(2014)
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 wrote this while thinking of you so I guess you could say this poem is eight years in the making
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
Under the weight of life I forget how to breathe and I feel suffocated I hesitantly make peace with the world
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 have whispered your name into the air so many times it has become the breeze that blows
I know that you were there in my dreams and in my arms Every dream we
Passion doesn’t arise from 12 point Times New Roman but rather from ink on one page and another
All that I know how to do is write about death without dying and write about life
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
You were the wind beneath my wings but I was Icarus so all I did
I would write a sweet poem and title it with your name if I loved you at all
I feel empty unceasingly until you come along and fill my heart to bursting
So much time passes without feeling a single thing that I think I would give anything
I spend my nights wishing on every star in the sky that you are alive and well
