Why can't I write?
Why can I no longer bleed words?
Has life taken that much of a toll
That I can no longer write about my world?

Isn't pain or happiness supposed to inspire a beautiful or heart wrenching poem?
I am currently experiencing both feelings in my life, but the words still do not show.

I spend hours on a keyboard, and weeks on my phone; trying to type a simple tiny poem.

But the blank page stares at me, mocking my lack of inspiration. I feel a lack of dedication and not an ounce of motivation.

I've lost it...

I can no longer express my feelings through ink or through the keys on a computer. I thought this was my skill, but I guess writing is no longer in my future.

Each time you said my name,
gun shots went off in my mind;
warning sirens.
But I often mistook them for fireworks.

Your words were like bullets,
the kind Cupid would use if he had a shotgun.
They killed me.
But not as much as they made me feel alive.

There wasn't a lot
I could do for you
With the distance and everything else
I couldn't give you much
Only some small piece of myself
And the image of my body bare
For you to keep
I would like to think the fantasy I spun
Helped you in some way
I know it probably didn't
And it was foolish nonetheless to play a game of falsity
The reality of us sunk in too deeply
Too quickly
And all at once
Our future,
There was none
I forget that in reference
I didn't have the time to care
So I stopped all at once
I'm sorry for that
I hope I broke your heart enough
For you to be able to write a song about it
Maybe melody and lyrics
With some semblance of us in them
I hope wherever you are
You are getting closer to happy
I hope you still think of me.
I know you do.

In August you told me you would be home in a few weeks
I had hoped it would be sooner than that
It's a lot later now and I am still waiting
The chill of mid December has arrived
January is approaching quickly
You are completely out of sight
But not out of mind
It has been close to six months
And your ghost still talks me to sleep every night
It's hard for me to believe that I ever believed you
But I did
You said you were coming back for me
It's almost the new year
And I wonder how it is that I am still thinking about you
I am still thinking about you
Wondering if you ever think of me too
I am still holding on to your promise like it wasn't built of string
It broke the second you gave it to me
But I held on like my loyal hands could fix it
I know I should let go now
Maybe that will be my new years resolution
To forget you
For real this time
Maybe my new years resolution
Will have less to do with hoping
And more to do with changing
Cleaning out the contents in my box of future
Most things in it have reached their expiration date
Maybe my new years resolution
Will be to wipe your name from my vocabulary
To make it into a word I am unfamiliar with
Maybe my new years resolution will be
To stop checking your page to see if you are happy
I want to be the one who is happy
I know you still follow me
The past months have been spent showcasing my life
In hopes that you'll see it
And wish you were a part of it
Maybe my new years resolution should be
To stop wishing you were a part of it
Placing dreams on stars that have already burnt out
I am devoting myself to that task
And training myself to not love you anymore
But it's only Christmas eve.
So I've still got some time.

i have been searching for a home, for a memory, for a friend, for a certain love in people since day one. i have found myself like putty in the palms of people who only wanted to mold me and shape me to be what they wanted me to be. i have mistaken lust for true love and some form of care. i have mistaken the wind for a hug more times than i can count. the thing that scares the living **** out of me is that i don't know when i will stop, when i will change, when i will forget, or
if i even can. what scares me even more is that i am afraid i will never be able to forget. you see, i have a hole inside of my heart, inside of my soul, a hole that ***** away at my brain minute by minute. i have a hole that i fear will never ever be filled for as long as i walk this earth, and let me tell you, the hole is a lot like a wound. sometimes it will go numb and i will forget for a small amount of time, but **** if i don't always end up remembering. the hole burns. it aches. and some days it's enough to make me want to die, right then and there. but i keep going with the hope that one day i will find that missing piece. i will find that solace. far too many people have tried and still want to fill that hole; they want the crown, they want to know they've fixed the broken record, the broken mirror. what they don't understand is that they are mud, not filament. they infect my wound. they make it larger. they make it hurt more. i swear to god i've tried everything to fill this hole, and when i say everything, i mean EVERYTHING. I have this darkness seeping out of it, seeping out of my being, and the light can't quite keep away this darkness for good. i can never quite **** my demons to hell, though i am their own god and should have full control over them. they live in the shadows of this hole. they play with those who dare to try to fill it, including me. my only hope left is to find that missing piece. to find that lost cause and that entrapped little girl. i think she's under the sun somewhere, but the problem is i'm not sure if these demons can take that too well. i hope that someday we find the acceptance, i hope that someday we can find the filament, because i fear that if we don't find it soon, the demons will make this hole larger and larger to where it isn't just a hole anymore, to where it becomes my entire being, my existence. it's soon to be that i am nothing but the open wound, where i am left with nothing but becoming like those i fear, or worse: those i love. becoming dead, metaphorically and soon after, literally.