Not even the wetness of your eyes can bring me back to this life; if that's what you call it. No longer a tale of you and I.

some people think that the best type of poetry is written at 3am while the house is silent.
others argue that it's written by a drunk and broken heart.
for me, though, the best type of poetry are the things i spew at any given time.
when i'm sitting in the school hallway talking to you, but to everyone else it seems like i'm talking to myself.
when i raise my hand to ask a question in class, and my ideas pour out of me with the intensity of water flowing through a newly broken dam.
the best type of poetry comes when you least expect it.
remember to keep your eyes open.

my vision is black
no twinkling stars
to brighten my night
you never realize
how cold space is
until you're engulfed
in its darkness

lips numb and blue
cold sweat *******
the heat from my bones
muscles contracting
violent spasming
jaw chattering, clicking
noises echoing
in the emptiness

i have been reduced
to a pile of rubble
called 'bones'
if i was human
then where is
my soul?