(2014)
If I was once the tallest mountain your love was the wind that eroded me to nothing
Hope in another form but no fewer letters and I’ve been hoping for these past eight years so I’ll just keep on
Everyday I lived out a song written just for you But you could
I’ll keep searching for the meaning of life and I hope I find it as crumpled paper nearish a trash can
Everyday I visit the only writers block I know to hone my words and wit and help them cut deeper into the skin
You asked what I knew about you and I thought up a list of twenty things
I spend my nights wishing on every star in the sky that you are alive and well
I don’t remember any anesthesia after talking with you but I woke up stitched back
I have whispered your name into the air so many times it has become the breeze that blows
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
Passion doesn’t arise from 12 point Times New Roman but rather from ink on one page and another
I wrote this while thinking of you so I guess you could say this poem is eight years in the making
I see words screaming for attention etched in the lines of your face Let me look closer
Autumn sneaks in preceding dormancy Leaves take on new beauty with nothing left in them but a fa… Individually insignificant
So much time passes without feeling a single thing that I think I would give anything
