(2014)
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 wrote this while thinking of you so I guess you could say this poem is eight years in the making
There is something to be said of a true friend One who will pull the knife from your back One who will stitch the wounds
I have whispered your name into the air so many times it has become the breeze that blows
Everyday brings a new death in three words give or take Some days I drown
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
I would write a sweet poem and title it with your name if I loved you at all
Everyday I lived out a song written just for you But you could
I awoke in the dark next to you and more alone than ever I was amazed to hear your heart beating from
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
You were the wind beneath my wings but I was Icarus so all I did
Passion doesn’t arise from 12 point Times New Roman but rather from ink on one page and another
I get my silence in five minute doses before the plane overhead brings me back to earth
It must be a wednesday or a friday or any day at all for I am painfully aware of the wo… that consumes me
The road is long and winding like nothing you can imagine Too many off ramps to count but too few in hindsight
