The past has become scars and pains
Trapped in its bars and chains
Let's look towards the stars and move forward with what remains

I cough words
onto a page,
and hold it up to the world.
They call it art, they call it poetry.

escape reality,
looking for light,
but always ending up in the darkness

I wish I had some meaning

In this meaningless world.

It's been a while, hasn't it?

I sometimes wonder
If you remember me at all,
Beneath your stressful days
And endless nights.

Do you remember me?

I have hidden here,
Waiting
Just for you.

Because I am you.

You are not the girl I used to know,
Not the one you used to be.
But that's okay,
I have changed too.

Have we both grown by leaps and bounds?

I wish you all the best,
But please
I beg of you.

Do not forsake me.

Invariably,
You prefer to come
To me in the dark.
"You're more my temperature then,"
You once said.
I'm not much of a thermometer,
But I am the eurythmy
To each syllable you give
In such settled shadow.
A play of murmurs and fingertips,
You once named this.
Always I see a wreath in your hair,
In colors of Persia,
Textures of night,
And the soft blended lines
Of you I know
Infallibly.

there are roses growing
from my hands
My doubt the seeds
Begging them to grow

There are roses climbing
up my arms
digging in my skin
but i am numb
to their thorns and beauty

There are roses growing
in my lungs
bloodied petals
filling my throat
and falling from my lips

Tears are sliding
down my cheeks
I've had enough
I am to weak

Velvet words on red lips--
They fell with the weight
Of dormant hopes
And whispered goodbyes,
A flickering lightbulb
Going off in her eyes--
The jaunty smile of her skirt
Seemed to deflate,
Hanging limply just below
Her bruised knees--
She said so many things.
Now was the time
To say the ones
she missed.