(2014)
I see poems that need to be written scrawled in the shape of your smile and the lines of your face
My heart was paper now folded six times over to make it harder to tear I only hope that
All that I know how to do is write about death without dying and write about life
The hands of this watch haven’t moved since the last time you did and I’m not sure if I’m ready to hear the ticking
Forever seems like so long until I think of all the times spent waiting
Loving you was never sweet like the taste of vanilla the way I thought it was supposed to be It was more like
Under the weight of life I forget how to breathe and I feel suffocated I hesitantly make peace with the world
I’ll keep searching for the meaning of life and I hope I find it as crumpled paper nearish a trash can
Everyday I lived out a song written just for you But you could
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
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
You were the wind beneath my wings but I was Icarus so all I did
I write sharp words with a sharper knife on page after page of what might as well be the skin of my back
I awoke from a deep sleep and knew the reason was to write I love you
Passion doesn’t arise from 12 point Times New Roman but rather from ink on one page and another
