She left me
I never thought she would
I don't know what I did
and she wouldn't wait to tell
I went out that night
I never do
well now it's never did
it became routine
arrive at 9
drunk by 10
home by 1
escorting my visitor out by 9
you know most times
I never learned their names
I never wanted to
too personal

personally I think I'm fine
I don't think about her as often
and if I do I drink
until the thoughts subside
the pain drains away
only to refill itself
every morning I'm woken up
by the same pain I'd avoided
the night before
but over time it lessened
my mind learned it's lesson
it forgot how to love
I stabbed myself the other day
and was surprised to see I bled
the pain didn't register
as I lay another woman that isn't her to bed

It's crazy ya know
how everything I own
can just be wrapped up in boxes
trophies and awards
pictures and accomplishments
all tucked neatly away
my favorite pens and pencils
stuffed into burlap sacks

it's almost like it wasn't real
the first 18 years of my life
like it was all a game
that no matter what I did
I'd end up here
the only difference being
how many trophies
were neatly tucked away

like my whole life has been a checklist
like I was nothing extraordinary
there is nothing more dehumanizing
than being able to put everything you love in a box
it's just weird that it's over
it was always going to end
but I never thought it would be OVER
that's all

bees can't fly
yet they still do
because they don't know
that they can't
of course this holds no relevance to me
I'm not a bee you see
i'm not saying humans can fly
i'm well aware we've tried
it just makes me wonder
about the things we never try
how the greatest musicians
turned into accountants
about what we do don't do
solely so we don't fail

if a bee were to understand
that he couldn't physically fly
he'd just buzz away
I want that

A bandage can only do so much
it's the body that heals
don't cover up your problems
solve them

Coffee stained sweaters
swollen bit lips
mistakes that stayed forever
wounds that never healed
apologies told
relationships mended
now that I have you
I'm reminded by how it ended

I search for tones in your speech
quivers in your voice
hints in your texts
movements in your body
I can't forget how we failed
how we might make it this time
and why either is
just as likely as the other

Do I love you?
Or am I just used to you?

There once was a poet
who was very much alive
he'd write everyday
sometimes late into the night
his poetry was his craft
a never ending ascent into madness
a read of his work
was a trip into darkness

He was fascinated by death
by how simple it was
he imagined the light being as bright
as the white of a dove
he loved rhyming tricks
how they'd guide a reader
along a waterfall of words
the more the steeper

but he wasn't famous
he wasn't beloved
this tore him apart
and led him to what?
no i didn't hear that
a modern day Van Gogh
only 25
too young for him to go

And if a picture was worth
a thousand words
then my actions
should speak a thousand verbs

And if actions speak
louder than words
then let my speech
rise loud like a thousand birds

And if birds prove
it's possible to fly
then I can tell you
how I love you and why

And if a broken clock
is right twice a day
then maybe there's a chance
I can find the words to make you stay