I will never be good enough
To receive your love.

I was your close ear
And every beat of your heart-
Was all I could hear-
Especially when yours fell apart.

I was your shoulder to cry on-
When the light is bleak-
And the people are long gone-
as your eyes slowly leak.

I was the one to push your back
When the swings stood still-
I cheered you on as you ran track-
and I replaced your happy pill.

I wiped your crocodile tears
When you were alone-
And had no comforting peers-
I held you on a throne.

I became your comforting pillow-
The one you could rest your head-
Softening the surrounding willows-
Acting as your replacement bed.

Your first hug sketched my memory-
Of jagged pain and clear discomfort-
On the fourteenth of February-
As I first held you when you were hurt

I made you the centre of my world-
With the thought that we'd last-
And with rocks and insults hurled-
We finally became the past.

I treated you with respect-
Yet you treated me like dirt-
I never knew what I'd expect-
From one who's never really hurt.

We went our separate ways-
We found and laid our path-
I never have remembrance days-
Where I remember your laugh.

You were a diamond in my eye-
That broke under the pressure-
And with every unruly lie-
You begged me for a loving gesture.

It wasn't love, nor was it affection-
We treated each others false ideals-
We were slowly each others infection-
And things fade as paint peels.

It was never a story of love-
It was a tale of two people-
Who finally said ENOUGH!!
and decided not to write a sequel.

A spark started to ignite
Lights were getting bright
I realised it was all in my head
And my soft heart torn to shreds.
I apologize for the confusion
Guess I was blinded by an illusion
I really thought there was a spark
So I apologise for all the remarks.

Maybe I was too sure of many things
that I shouldn't have been sure about?

So many promises are made
In the spur of love
But so rarely are promises kept
In the spur of hatred.

They say write more poems,
The pain will eventually subside.
I've been writing my heart out,
Bleeding words onto a page,
That is barely able to soak it all.
Yet I feel no better than,
When I started to write.

When will the pain subside?
Is it in this set of rhymes?
Or has the cure gone to hide?
Leaving me alone without a bell's chime.

I would never forget you
So please don't forget me...

He has always dreamed of being a poet,
But in his early life he didn't know it.
Tormented by his own past,
In hopes that they pass,
That their dark fiendish hands no longer cast,
A shadow over him.

Nightmares reoccur haunting his soul,
Of heartbreak and pursuit of being whole,
Those nightmares evoked emotions,
So when screaming at silent oceans,
Was no longer an option,
He turned to his friend ; poetry.

His past keeps a grip on him,
Not letting go of his presence,
He bottled down to his last question,
'Who shall help me when I can't help myself?',
And a twinkle in the sky lit up his night,
He knew the flickering of flame quite often,
But this bright light guiding him,
Was different.
It was the stars,
And that was how he became a star gazer.