your role is to be gorgeous
                                    desirable
                                         remote and unattainable
mine is to yearn and moan
                                            then lie down and die
                                                      as I’m taunted, forsaken and abandoned
                                                                             by my illusions of you

If we could hold the sun
within the palms of our hands,
would we at last feel warm?
Would the ice that formed
within my aorta melt?
Or maybe
it would all evaporate
and we would die,
feeling warm for once in our lives.

At the end of the day, you're the only one sleeping.

My eyes watery, your eyes closed;

My brain racing and yours doesn't know.

If poems were ***
then,I wouldn't be a ******
i would caress the letters
fix a foreplay with title
i would literally **** the words
to give birth to soulful sentences
if poems were ***
I wouldn't be ******,still.

I always say it won't matter in the end,

But the end isn't ******* now.

And if you're not in my now,

then I don't know if I'll be able to make it to the end. . .

"my parents warned me about drugs on the street, but never the ones with green eyes and a heartbeat."