What is poetry but a fancy way of saying “I love you in a way we will only hope to describe”?
What is art but a fancy way of showing “Your beauty is unparalleled, save for Aphrodite herself”?
I might be Achilles.
I might be Patroclus.
You will never know.
I guess I should touch on it here, in this foreword
Put forward, a jumble of sounds I think is pretty,
And hope you do too.
The theme of love and strife, then the connection and war between, was an allusion
To some Greek philosopher named Empedocles.
Something about the elements and their isolation and lack thereof.
Something only someone smarter would understand.
I am lying in the ditch, and you are too.
Only difference is that I’m looking at the stars,
And you’re listening to me describe them.
I doubt I will ever know
What people mean when they say
This world is kill, or bekilled,
But I refuse to become amurder.
The thumping of the piano keys,
While I sit in thesun’swarmth,
Playing with my toys,
Feels like home,
And I think my legs have forgotten The way to get back there.
Chaos followed by calm waters, Serenity followed by shambles, Writing followed by reading, Poetry followed by art, Love followed by strife, Connection followed by war, Me followed by you, You followed by me, A letter written to you, A response composed by you, A description of how important you happen to be,
I’ll let you in on a secret: The human experience was supposed to be last.
A falsity was written first.
I was never supposed to be a poet. But here we are, I suppose.
The most beautiful parts of the human body
Are the collar bone, and shoulder blades.
The collar bone, the gate To the garden we call a neck,
Decorated with roses wherekissesshould go,
And the shoulder blades, trimmed wings
Tied up in skin in a way that reminds us
That we are flightless angels, doomed to walk with our feet.
They are chains, to theground, to love, to being human.
Or more importantly, tonotbeing an angel.
Rewrite the story but once, only to fixtypos, neverideas. What is the story? Explain it to me once more please, no matter what you say, I just can’t wrap my head around it.
Is there somethingwrongwith me? I hope not, for both our sakes.
Here I am.
Do your worst.
Become everything evil.
Become the only good.
Become a Shakespeare or a failure.
Do your worst.
I’ll bear it.
Your destiny is in your hands, I put it there.
Darling, can’t you see?
The beauty in the mirror is your reflection.
It’s your own achievements, It’s you.
If you don’t like it, then change it.
If you do like it, then why don’t you like yourself?
Stop looking down.
If you need somewhere to get lost,
My eyes are a good part to start.
Not because I’m afraid of what comes next
But because I’m afraid of leaving behind what I love
And finding joy in something new.
I never want to betray what’s dear to me.
I never want to be a bad person.
I never escape the feeling that I’m not enough.
I’m nowhere close
And I can’t help but feel that I’m a thousand-pound weight
Pulling you down to the ocean floor with me.
But maybe they'd rather be the side character than the hero.
Let the dragon live.
This life is about love, not anger.
Yes, a sword may lay beside my nightstand,
But a pen lies on my desk.
I suppose it is time for me to ask the age-old question:
Which is mightier?
The gunshot?
Or the keystroke?
My solution is neither:
To make something, you first have to ruin something else.
When I put ink to paper,
Sure, a beautiful world pops out of it,
But it lies on the grave of silent perfection.
All I ask is that you smile.
I only get so many days to love you,
Don’t overthink it, dear,
I just want you happy.
Don’t smile for me, Smile because you feel it.
Don’t smile for me, Smile for you.