You said your words for the last time
I felt you dig into my chest
Couldn't think of a sadder mess
Felt your touch for the last time
didn't want you to leave me
Did you hear me when I told you I loved so
no,
you left and went right out the door
my lips were cold and I thought id died
felt your soul,
felt my heart go right through the floor

Liars lie and they'll make you cry
Lovers love, but they'll let you die
Do not trust the seeking eye
For it will seek and only pry

I didn't want to be sad l,
I didn't want to isolate myself
I wanted to feel something
To be loved
To laugh
But when I realized I did all this so I wasn't alone
Most of all,
Wasn't alone in my own head
I realized that I still was
No matter if I laughed
Felt loved
He been touched,
I realized I only distracted myself,
From me
From my problems
The ones in my head that I tried to cover up
I will always be in a battle with myself,
Until I love me,
And am comfortable with the thoughts I create.

The last one and you think you're done
They are no fun,
Just trouble in your lungs
And even when you don't want them to,
They end up creepin and crawlin
back to you.

"How come you're not talking, did I do something wrong, what is it now you're just quiet" you said , as I looked at you in the eye and told you I was fine. I suppose silence is louder than actual words. Truth is, I'm tired of talking, saying nonsense words that form a conversation that doesn't really matter. Talk just to talk. Truth is, I'm comfortable in our silence. I suppose you don't really love someone until you can lie down in silence and not feel uncomfortable to just not say a single ******* word. I want that, and not to be questioned why, and what's wrong when all I want to do is lie down, in silence.

Your kind words have no meaning
When you start to comfort me
in soft, felt like beatings and
just as I thought you'd leave me with a simple peck
you wrap your fingers around my skin
...I'd rather have a noose pull gently
around my neck
For what have I done,
Please tell me so
Perhaps you'd rather have one of your skimpy girls
Put on your favorite little show
Cue the music dear,
let's have a little hear
Cross your fingers you don't put her through fear

You're pathetic,
A pig,
Nothing at best
Dig baby, dig
Because you're going to turn out
Just like the rest

6 feet below.

I write poems, but I'm not sure if that makes me a poet and whether my writings are poems or just fragments with a similar ending pattern.