The pen must be
 mightier than the sword
 For there is nothing that
 will spill your guts faster
 than a bit of ink that says


I know that you were there in my dreams and in my arms Every dream we

I write sharp words with a sharper knife on page after page of what might as well be the skin of my back

The hands of this watch haven’t moved since the last time you did and I’m not sure if I’m ready to hear the ticking

Just when I get back on my feet you pass on by and I lose my footing Again

Forever seems like so long until I think of all the times spent waiting

I would write a sweet poem and title it with your name if I loved you at all

I was like a rain cloud over a small garden and dammit if you weren’t that garden so full of flowers that I fell in love

Everyday I visit the only writers block I know to hone my words and wit and help them cut deeper into the skin

I wish you had told me that on the good days kissing you would make me think that I knew what happiness was and on the bad days