(2014)
Passion doesn’t arise from 12 point Times New Roman but rather from ink on one page and another
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
I see words screaming for attention etched in the lines of your face Let me look closer
Everyday I visit the only writers block I know to hone my words and wit and help them cut deeper into the skin
I would write a sweet poem and title it with your name if I loved you at all
Under the weight of life I forget how to breathe and I feel suffocated I hesitantly make peace with the world
I spend my nights wishing on every star in the sky that you are alive and well
I thought I could drink you away but I had to stop being so drunk on you first
I don’t remember any anesthesia after talking with you but I woke up stitched back
I write sharp words with a sharper knife on page after page of what might as well be the skin of my back
Loving you was never sweet like the taste of vanilla the way I thought it was supposed to be It was more like
I grew up in a house built in 1937 long before codes and regulations and sometimes
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
Everyone sees god in a different light but I was born without eyes
So much time passes without feeling a single thing that I think I would give anything
