(2014)
There seems to be a drought in my… but who knows if it is the cause or the result of the war raging within me
I wrote this while thinking of you so I guess you could say this poem is eight years in the making
Under the weight of life I forget how to breathe and I feel suffocated I hesitantly make peace with the world
I see poems that need to be written scrawled in the shape of your smile and the lines of your face
Hope in another form but no fewer letters and I’ve been hoping for these past eight years so I’ll just keep on
I’ve always been at the very least a little caught up on everything about you This idea of you
I spend my nights wishing on every star in the sky that you are alive and well
All that I know how to do is write about death without dying and write about life
I thought I could drink you away but I had to stop being so drunk on you first
It must be a wednesday or a friday or any day at all for I am painfully aware of the wo… that consumes me
I’ve kept my eyes closed most of these past eighteen years because I find it just as dark
I see words screaming for attention etched in the lines of your face Let me look closer
So much time passes without feeling a single thing that I think I would give anything
I get my silence in five minute doses before the plane overhead brings me back to earth
Everyday I visit the only writers block I know to hone my words and wit and help them cut deeper into the skin
