Im sorry my love
This is Goodbye
This is the End
The last Time
My words have filled your Ears
For the last Time
My dear, never again will i say your Name
Think of me Sparingly
And when you do let it be
With a grin
Never with fear
This was wonderful
But the dream must end Here

Chaos
Neverending
Eternity
Unrelenting.
Of my time spent still and alone,
Never have I thought that more was to be found.
Of the outer turmoil, none were aware,
The inner, my feelings, they surround.
In the chaos of my conscience,
Amidst the clamor that is my soul,
I find peace in an angel,
A dream of light, which makes me whole.
Though my reasons may be malformed,
My morality guided, notions are pure,
My heart long since decided,
I follow that which cannot be sure.
In my neverending search,
I dream of that beyond my sight,
Of something more and greater,
That which shall release me, unto the light.
I know now what is lost and gone,
Of what I had the chance to be.
An eternity of agony, despair, gloom, etc.
Now rests in plain sight before me.
But never shall I submit, my fate is unrelenting,
I’m bound for that which is greater.
Those who hold me back, contain me with harsh words,
They know not, of my friends they are the traitors.

Limitless is the potential, boundless are my skies,
If only sought and found, through all the endless lies.
I look and see naught, but those two chaotic eyes,
Beauty bound and held still, rapturous, unheeding of my cries.
Destroyers of worlds, breakers of all but despair, yet hope
They bring unto me, like the last salvation, a saving rope.
It is mine to climb into that beyond, into something better, greater,
To make myself into something, or more, to be a creator.

465

I heard a Fly buzz—when I died—
The Stillness in the Room
Was like the Stillness in the Air—
Between the Heaves of Storm—

The Eyes around—had wrung them dry—
And Breaths were gathering firm
For that last Onset—when the King
Be witnessed—in the Room—

I willed my Keepsakes—Signed away
What portion of me be
Assignable—and then it was
There interposed a Fly—

With Blue—uncertain stumbling Buzz—
Between the light—and me—
And then the Windows failed—and then
I could not see to see—

My heart aches with an envy so real.
My head can’t rationalize all the things that I feel.
My body yearns to be held so close.
My heart betrays me with the emotions I show.

My eyes are jealous when I see him with her.
My heart pounds with all the feelings that stir.
My ears hear all the tears that I cry.
My mind knows I am upset, but it doesn’t know why.

My heart rules everything that I do.
My skin tingles every time I see you.
My mind and my heart are forever at war.
My life is a battle with no one keeping score.

My soul forever bares the weight of the two.
My heart and my mind can’t decide what to do.
My heart will keep beating confused and surreal.
My mind will keep trying to understand the things it can’t feel.

When I was younger,
a moment of existential
panic would have my
buttons coming undone
for boys who didn't care why
but sure loved how.

I'm more beautiful now,
less given to panic, and I
undress for you like this:
one story at a time –  a
metaphoric bump and grind.
I shimmy out of all my lies.

I have this hot pink heart with lace taped to the edges,
and these deep, deep truths that I suspect might be lies;
I have this system for secrets and, though softly imperfect,
I do have a pair of magnificent thighs.
I have this floodplain soul that's a place for the thirsty
and *****, but sometimes it's still not enough.
I cradle my faults like things that need saving, and
sometimes I burn with shame just like with love.
I have this leaf in my hair that I picked up while walking;
it was pretty, that early, still covered in frost.
It's not much, what I have, but it's more than I came with.
I'm counting my blessings since you counted your loss.

To your can't, I say won't,
and that's fine, love. That's fine.
To your try, I say don't,
and that's fine, love. That's fine.
To each failed attempt,
I say wasted ambition.
To your look of confusion,
I say you wouldn't listen.
To your heartfelt regret,
I say no need, it's fine.
I felt loved for a while
and that's mine, love. That's mine.

In the minutes before sleep last night,
through stellar static, astral snow,
a poem, half dreamt, was born
and died; I drifted off and let it go.

Just one line survived the night;
that line will have to be enough.
I wrote it down before it faded:
sometimes we were good at love.