Why do we keep on fighting?
Why do we live?
Why do I live?
Why?
Why can't I just leave?

Let me sleep universe.
Let me slip away.

A broken lover is still good enough to

Use.

To use.
Not to love.


A lying lover is so easy to cling to
because lies sound so

Sweet.

And unforgivably cruel.

A grieving lover is so hard to
help.

How do you,
Help.

Explaining the inevitability of death
and the not-likely probability of going to
a "better place".

I would write to you if only I could.

But I can't distract myself from my own head; it just hasn't been quiet around here since my mind first started humming with the idea of loving you.

Knowing your soul like my own would blossom within me like a sprawling forest.

But while you're still unsure, I'm just wandering through the leaves.

And while I'm gone, I'll bet the trees pray to be dead just so they don't have to listen to me talk about you again.

But I ache with sorrow for their misunderstanding,

Because you are a song I will sing until it hurts anywhere above a whisper.

i didn't like the picture ,
so i broke the frame ,
the picture , like my dislike ,
was totally unframed .

there is comfort
in living in black
the devoid of color
makes life seem more meaningful
as if pain has got it's bludgening purpose

but then you came along
sprouted from the ground
petals in pastels and colors all around
and my god

i'll keep my eyes open forever
if it means the black has gone to color
and you promise me that you'll never find
any other

this is irrational. in mathematics, the human reasoning - there will always be some sort of radical fallacy shoved into the equation. you. you sir, are what i call irrational. i can't lie when i say that i'm quite fond over how tall you stand, like a mountain. like a king. you don't rule the valleys and praries of your people, but you've found power along capalliries and veins. this box jutting irregularly in my chest is what you rule. i could construct motes and bridges and stone castle walls to keep you from getting in, but i can't deny i've always wanted to be a queen. your queen. i've never wanted so badly to rule your world. to take the throne and call you mine.

that i've been reading your poetry
(on the new front page)
and,

I ******* love
your words; your worlds;
it's like i'm,
    there. right there,
with you.

you see, i didn't do what you do--
         write my story aloud
--when i was fifteen, or even twenty-two

just an inch off the ground
                        i confided in clouds
stayed lost (was a puff too proud)

that was then, sure, but even today
   (it's 11:11, now)
putting any of it down
committing to this word, not that
this sentiment,
      not that
this meaning
       (and not simultaneously that)
              is walking through fire

and so, for leading the way
           let me just say,
                       i love you

and please,
don't ever stop.