I don’t quite know what to say, to be honest
‘cause I know that words won’t help you,
at least not the ones I can provide;
                 So I remain speechless,
as my fingers tap words eagerly on my keyboard.

It kills me that I can’t help you, really,
‘cause I know what you’re going through;
yet hugging you, as you deserve, wouldn’t help;
                   So I sit here, motionless
though my arms itch to comfort you, I wont.

I'm sorry it has to be like this, I am -
'cause I know you don't really understand;
your kisses belong to my cheeks, not my lips;
                      That's why I keep my distance
( I won't increase your pain; because I care)

That said, I can't finish this without saying
clichés like: “I miss you,” and “I'm sorry.”

I can't write this and say what I want to,
without ruining
        the structure
               or a rhyme-scheme that's non-existent
      
         'Cause that's what I do.
         I break things without intent;
         But I never meant to break your heart.

(I hope, that some day, you'll be able to forgive me, though;
and when you restore the fractures of your broken heart,
I hope you see clearly
        that I was never your heartache worthy.)

read this book they said-
read this book it's so wonderful-
read this book it will change your life-

That book I did read...

While I read the book late one dreary night
It had taken a hold of me with a serious bite
It held my hand in it's grip
Yet the pages I read did not rip
This book began to chew up toward my elbow
Sharp and quick like the deadly crossbow
Bending my arm causing ****** harm
I tried to toss it aside
Only thing was it ate faster up my pride
I could only think to myself...
They lied
Can it be this book that bites the hand that reads it will cause me to die?