the first time you said I love you was on Valentines day.
On the way back to my house, on a winding street lined with pine trees
You said it as a joke, and that's why I laughed

the second time you said I love you was when we were on your living room floor
vinyls upon vinyls with the wrapping all around us
this time I just ignored it and gave a tight smile

the third time you said I love you it was attached to a quick goodbye on the phone
I hung up before I could react and dropped to the floor right after

because how the **** could you ever love me and not know about the planet of skeletons I have in my closest?
you never seen my bad days or my worst days
you don't know the way I light up and the way I fade away
you don't know the voices in my head or the numbers on my arm dialing a phone home
hell, you don't even know what that means

you can't love me because you don't even know that I'm a planet
you can't love me because you don't know that I gave up being a human a long time ago
and you can never love me because you'll never understand why

Poetry is dead
when you are not here
to write it in my heart
when your voice is too far away
to read it.

Poetry is dead
when your allure is feeding
strangers' souls on the streets
while I am here alone,
my soul starving.

Poetry is dead in all my being
I feel its ghost leaving my brains
I feel the emptiness inside
and I fear the days
when it will come haunt me
and I won't find a way
to write it.

Sleeping at night it's impossible
cause I hear a question screaming in my chest

When poetry is dead
is there anything out there
left
*alive?

Time seemed to slip away from me, until
I saw you again, and everything came to a standstill.
Your eyes were the ones that have lit the flame,
since then nothing has ever been the same.
It warms me up like the Winter sun's rays,
and shall never die down, this fire that you have set ablaze.

Donald Trump,
you will never make
America great again.
the American Dream is dead.
and people like you,
are the ones who killed it.

sadness, madness:

to have your heart broken
and
to write about it
like it's the most beautiful thing
you've ever felt
and experienced
and
like it's the most beautiful thing
to feel

when it actually kills you.

— l. m

I should be touching the stars still
Because I have you, holding me in your arms
But I'm slowly falling again
About to hit the ocean's roaring surface
About to shatter, then sink
So hold me close, and never let go,
promise me
If I break, you'll piece me back together
Promise me
If I wander away, you'll follow me
You'll find me and bring me home
Promise me,
promise me,
promise me
You'll only ever tighten your grip
but don't smother me, no
Help me breathe
Just promise you won't give up on me
When I am falling, you'll catch me
promise me,
promise me,
oh, please, promise me
you won't leave me to fade away
alone.

I've realized over the year's
I've drank enough liquor
To match all of my tears.

When she'd kissed more bottles than she had boys
And spent more nights in strange bars than her own bed
She came to the conclusion that heart break hurt worse than a hangover