(2014)
Everyone sees god in a different light but I was born without eyes
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 wrote this while thinking of you so I guess you could say this poem is eight years in the making
Forever seems like so long until I think of all the times spent waiting
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
There is poetry in nature better left to be spoken wordlessly by the breeze
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
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
You were the wind beneath my wings but I was Icarus so all I did
Hope in another form but no fewer letters and I’ve been hoping for these past eight years so I’ll just keep on
I see no joyous rebirth in spring for autumn will bring another death I see no joyous rebirth
The road is long and winding like nothing you can imagine Too many off ramps to count but too few in hindsight
I’ve kept my eyes closed most of these past eighteen years because I find it just as dark
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