(2014)
#Death #Life #Seasons
Autumn sneaks in preceding dormancy Leaves take on new beauty with nothing left in them but a fa… Individually insignificant
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
I hope this is postmarked before my death certificate is dat… but you’ll know why if it is or if it isn’t If you get this in time
My heart was paper now folded six times over to make it harder to tear I only hope that
Passion doesn’t arise from 12 point Times New Roman but rather from ink on one page and another
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
So much time passes without feeling a single thing that I think I would give anything
I would write a sweet poem and title it with your name if I loved you at all
I wrote this while thinking of you so I guess you could say this poem is eight years in the making
I feel empty unceasingly until you come along and fill my heart to bursting
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
I write sharp words with a sharper knife on page after page of what might as well be the skin of my back
If I was once the tallest mountain your love was the wind that eroded me to nothing
I’ll keep searching for the meaning of life and I hope I find it as crumpled paper nearish a trash can