Does a poem have to be thought out
does it take years to edit and perfect

Or can it be,
can it just remain,
a few simple, raw lines

Been looking in my well as of late
Saw my reflection on the watery face
I don't have much to say
There was plenty to hear
But I didn't want to listen
I was tired of its watery song
It's been quiet as of late
Leaving me with my wintry soul
It weaves and blows
Its direction unknown
Always returning with a story
Been looking in my well
Saw my watery face
Never dry as silence unfolds

no one taught me how to accept help
so please, take it easy on me
we both know i need it

you mean the world to me
cliché it may seem to be
but don't worry this isn't that same old poetry

maybe one day you wake up and realize this isn't the life you want to be living. like life is stopping all the things from happening.

maybe one day you wake up and think you aren't worthy. that no matter what you do you always end up weary.

maybe one day you feel like giving up, like the pain, the problems ain't gonna stop. maybe one day you feel like you're not yourself, like an old book left on a shelf.

maybe one day you wake up and you feel like you don't matter, that every breath you take your broken pieces are even more broken—they're shattered.

maybe one day all the pain you buried inside suddenly come to you like waves. maybe one day, just one day, you'll feel lost. don't worry, you mean the world to me.
—g.l

lips like poison,
eyes as green as envy,
one word and you have me
falling to your knees.
one kiss and i have blood dripping
from my own lips.
you chase me,
until i’m intoxicated by lust.
your body finally intertwines with mine.
yet i wake up feeling loved,
but to no one around.