5.

My pain
fits in words
so much better
than it could
in my heart;
there it lives
and it dies
all in one,
and I finally
can forget,
knowing the paper
bears the weight
of my regrets;
I am free
of those shackles,
and the poem
shall flourish. 

4.

At this point
my thoughts
and I
could take up a whole room
of a library. 

3.

Words could not string together
the love that I am in for you.

It lured me in like melted chocolate
mingled in kisses
under duvets,
and secret touches
even we
pretended not to see.

Once I was stuck,
it was a matter of moments
before I sank further;
my stomach riddled with butterflies
and my mind plagues 
by your eyes,
like it was too good
to be mine.

But you trapped me
for good, 
with that scent you embrace me in,
now you know all my weak spots
I know I'll never
be free.

It's the best way;
the only way
I want
to be. 

2.

The nights are so long,
when I wish you were here
and I wasn't.

The moon
mocks my tears,
as I bundle in duvets
and hide from the world
and pretend 
if I sleep,
I might not awake
in the morning.

It's time like this,
when the world has dropped off,
and my mood wears the sky,
that I know
I will never 
be happy
(not truly)
and I don't need a cause
as to why.

Sad songs 
do not help;
I need arms,
and I friend,
but the one that I wish for
wants nothing 
with me.

So for now,
through this storm,
where the light
can't be seen,
I think
I would rather
just die. 

1.

Your bed is more home to me
than the bones of my birth;
your arms, they could warm me
more than all clothes I know;
your gaze, it confines me
'til your mind is no maze;
and that tight space beside you,
with the air that it gives,
could not fit me better
were it tailored,
custom made. 

The Daring to Dream

Dreams may be wonderful, but my dreams, too, are damage, just waiting to happen.

My dreams, more often than not, are those of the days and the hours, and the times in between, not the minutes that speed by as I sleep. The motivation to be motivated, and the inspiration to be inspired; it comes from those pinpointed moments of calm and clarity, as the waves wash over my mind.

My dreams now reside in words, written down and hidden away in a metaphorical box for no one to see. Until now. 

For my dreams live in poems, and ought to be shared. And they shall.