My heart—frozen still,
searching for the will
to forget you.

The alcohol takes its course.
Tears slide down my cheeks
as I try,
fail,
try again
to forget you.

Was my love real?
Or just something to play with—
fooled by the warmth,
cut by your words,
sharp as paper.

You made my heart ache.
Still, I stayed.
Now you just make the alcohol
taste sweeter—
and the night colder—
with every sip.

It's okay,
the drink—
is the love I need for the night.

Our favorite song—
all I can hear
is us singing it
with our whole hearts.

Was it love,
or just—
need?

Every memory in my head—
crumbles.
'Cause all I have now is this bottle
to pour my tears into—
to remember every lie,
you shakily whispered,
in my ears, holding hands.

Now you're gone.
All I have left
is the drink—
we used to share.

In payment for those moments
I gazed at the world through
Windows of midnight hue,
I am lost in wrecks of the mind,
With the tacit knowledge that
There is no fear without me.
It is within:
A flash of radiant light
Engulfed in black eclipse.

Late have I longed for it;
A flash, a wink, a whisper,
A thunderous roar, I seek,
To wrench my gaze of worldly things
And lay waste, at last,
These windows of midnight hue.

Late have I longed for it…
A flash…
A wink…
A whisper…

A hush descends before the heavens weep,
a gentle murmur stirs the leaves to set the stage.
The wind whispers, a breath in slumber deep,
like the delicate rustle of a turning page.

It rises slowly, from whisper to roar,
gales surge with desperate fervor, a wild refrain,
like a restless sea thrown upon the shore,
a swelling harmony of wind and leaf and rain.

Teardrops slip and curve where bending boughs lean,
gliding down a trembling blade in quiet sigh,
a fleeting dance upon the emerald green,
before the waiting puddle claims the weeping sky.

an innocent wish,

started something beautiful,

something painful,

something sad.

a star cannot love in the sense people can

however, a star can study,

a star can learn,

a star can experience.

and as that human girl gave her life,

to keep him burning,

the star felt,

the star experienced

a feeling he never wanted to feel again—

a horrible, rotten, disgusting feeling,

a  miserable feeling called pain.

this feeling,

changed something inside the star,

it allowed him to love.

of all the calamities
it's this one that does it.
chewing on fantasies
wears my bite down.
i'm eroding,
my feathers are fading         away.
i'm going,
to be someone

someday.

They say life is a show that must go on,
but what happens when the show is over,
when the music fades,
the sun sets, and the curtains close?

Will everyone forget the wrong I've done,
the pain I caused?
Will they clap when the show is over—
find reasons for me to be missed?

Will the ones I love—
when they feel empty—
keep me
in their memory?

I've caused pain,
made people cry,
broken hearts—
but will any of that matter
when the curtains close?
Tears have been shed.
Will they care what I've done?
Will they stutter my name?

Will I be able to rest easy—
knowing everyone thinks of me fondly,
and leaves out the rest?

The ones who once hated me,
will they be able to forget,
and love me for the memory I bring—
leave out the rest?

Please, find a reason for me to be missed.
Forget the rest.

Time is ticking—
I only have so much—
time,
before the curtain
makes the credits roll.

Please, don't resent me
for the things I've done.

Leave the hatred,
leave the pain,
the tears—
with the closing curtains.
Find reasons to miss me.
Let me live as a fond memory—
before my time comes,
and the curtains close.

i am not a poet,

nor am i a poem.

i am not a writer,

nor a book.

i am not a painter,

nor a painting.

i am not a sculptor,

nor a sculpture,

i  am not the artist,

nor the muse.

i am an idea,

that exists

only

in your imagination