(2014)
#Life #Meaning #Nothing
I write sharp words with a sharper knife on page after page of what might as well be the skin of my back
Everyday I visit the only writers block I know to hone my words and wit and help them cut deeper into the skin
Loving you was never sweet like the taste of vanilla the way I thought it was supposed to be It was more like
Passion doesn’t arise from 12 point Times New Roman but rather from ink on one page and another
Forever seems like so long until I think of all the times spent waiting
I’ve always been at the very least a little caught up on everything about you This idea of you
I know that you were there in my dreams and in my arms Every dream we
I see words screaming for attention etched in the lines of your face Let me look closer
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 have whispered your name into the air so many times it has become the breeze that blows
You asked what I knew about you and I thought up a list of twenty things
There is a girl and I love her and I have loved her since the beg… Or so it seems to me as I only became conscious
If nature were so flattered by poems written with itself in mind as people are we would be moving mountains
I wrote this while thinking of you so I guess you could say this poem is eight years in the making
To put it simply each beat of your heart is a gift that I receive with the anticipation of a child at christmas