im sorry i shake,

i don't make sense,

constantly saying things,

that my soul can't say.

hoping time can change my way.

im sinking slow,

i confide in a mattress,

with a drink and my soul.

i feel far from your heart,

can't commit to be heartless.

every sun is your sun,

every star was once ours,

now neither appear,

i'll never know who you are.

she chose to chase her demons,

while i stayed to fight mine.

.
”If you are to love,
love freely and unburdened
by the tombstones
of past miscalculated regrets.”

But the heart
inadvertently beats
to the mismatched rhythms
of a hundred
caged doves’ wings.

Well,
after you write enough
and try to publish for long enough
you just notice it
There is no such thing as
good
or
bad
poetry.
There's just poetry to which people
can relate
and poetry to which
people can't relate.
And that makes all the difference
in the world.