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Him Feb 2021
Dear Diary, perhaps you might tell me: "What Do You See?"

Cause the mirrors offer a reflection, that just cannot be: An eighteen year old boy, who's both happy and healthy.

Dear Diary, Dear... Who? Perhaps you might credit the broken creature that penned you. The one that inflicted these tears and tears; these crude reflections... recreations of its own scars and pains.

Dear Diary, Dear... Who? This question is one, that you wonder too. Perhaps ironic, as the answer is known only by you; just call me, Dear Who.
Who am I?
Him Feb 2021
I managed to find the beauty, buried beneath your pain; your little bit of sunshine, life had buried; though its possession you retained.
It was a good find, now we can both search for mine.
Him Feb 2021
Are you thinking of me, cause I sure am of you? Tomorrow the lockdown will be beginning, and heaven knows it's cruel.

I have already waited for a month, so what's two more weeks to go? However, there's one truth that every, lonely lover knows:

These clocks tick a little slower, and the nights are twice as cold; when you're waiting for the warmth of a lover, whom you wish that you could hold.

O, the nights are twice as cold, and the winds they sure do bite; when I am staring up at the Moon, oh but can't see your light.

All on my own - Now that's quite the fright. I am staring at my phone, waiting for a hello or a goodnight.
All on my own - Now that's quite the fright.

O, the nights are twice as cold, and the Gin loses its kick. I am staring at the ******* from across the room, now I'm falling to the floor; the gloom begins to set in, as I lay on boards; I can't hear the clock's taunting tocks nor ticks... anymore.

So,

Are you thinking of me, cause I sure am of you? Here's another poem that I have written, yet another that I won't show you.

Cause the lockdown may be cruel, but at least I could survive.

IF I ever make you cry. IF I ever be a fool. Then Bae, there will be no surviving for me, knowing that I murdered you.

Now, I will just stay up tonight, and keep thinking of you. Now, I know that's it's weak, but it's all that I can do.
Can tears be a note? Or would they be a little, silly joke
Him Feb 2021
Seconds, minutes, hours, days.
All of these times come, and then go away.
For some men live but a second, few a hundred years; but rest assured all return to the dust, then fade. So spends your time wisely, if just a hasty second or patience year.
Him Feb 2021
I compose these sentences anew, sometimes in timely thought, sometimes in utter urges; yet always they be too few; to express but a mere three words: "I love you."
There is no other feeling that's quite as dear, as to hear one follow up on these three words with your name. In spite of our poetic aims, those three words the human heart claims.
Him Feb 2021
Tell me all of the words that we forgot. Baby, love and kiss me like you can't stop
Him Feb 2021
You don't even love me, o you don't even care. When we are together, I can't tell if you're even there; I reach out for your hand, but you pull away.

You don't even love me, o you don't even care. My eyes begin to water then I hear you say. "Ty, be a man and put away those tears. Or are you still a boy, even after all of these years?"

No amount of wisdom could have made me prepared... to wake up in the morning and realise that you weren't here. You said that we'll be together forever, so did forever end yesterday? Does the end of forever, begin an eternity of pain?

You don't even love me, o you don't even care. Yet I'm still wishing that you were here; you're the cause and cure of my heartache.
Maybe if you were here, I'd be able to smile all the same.
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