Is it me?

It must be.

For he always walks away

Especially after I’ve pushed him far

Far away.

Walking away



You don’t understand

This pain

Its a drug I can’t explain.


Doomed to dance the same routine

Like a marionette in an empty theatre


Ghostly applause


At my bleeding feet

Saddest Poem

Although this may be the last pain she causes me,
and this may be the last poem I write for her.

~Pablo Neruda


I’m tired.

Because my life is hurting.

I’m hurting.

Because my heart is bleeding.

Gushing, pouring, seeping, streaming.


Pulses of warm, fragrant, liquid life.

My heart is emptied.

Dance With Me

The way you make me feel…

It’s counterproductive.

To work…and like, other things.

I can’t help but smile knowingly.

I can’t help but daydream.

My heart sings.

My soul dances.

My body hummmms.

Come on,

Dance with me.

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