“You’re loved”
I know I am, but how do human
emotions compare to my actual worth
and value as a person?
I am so tired.

Does any of this matter?
Has it ever mattered?

You have now left me

As I sit here fighting away more tears
I wonder
Do you remember all the things I wrote about you?
Do you remember the poem called You that I wrote?

You probably don't

Even though you left me today it feels like it was forever ago
For you seem so far away from me

Did you think about the fact that you come over early every thursday so you can get to youth?
Wether I'm coming or not?

You probably didn't

Now every time you come over
I will retreat
I will retreat to my bedroom
To the bathroom
Or out the door
So I can find somewhere quite to cry

Because your smile gave me life
Your gaze gave me butterflies

You are utterly beautiful in my eyes
But you don't see yourself that way

So you break
And then you leave me
Because 'you can't handle a relationship'
I understand
But my heart still shattered when I read those words

Tears instantly swelled my eyes and started to pour
Just like rain on a lonely night

Now tonight as I go lay in my bed
I will stare out my window
At the wall
Or the roof

Remembering your smile
Remembering your laugh
Remembering how safe I felt next to you
Pressed into you
And just near you

I will lay there as tears streak my cheeks
As I remember the way my heart would beat just at the sight of you
As I remember the way my heart would break when I saw the smile falter from your face

For I didn't want you to feel broken like me
Because you deserve to be happy

You are beautiful to me
And you always will be

Now as I sit here my thoughts will not leave you

If anyone asks for me to be theirs I will probably say no
And I probably will for many years

But if I say yes I will not truly love them
For I will forever remember when you were my puppy
And I was your kitten

Anything can
look like a poem
and sound philosophical
simply by moving
the words on
different lines.

Am I doing it right?
Is this
really
talent?
Art?
Effort?

I think I am trying.
Really, I am
I go back and change the order
and I break lines
where it sounds right
But it does not take me long.
Not at all.

I try to be
intentional
and call it natural rhythm.
Instinct and style taking over
I alternate between
agonizing every detail
like When to Capitalize
and publishing free form poems without looking over them twice.

How is writing supposed to feel?
Should I labor?
or should it flow?
Or do I get to decide?

I think the things I talk of
mean something
at least.

But am I just
pretentious?

fooling myself into thinking that
using common poetry formats
somehow makes my work worthwhile?

I could never tell you
exactly what's going on inside my head,
so I'll write instead.
Drown my thoughts in paper & lead.
Keep my hands alive,
and my expression dead.

Life, to me, appears meaningless
Poem
After
Poem
And I am still stuck
In the same place I was
In the same person I was
Life, to me, appears meaningless
But I cannot stop wondering,
If it will get better

em pleh