(2014)
The pen must be mightier than the sword For there is nothing that will spill your guts faster than a bit of ink that says
I wish you had told me that on the good days kissing you would make me think that I knew what happiness was and on the bad days
There is poetry in nature better left to be spoken wordlessly by the breeze
Everyday I lived out a song written just for you But you could
You asked what I knew about you and I thought up a list of twenty things
I write sharp words with a sharper knife on page after page of what might as well be the skin of my back
If I was once the tallest mountain your love was the wind that eroded me to nothing
I don’t remember any anesthesia after talking with you but I woke up stitched back
So much time passes without feeling a single thing that I think I would give anything
I hope this is postmarked before my death certificate is dat… but you’ll know why if it is or if it isn’t If you get this in time
I would write a sweet poem and title it with your name if I loved you at all
All that I know how to do is write about death without dying and write about life
There is a girl and I love her and I have loved her since the beg… Or so it seems to me as I only became conscious
Loving you was never sweet like the taste of vanilla the way I thought it was supposed to be It was more like
I wrote this while thinking of you so I guess you could say this poem is eight years in the making
