I wish I could write better poems,
The kind that everybody could enjoy, not necessarily relate to.
I write poems about the explosion of emotions,
The kind where words left and right are skewed.

I wish I could be a trendsetter,
But most days I can't even get up from bed.
I cry into my hole-filled sweater
And continue to view nothing but dread.

I wish I could feel feelings the way people do,
But I find it hard at times.
I wish I was normal and could get through
But all I have are my rhymes.

You **** like poetry; when you move I ache with something too much for words.
Your hands speak to me in a language only spoken by gods and it feels like a sin just having the pleasure to listen.
Hymns erupt from your chest and syllables pound in your hips.
You **** like poetry; goosebumps dance over me like a breath when your tongue etches hieroglyphics into my skin.
Your teeth drip with an inky saliva made to stain; every inch dancing along my throat is bruised with your scripture.
You **** like poetry; quirks from your lips are given dictionaries of definition.
Air was never so good as it was when it graced your tongue
My knees buckle under the sensation of your eyes whispering to mine.
You **** like ******* poetry.

you only make time for me when it's too late

why am i still crying over YOU
I dumped YOU
you weren't good for me
i want to stop please
i hate this
i hate you
please
im de spera te
i cant help it
i think about you
so much
too much

I don’t know if I’m unhappy with you or myself, all I know is something isn’t right.