I know that you're a writer.
One day you're going to tell our story.

It's going to be the greatest love story the world has ever known.
Or the greatest, most tragic tale of loss.

Which way the pendulum swings is up to you.

If a book can make you fall. In love with people who don't exist,

Why can't I when I love you as you wish?

I can't have you by my own admission.
You're bad for me.

Like a ****** addict, I'm desperate.

Every poem a frenzied attempt to restrain my tounge.

Because my words are associated now.

I like you = warning. I love you = run!

But I'm addicted to you. I'd give anything just to smell you on my skin.
To wait in your bed for you to come home.

I don't know how to write poetry like I don't know how to kiss you.

Our lips touch, my heart races, but my hands don't know how closely I am able to hold on to you.

If I could write poems I'd tell you how holding you close feels like finding a life jacket when you're lost at sea.

I'd tell you how your smile is the safest place I have ever known. That I've decorated the walls of my heart with your memories so I have somewhere to call home.

But I can't.

When you're around my body becomes a garden.

Butterflies dance around wildly in my stomach, through a meadow of delusion.

Vines grow and twist around my heart, in the same way that they make old ruins beautiful.

My tongue is paradise.

A thousand blooms unfurling in your sunlight, a bed of velvet soft petals with the sweetest nectar you're only too happy to devour.

You gorge away on the sweetest fruits, th nectar, you take your cuttings for ornaments. And when youre done you leave.

Darkness follows in your wake, my eyes become waterfalls, washing any colour that remained until there is only grey.

I can't kiss you. Because I know that afterwards there is a storm without parallel. I know resting my hand on your skin is no longer a silent I love you. More like a moth flying to close to the flame.

And I can't write a poem, because when you leave me, there is nothing left...

You already know im in love with you.
But did you know that loving you, like i do,
has showed me how to love me too?

I can throw make up like confetti at my own funeral, a coffin with mirrored walls.
Teeth stand in my mouth like headstones in a grave yard,
a bouquet of rose red lips withered under the storm clouds in my eyes.

My body is here in front of you and yet, I am 6 feet under.
Secrets bore into my rotting mind like maggots gouging on the putrid remains.

There will be no hymns at the funeral, no prayers on the tips of tongues.
Just fish hooks caught in throats, of women you have baited, trophies cast aside.
You’ll learn that silence portrays hidden wars of the mind.

My body is here in front of you and yet, we are 6 feet under.
Your fingernails ***** from pulling the soil over our final resting place.

They say when you die you go to heaven.

As if Heaven is always a final destination.

When I'm with you I fear I'm already dead.

When I'm with you, I hope I am!

Im here.
The closest you can be to insanity without the diagnoses.

I sometimes wonder if I want you because I can't have you?

I'll love you forever as you're eternally pure.

You're the one who got away, to leave me asking forever more.

Maybe you like keeping me here, distantly in love.

So, I'll forever dream of you, and never taste the disappointment that comes with trust.

You are not the one.
Me and you, we make no sense.

But.

For my wasted hollowed heart, you are the only one.

You.
You were an echo that shock my world.
I, an explorer gasping in awe of your beauty.
You, an avalanche to trap me here forever.
Your roaring resounds in my ears, words cascading down my self confidence.
You’re rocks, tumbling away from me.
A Hollywood classic, a thriller, a thrill seeking adventure, a true story…
Me, a disaster, a ‘warning: cliff edge’ sign, a fatality waiting to happen.
For I am incomplete without you, and erosion got to ‘us’ first..

I want what I want too much.

I am what i want too little.

First you fall in love...

Then you land on the jagged shards of your delusions.

Dear perfection,

I've been meaning to write you for years.
But I've only known you four months,
Everyday becomes a week and every hour I get weaker.
I'm lost in the darkness of my mind, where your memories illuminate this maze of mine.
I pick up my pen to find the words that have me tounge tied, I'm just trying to say...

I love you.

Thoughts of you linger, time with you is instantaneous.
Alone was a whose beauty only I could ponder.
Loneliness, an elephant in the corner of my mind.
Loneliness, a ferocious beast keeping them out.
Keeping me in.

Your heartbeat is my favourite sound.
I can't get the rytham of your breathing out of my head.

To be close enough to hear this song is is a dream.

I only wish I could hear it just once!

I think I'm tired of waiting for you.
You've had me on my tip-toes for months.
You push, push, push, Stop. Pull.
Your poetic bravado is vacant, admit it, you're dull.

The hunt and chase is part of your fun.
A domesticated kitten, if I play dead, you run.
You never let me get to where your fingers can't reach.
I'm not what you want, lessons you don't need to teach.

We've reached the final lines, one last emotional out pour.
I'll wear my game face, this is how it feels to want more...

I will turn my skin inside out.
Bathe my skull in acid.
Tear my nails from their beds, for use as nails in my coffin.
Grind my teeth for confetti at my funeral.

Sometimes I fear for how long my sanity has left.
How long will my dreams shield me from reality?

To me you are floccinaucinihilipilification,
and as ugly as the word too...

Rest assured that you are wanted.
At any given time and place.

Rest assured that yours is the only face that can soothe my soul.
Even if it is sick or sad or flawless and perfect.

Beauty is not a static state of seeing.
But more a fluid feeling that stays constant.

So, whatever you are is is exactly what I desire.
Whatever you look like is exactly what I want, need, long to see.

Always.

You crept upon me so slowly,
like a parasitic wasp you paralyze me.
Your growing maggots of nothingness made my stomach a home.
My soul a nutritious feast; my body a mindless drone.

I hear an hourglass shatter and time falls over my head.
Grains of sand sting like lead-weight reminders.
My time is fleeting.
Apathy comes to bed with me, protects me when loneliness bites.
Because life is out of the question when existence leaves you with 'mights'.

My notebook is filled with squiggles and lines,
A franctic search for words to define,
The chaos in my head, I scream, I pine,
For a soul to unlock this mental prison of mine.

Loving you is making me crazy.
Some days all I have is a head full of maybe.
Unconditional fits in my mouth like your hand does in mine.
Alone, my hands search through your puzzles trying to find peace of mind.

There is no day dark enough that my heart shall close.
No storm great enough to keep my head under water.
The collosoal tide of time must always nip at my heels.
But my legs will carry me until weight they can bare no more.
I expose my gashed soul to the world because internal infections are hardest to heal.
Flowing crimson red, my fragility, my weakness.
These i offer to you as lessons.
Lessons in my strength and the insidious power that i keep secret.
Behind my teeth, a blossoming garden of bullets dressed like flowers.
My hands, lashing, thorned vines, alluring beauty and a deadly mind!

Maybe the greatest thing we'll ever learn is just to love, but the luckiest is to be loved in return.

For love, real love is unconditional. Not time dependent. Least dependent upon reciprocity.

For when we declare that this world is over and its too late. Ill wait for you at those pearly gates.
For my greatest thing was to see your face and my favourite lesson was studying beauty that hides there.
And ill laugh how lucks not been my lady this life...

Eternity is real, I go there when you're not here!

Today, I sat under a blue sky.
I basked in glory, golden rays caressed my skin and greek gods danced upon the pages in front of me.

Today i made a decision.

A decision that was made long ago.
Long before I woke, before i was even gifted life.

A decision as old as time itself, one forged with the intensity of a black hole.

One that burns with the fire of a thousand suns.

One that has lived a thousand lives before, remembers the tastes of wisdom. Only faintly.

One that wishes to be all it was, all that is no longer.

One that wishes to see all these eyes can see before they close one last time.

A decision that states. That sings, declares, needs, exclaims, screams and begs of me.

A decision, quite and sure as steel: this is not enough.

I've been trying to write you a poem.
But words fail to paint pictures of my vulnerability.
So I pray that you can read between the lines.
Invite you to open Mic sessions under the sheets.
Let you caress the words that are etched on my skin.
The scars of my bare flesh speak more than the songs of angels.
Still, I fear that to you this is just ***, and to me, this is my confession!

I keep drinking coffee.
I keep thinking I shouldnt.
I keep falling in love with you.
I keep wishing I wouldnt.
Because like my murmer, you keep missing beats.
I fill you with love but you're full of deceit.
You say your futures with me, were perfect together.
But simple conversation is exhaugsting. how can we handle forever?

Don't turn off the light, my dear, I'm afraid of the dark.
Shadows that lurk, ghosts that walk by, cold voices speak with the breath of night.
Wrap your arms around me and I'll bathe in your light.
For dark or day, nothing can hurt me, encompassed in your warmth, I know you'll stay!

I wish I could remember that words unspoken are sometimes more powerful.

Im not really dead yet.
My chest rises and falls.
The breath escapes from my lungs, the air curls into ghosts of you.
Empty I loves as icy as your heart.

I won't be planning a funeral.
Doctors won't be pulling a sheet over my head.
There is life between my rib cage, it beats soft like a cats swishing tail.
There is life here, im apathetically not dead.

There is life here but not like with you.
Memories are haunting, like craving for water alone in the desert.
There is no LIFE here, only the stillness you left.

For months I've beeen trying to write you.
To fold my emotions together like origami.
I'd make you a boat so that you can escape.

I'd bleed an ocean of ink from my pen.
Tides and waves, velvety rich and blue.
A grand sail of metaphores would carry you through an ocean of my desires, my ideals.

But, I realized that I was lost in translation.
My hands cant craft to catch your beauty.
I've lost myself in paper chains, a strength of love untold.

Your chains hit the bottom a year ago, they sway in stangnant waters.
Chain links made of memories Bob lifelessly in the water.
They stay around a centre point, gently knocking my shrivled skin.
A blank face drowning in the inky sea, I'll stay to an anchor what was.
With time these memories will bury me.

I was told perfection didn't exist;
until you proved me wrong.

I'd like to take you on an adventure.
To a secret land known only by my eyes.
To climb trees that know only my hands.
To teach you to blow bubbles in the ocean of my heart.

I'll pull a blankly round us, we'll watch the sunset as the weaves crash over out feet.
You can swim in the ocean, a thousand stars will burn your beauty into my mind.
And I'll wait. With my toes buried in the sand and your shirt against my skin.
I'll wait.

For the sun will only rise when you come up, for your love is oxygen in this world.
Ill breathe you in and hold my breath.
For waiting for you is a pain of dazzling beauty.
And a comfort knowing you're still in the world, even if it's not mine.

My fantasies have become very strange, I disturb myself at least once a day.

I imagine, my helpless body sinking. Sinking down deeper into an unknown. A memory of the only breath that would last a lifetime. A lifetime two minutes long.

I go to the library to find peace of mind, to find myself in the pages of a medical journal.
On the pages will be blooms of hope in the names of tablets that can ease my worried mind.

The cold sludge will embrace me tightly. Covering my eyes so I can't see any of the pain anymore. Holding my limbs tight, to remind me that its always there. That deaths embrace is certain. That I will be at peace.

Papercuts cover my frantically searching hands, like warriors. They're fighting for my life, a war against myself. Cramming pages into my eyes and plugging my ears with facts. A Freudian overload, a desperate attempt to medicalise my state of mind.

The thick taste of salty sand fills my mouth, my breath gasps, my involuntary reflex to save my life. The silence comes, the voices fade away. Its bittersweet that my death brings my every fantasy.

They clatter as they hit the sink, prescribed nonsense designed to pull me into myself. Make me more compliant. Dig my own hole deeper. Make me easier for society to swallow, for you to deal with. My hands have finally saved me, poured away the mind-altering remedies. Showed me the only thing I ever needed was already part of me.

My tongue speaks in riddles my ears can't decipher.
It twists and turns, guiding a rollercoaster of emotion.
My hands protect my head during sudden drops.
As my knees crash to the floor to beg for mercy.

There is to much of a good thing!
A good thing.
Good.

But you, you are simply perfect.

We reap what we sow, so I’m put my trowel down.
I have hay fever, and your pollen is notoriously high.

I feel it welling up again.
Like a darkness that lurks outside tightly closed eyes.
My hands cover my ears, but my hammering heart destroys the deafening silence.

Beat. Beat. Beat .

Anatomical. Like clock work.
No doubt that I'll survive.
But will I live while I still have time?
My mind feels like no friend if mine.

To me the rain means to stay.
Water brings nourishment and life.
So plant your seeds and stay.
Let the rain take you home!

I can save myself.
'salva te ipsa' marks my arm, a reclamation, declaration, that this body is mine!

I can love myself.
I can love myself so feircly that not even a thunderstorm dare rain on me.

I can fix my own ******* crown.
For it was my war-torn hands that placed it upon my head.

I can save myself, but for now, I'll tell the truth.
Saving myself means peace and contentment.

It does not mean having you.

Loving you is bittersweet, for this loneliness without you is all consuming.

Though you are unattainable.
You are the most beautiful start-lit sky.
Uncomparable, fleeting.