The past, the present, the future.

What I've done, what I'm doing, what I will do.

The old me is not the same as the me I am today. I broke bones and I broke hearts but that's okay.

Now it's the present, time to reflect on who we were. Just don't look back for too long or the memories will burn.

I know I did wrong but next time I'll do right. Next time I won't leave you alone in the night.

Next time will be different, "I'll save you," I said. But when is the next time, if you're already dead.

Isn't it weird how we see the image of stars that no longer exist when we look into the night sky? Sort of like looking into a mirror and seeing the reflection.

Love will **** you
It'll bend you, break you, throw you around.
It's like a tsunami:
consuming, powerful, inescapable.
You and tsunamis are pretty similar.
When I saw you I felt you in the deepest parts of my being, smashing around and displacing my insides.
And when you left, you took away parts of me I can never retrieve. Like a wave returning to the sea, taking with it all in it's path.
You and tsunamis aten't that different after all.

Art is what happens when you let go of the fear that comes from ditching the status quo.

It doesn't have to be born on paper, or drawn with a pen. Art is a lifestyle, not a talent created by men.

"Poetry rhymes"
that's what they said.
I tried it a hundred or more times
until my fingers were red.

I tried writing about you -
all the things we've been through.
I made memories into rhymes
but not once did you materialize.

Finally I realized that's not what it's about
poetry is something you can't breath without.

Poetry is making someone else feel
all the **** that you've endured.
No, poetry is not about rhyming
and of that I'm sure.

"Good girl!"
he said, as she took her first steps.
he gave her a hug, and she was proud.

"Good girl!"
he said, when she answered the question right.
he gave her a gold star, and she was proud.

"Good girl,"
he said, after her fifth shot.
he kissed her slow, with his hand on her thigh, and she was embarassed.

"Good girl,"
he said, with a fistful of her hair.
he pushed her head down, and she was numb; she stopped being proud a long time ago.

"Good girl,"
she told herself, when she finally got
it right.
she gave herself a pat on the back for realizing she alone held the key to her own self worth.
and she was proud.

I dissected a heart today,

and it wasn't for science.

I shattered your being

and bathed in your silence.

Your innocent is what

became your downfall,

because you believed

innocence lied within all.

You found joy in the

love of twos,

but my joy came in

destroying you.

You find joy in love

and all its parts,

I find joy in bleeding hearts.