You remind me of what it's like to fall in love
The rush
And the eventual disappointment
It's been so long for me that I don't even feel human anymore
Everyone I know is a million miles away
And I don't even mind

I don't know
Maybe this is just more proof
That I'm better off alone
Because there's nothing quite like
The numbness crashing in
It's not something I can share with someone
I wouldn't if I could

I'm listening to old love songs
And they just make me realize
How I'm never romantically nostalgic anymore
I don't care about my old crushes
They've all turned to dust on me
The only boy I've ever loved might as well be dead
And I've resigned myself to the fact that he's the only love I'll ever have
He's the only one I still cry for
He's the one I'd die for
If it meant I could see him in heaven

I don't know
Maybe I'm over young love
Maybe I'm just preaching and goth
Not old for my time
But I feel no connection
To any of these people

I flirt with my ex girlfriend because I'm bored
She doesn't deserve it
She's the prettiest girl I've ever seen
And I was so in love with her before
But now that's gone too and I'm stuck rambling all because my friend is in love and talked to me about it on pinterest
I don't know
I never thought I would be so emotionally unavailable
That even romance wasn't my thing anymore

I used to write poems
Who knew how to rhyme
Easy words hung out together
Matching pace, keeping time

But now I like my proses
That don’t have to try so hard
I can write each phrase
Quick as it catches ablaze
No rhythm in it’s ways
Just minding its own business
As it swirls across my page

But I guess it’s not the words themselves
That put in the effort
That craft phrases so pristine
You’d think they’d been conceived by Robert Redford
(Oof)

It’s my latent mind
That no longer lives in the land of
Rhyme
Where AABB and ABA
Just aren’t my preoccupation
They don’t rise me to another station
Of talent and prowess
Of being the very best

I just want to write out how I feel
And not worry how it sounds
That is until I go back
And see how emotions lack
In words that don’t capture me
Don’t rapture me
With their romanceless apathy

I forgot that poetry is poetry because it is an art
That a lion is more a lion for his mane than for his heart.
Would a balding lion still best the other beasts?
Perhaps
But if so,
Wouldn’t you know
That a bald lion is a she
The one who hunts and bears new beasts
The one who bleeds and shares her meat
The one who mangles cub thieves
And I’m sure the one who untangles
Knots in the mane of the he

I digress from this feminist lioness
But I like this point of view
That sometimes beauty is better
And sometimes better is use
But I also already knew that
And if you’re still reading, so did you

My point is that though I am
Smarter now
Older
More mature
With thoughts that vibrate higher
And far less victim overtures
My poetry has suffered
And I enjoy it less
And now to create
Swooning phrases capped in rhythm
I must confess
That I labor

In my old way of feeling I found it easier to create
But in my new way of thinking

Ah
There it is.
In my new way of being I think
I choose when to be swayed by an emotion
Rarely being overtaken
But also rarely feeling forsaken
Accepting calmly an occasion where my intentions are mistaken
No matter,
I remain unshaken

There we go
I’ve got it back
A little rhyme
Picking up the slack
And in the evening I’ll have a snack
Some carbs
Some sugar
And the extra poundage won’t give me anxiety attacks
Cellulite on my thigh
Doesn’t make me want to cry
I’m not so lonely
I am content
I am ambitious
I pay my rent
I don’t overeat
Or undereat
I just want to feel sated
I’m not frustrated
I don’t feel hated
And my gratefulness is never belated
I’m happy
I am not manic
An unanswered text won’t send me into a panic
I moisturize
I don’t have bags under my eyes
I don’t compromise
I won’t lie
And when I care I really try
I love my home
And love my skin
I love my bumpy shins
I don’t feel stressed about my age
Or the passing of time
So I suppose I won’t fret
That my words won’t always rhyme

Like a lonely rose
froze to stone,
heart hardened to marble
below a coat of snow;
barbed bones grow
labored and slow
but red petals
still radiate, aglow-
posed not quite open,
although not quite closed.

Warmer wind blows,
rain drops
clapping, lachrymose;
spring-lit spirit sprints
towards summer solstice, awoke;
green leaves,
emerald embers stoked,
emitting dandelion smoke.

Trophy bouquet meadows
of romanceless nosegay
and posy mosaic laying apropos;
seeds evoked and thrown
from my own torso.

Emotions
forwards flown
to almost certain vertigo
then swiftly sunk in undertow
from only breeze's uneven strokes;

No thing hallowed,
corpse bloated, decomposed;
worms hunger and burrow,
tomorrow sowing unknown woes-
soul harrowed as if I chose.

[Untitled (1st draft)]

I am the transient man,
intangible phantom
banished to abandoned lands;
vast expanse,
canyons spanned–
chancing stance on
steepest slants and
shifting sands
as if the whole planets ******.

What began as arms working in tandem
became appendages ending in frantic answers,
this romanceless dance a tantrum
just to get a handle,
my damaged hands scramble.

Trying to meet the demands for a lantern
with only this wind stricken candle's
wick flickering, unample.

But no,
leave plants to wither
in sunlit strands absence,
animals rabid with famine–
I plan to build the grandest mansion
carve the
fireplace's mantle,
walls like anvils
strong enough to withstand
any cannonball;
wrought iron fence and brambles
not even god could trample.