The first time
you said you loved
me, it was as if
I had been pulled aboard
a life raft after being
lost at sea. But
I see now that this
raft is littered with
holes and
we are sinking, but
you are convinced
that your love is a
teacup to scoop out
the water pooling around
my ankles and you will save
us, but the teacup has a crack
down one side and
do you see where I
am going with this?
A tablespoon of water
will never put out
a forest fire; I am burning
through acres.

When I killed myself to be someone who was wanted by everyone, I never imagined that I would end up right here

Next to you, asleep, at 1 o clock in the morning,
My arm around your back, feeling every crease that your body tries so desperately to hide away from the surface,
You, fast asleep, how beautiful your eyelids look when they’re closing the world off for you while you come to grips with living this way,
And yeah, It’s a beautiful feeling

I never knew I could love like this

Like you, you’re such a beautiful feeling,
Every word that comes out from your lips and your tongue, it all flows so naturally,
I was never convinced that naturally love should feel like this,
I taught myself to love hard and fast and never slow down, like everyone else that came before you,
But don’t get me wrong, your sunlight eyes and flower tipped nose look very nice in my garden, and I think I’ll keep you around for some seasons,
Which is to say, I hope this feeling never dies

When I told you that I wrote poetry, I hesitated to do so because I knew that no poem I could write could possibly do anything about you justice,
I mean just look at you,
Everything about you is a poem written from all of my favorite poets

I never knew I could love like this

My heart, a puzzle, missing all of the pieces,
I’m starting to think that maybe none of them were missing, they just needed someone with patience, someone who wants to look at the bigger picture,
I found you,
Just like a missing puzzle piece,
I’m not saying I need you to fix me,
You’re just doing a really wonderful job at showing me how beautiful my clouds look while they’re next to the blue pieces

Your kisses, small and sweat like Reese’s Pieces, this wouldn’t be a love poem if some of things I said weren’t cheesy,
I guess to top it all off I could say that living and loving with you is easy peazy, your flavor makes my heart clean and washes away the bitter, no lemon squeazy

I never knew I could love like this

Bad puns and “that was a good one”’s aside

We got a good thing going

Let’s keep it that way, dream girl

stuck in a paradox
a paradox of lies
as the rivers stream
through the shallow creek
trying not to think
while dwelling on my thoughts
for a second
purposely anxious
sadness stands by my side
the shadows remain
dim and hallow
it is pain that I have to swallow

And I told him, Ivan, don’t shout.
And he did, and he couldn’t hear me;
he was too busy, leaning over the edge,
teetering on the point of immortality—
on the edge, on the edge, on the edge.
He’s still there.

Then, is it okay to cry enough?
Isn’t it okay to keep helping him?
Or am I too stupid to believe—
“Ivan, please stay. Please don’t go”—
that he would stay, even after I’m gone?

Because, I still cried, even when I left him first.
Because I didn’t want to stay to see him leave me,
and is love okay this way?
Is this what love for me supposed to be?
Am I really that naive to have believed its lies?

I left. But I can’t help but feel that I’m the one who lied.

He doesn't burn photographs
He doesn't join therapy sessions
He doesn't smoke too many cigarettes
Nor he drown himself into alcohol
He scratches his wounds daily
And never let them heal
He doesn't try to get rid of the pain
Instead he let it grow on him
He waters the seed of sorrow with his tears
He feeds it with the manure of old memories
He takes it to sleep with him
And nurtures it in himself
Till the moment when every single drop of his blood gets replaced by this pain
Until his fragile heart can bear no more
And his soul starts overflowing with emotions
That's when he dip his pen into this pain
And empty his heart on a piece of paper
He bares his soul for us to feel
He creates poetry that the world would cherish for centuries to come

We cannot write silence.
The beats.
The pause.
The breath.
The way it aches
and persists

and begs that,

if only for a moment,

our consciousness is only a whisper.
our bodies,
our lips,
the air that passes through falling chests
and stillness.

A melody of emotion.
Sleeping in the quiet of a heartbeat skipped
a word lost to the wind.

The wickedness of reticence
Encapsulated in air and time.

The moment stretched too long.
Hesitation perpetuated in the grip of fingernails
pressed into palms.

We cannot write silence,
but we can try.

to find a way to immortalize emotion
to create space
in the ceaseless drone of words that speak and spin.

I cannot write silence. But I can write
tears and years
and the burn of long-stretched lies.

I can write goodbyes and hellos
And dozen ways to say
I love to hate you
Or
I hate to love you
and sometimes
I cannot tell the difference.
Silence.
The space I have upheld for myself.

I love to hate you
Heart.

I hate to love you too.

I cannot write silence.
But I know it.
and I have held it in my hand.