Am I allowed to grieve ideas

Can I cry for broken dreams

The light that used to guide me

In the dark no longer beams

Can I miss someone who wasn’t

and will not be, ever, mine

The person (in my mind) I loved

For whom I greatly pine

Can fantasy be more than real

So real it starts to hurt

If fantasy’s what drives us

Could fantasy have greater worth?

For I miss him, often

A feeling I could not explain

How a love, constructed in one’s head

Still causes so much pain

His mind never wanders

For her hands are on his heart

The taste of honey lingers on his lips

Embedded in the minds desire

Is only her

He will never let her go

I'm sorry that I'm

A storm in a teacup,

And I'm sorry

That you can't fix me.

But I have to believe

You can love me

Despite everything,

Because I have

Nothing else to

Believe in anymore.

Sometimes

I forget how

To love you,

Because I

Don't know

How to love

Myself.

Are you hiding there

huddled hands behind

bricks of lies

formed in blood

built up in

fractured scars?

A disinterested

disinginuous pause;

bolstered bullets

blur between

blue lines.

Shadows naked,

as the restitution

rises over

scattered dreams

of nations

painted gold.

Is this what they

fought for?

Is this what they

died for?

Is this

the place we

stole and lied for?

A democracy.

Democratic

in its transpondence.

Complications that are

fed like hope

to cattle.

Wake up.

Holy Opiates

to subterfuge

the deluge of

bigger dreams,

better lives,

faster cars,

captivating

superstars.

Like a whisper;

We're fading too.

#poetry #poem #poets

She thinks back to all the times

she gasped for air sobbing

And came to realize

all that suffering

was merely her lungs expanding

to make room

for his essence

in the end, i’ll be

f r e e

my reality

birthed from the tar

soaking my bones and

drowning my lungs in

fear, 

      fear, 

            fear

in the end, i’ll be

f o u n d

my resound

voiced from the ache

haunting my heart and

gutting my soul with

hurt, 

      hurt, 

            hurt

in the end, i will

f a d e

my masquerade

come to a close,

breaking the mold and

reflecting my life in

truth, 

        truth, 

                truth

in the end, i will

s e e

the real me

from beyond the thoughts

plaguing my mind and

veiling my eyes with

black, 

        black, 

                black

in the end, i’ll be

free, i’ll be

found

and i’ll fade

when i see that 

in the end, 

it doesn’t 

              even 

                     matter.

I don't much

Believe in 

Anything.

And yet, I

Always believe

In you. 

Your eyes

Will always

Be blue-green.

Your smile

Will always 

Be crooked.

And you will

Always find

New ways to

Surprise me.

I don't believe

In very much.

But I believe 

In love.