a poem for you; or who I wish you were -

Before bed

I wish you'd say 

goodnight.

Sweet Dreams.

Don't let

the bed bugs bite.

And as I sleep,

my dreams erase

the dull aches within me.

until the morning,

when I wake and

check my phone -

- expecting.

even thought it's 

been months with no

good morning. 

Forgetting

Forgetting

isn't always bad,

But more like

escaping

the desperation

of a broken

ego. 

Deception

Like torture of my soul,

the glow of a lost goal.

It pierces me endless.

Cut open, defenseless.

I bleed, wounded ego.

Words like razor edges.

I dangle off ledges,

built up in mindless fear.

Like torture of my soul.

Looms, there is no escape.

Voices take their own shape.

Mocking, they tear me, leer.

The edge it calls me near.

So I jump free, let go.

Like torture of my soul.

Ode to the Reader

You read my words first.

Perhaps out loud,

or maybe in your head.

I wonder what your voice sounds like.

I wonder how you’ll say each word.

Pronounce each syllable, 

hang on to me.

Maybe a part of you falls in love.

In love with the words,

in love with me.

Maybe a part of you never stops reading.

Perhaps you hate me.

These words are childish.

Poetry is blissful ignorance.

Love, death, the art of a blossoming tree.

I have always loved you, though.

I have waited for you to read me.

To spread your fingers across the page,

The warmth of you delights me.

I wont ever stop loving you,

In fact I wont ever leave.

I will be right here,

Stuck in the pages.

Stuck in the words,

the sentences,

the syllables that you slur so carefully.

I have loved you all along.

And even if you forget,

I will love you then too.

Because poetry is made to love,

And for you I always do.

Broken Glass

I wonder what you see

when all I see is glass.

My skin prickles with tiny cracks.

I wonder what you are

when all I am is nothingness.

My heart shatters with revolutionary speed.

I wonder what you feel

when all I feel is void.

Like bare branches of a frost bitten tree.

Sometimes I wonder if you see me at all.

Maybe I’ve just become the shadow of a mirror,

like reflections of your past.

I’m reminded of words you used to say,

Or smiles you cast my way.

Instead I feel nothing but a knot.

The curling pain in my throat,

a physical presentation of a broken heart. 

Peter Pan

Fairies and pixie dust.

Pirates with hooks, crooks.

The fountain of youth.

Peter Pan won’t ever grow old.

Tick, Tock

Time is timeless

spiraling completely out of control.

Growing up is timeless.

Growing old is time less.

Tick, Tock

Those wrinkles, aches, and pains

you can trade that for ‘coon hats,

trade that for mermaid tails,

trade it all for me.

Tick, Tock

We’ll stay young forever,

It’ll keep us sane.

Fly away with me.

Peter Pan, Wendy.

Tick, Tock

We’re ending,

Eternity is ending.

Now you understand

Why Peter Pan wouldn’t grow up.