(2014)
#Hate #Love #Poetry
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
I see poems that need to be written scrawled in the shape of your smile and the lines of your face
To put it simply each beat of your heart is a gift that I receive with the anticipation of a child at christmas
I thought I could drink you away but I had to stop being so drunk on you first
My heart was paper now folded six times over to make it harder to tear I only hope that
Everyday brings a new death in three words give or take Some days I drown
You were the wind beneath my wings but I was Icarus so all I did
I say hello and you say nothing You may hear me you may even think of a response
I’ll keep searching for the meaning of life and I hope I find it as crumpled paper nearish a trash can
Passion doesn’t arise from 12 point Times New Roman but rather from ink on one page and another
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
There is poetry in nature better left to be spoken wordlessly by the breeze
I’ve always been at the very least a little caught up on everything about you This idea of you
All that I know how to do is write about death without dying and write about life
I’ve kept my eyes closed most of these past eighteen years because I find it just as dark