i can feel your soul next to mine.
your breath is still heavy from choking down cigarettes
thickened by a bottle of wine, saliva drips from your lips
onto my own.

coercing every cell in my body to follow your command

It was a warm summer day in a small quiet town: a gentle breeze dyed green with the scent of fresh cut grass sends shivers through the trees as they whistle through their leaves, a melancholy of sounds so soothing, it keeps you from moving.
Lying in the grass without a care--time is not a factor, we have plenty to spare--look at the dancing sunbeams before your very eyes preaching please be happy to be alive;
listen to the bees buzzing and the crickets chirping--a world of life around you singing happy to be alive.
Feel the firmness of the earth beneath you, the magnetic resonance relays to remind you that everything here, everything we know, everything we do should make us
happy to be alive.

I found solace in the darkness of my heart
where memories of lost loves live.
It aches all the time, but it reminds I'm alive.
Maybe it's the pain on which I thrive--

A constant reminder, something's amiss,
what could I have done so wrong
that you feel it's okay to leave me like ****
in a toilet, never to flush--festering.

Sometimes that's the part that hurts the most...
it felt like you really liked me.

Even still, I left feeling sorry,
sorry for feeling like I hurt you,
sorry for myself,
sorry for ever believing in hope or love,
or that you could heal me or that I could heal you,
it was misguided romantic *******--

Yet, I loved every minute of it.

I may be my own worst enemy
and the only thing I may ever see in the mirror
is myself, blanketed by thoughts of what used to be
but I'll never give up on you or me.

I sit here writing poetry for someone who will never see it,
yet I still hope, even if it's only a faint possibility...
I want it to be seen, and I need it to burn as deeply as I feel.

Our lost loves are laced with traces of what used to be.
smells, places, sounds, feelings,
their touch–

all memories tainted and poisoned by adolescent fantasies
wishing for the comfort of a disillusioned past,
forcing the remnants of our love to rescind into the darkest depths of our heart.

good intentions are never really enough,
are they? people want action!
for there is no greater language in communicating ones true desires.
how loud must the action be to cloud the clumsiness of our words?
how long have i been dwelling on the memory of you?
will time heal this wound too?

everyday without you is torture, knowing our lives may never be together. but,
i’m not afraid that you weren’t the one for me,
I never was--
i was afraid you’d forget me and i'd still remember you.

I just want to be free from the Pieces of You
i left stuck in my heart.

i remember when i died in your arms
i never wanted to leave
but you left me to rot