(2013)
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 see no joyous rebirth in spring for autumn will bring another death I see no joyous rebirth
Autumn sneaks in preceding dormancy Leaves take on new beauty with nothing left in them but a fa… Individually insignificant
I wrote this while thinking of you so I guess you could say this poem is eight years in the making
Everyday I lived out a song written just for you But you could
I see words screaming for attention etched in the lines of your face Let me look closer
I see poems that need to be written scrawled in the shape of your smile and the lines of your face
I thought I could drink you away but I had to stop being so drunk on you first
Passion doesn’t arise from 12 point Times New Roman but rather from ink on one page and another
Everyday brings a new death in three words give or take Some days I drown
I’ll keep searching for the meaning of life and I hope I find it as crumpled paper nearish a trash can
All that I know how to do is write about death without dying and write about life
If I was once the tallest mountain your love was the wind that eroded me to nothing
My heart was paper now folded six times over to make it harder to tear I only hope that
I get my silence in five minute doses before the plane overhead brings me back to earth