Poems drain from my mind

and manage to stain the paper

with my darkest thoughts

and deepest emotions.

A part of me

which I don't reveal

to the world around me.

Some of them are pretty dark,

but I try to focus on the

light within all the anguish.

All of my poems are for you.

All of them are about you.

I write because of you.

To hopefully reach and get a hold of you.

So I can get your attention,

And hopefully

write my way to your heart.

So I write until

my hand begins to cramp.

The ink from my blue pen

smudging onto my hands.

Yet there's no getting through to you.

You've butchered my faith

and left my hope gasping

for oxygen.

Here I sit,

struggling to pick up

the fragments left of myself,

Trying to pull myself together.

Love has turned its back on me,

and I'm beginning to

turn my back on you.

9/30/19

5:02 PM