We ask ourselves;
‘Why?’
That ‘life was made to die’,

But if we continue to ponder,
We turn grim,
And somber.

For this question is up to us.
A creation of an answer,
One can trust.

As one can love,
And finally adjust.

i am a hopeless romantic
with suicidal antics
that cant seem to love herself

she cant seem to nudge herself
out of depressive episodes
but she has expressive goals
to fall in love

to call on love
for several favors
and she has several wagers
that "this one will be 'the one'"
that what ever is done
can be undone
and that she will be okay
because one day love will fix it all

she is a pathetic romantic
with an optimistic aesthetic
and a manic
personality

I don't miss people
I miss the parts of me I gave them

Her smile sits
on the curb of a road
between Summer
and Fall.

It feels like
Finally

They pushed
Me

Once
Too often

I look back at my poetry
The ones about sunshine
Strawberrys
And fresh breezes
To remind myself
That at some point
I was truly happy

i would give you
all the stars,
all the planets,
just to see that smile
again.

and maybe, and probably
i cannot fix it
so will look after it
admire it daily
unless it rains
james