PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

in the rush of movement

in the sweaty hops of the bottom of this beer

in the trek to the roof blunt in hand

in the laughter of our voices spilling to the street

i think i might be falling in love with you



but i sit down to write this essay

it is due in 10 hours and i haven't started

and i wonder

if i even do

sometimes i think i'm so tired i want to die



my first love came and went

understand i wrote a million poems to him that he never read

and now there is nothing

sometimes i think i am in love

with you

but often there is nothing



home is a far far way away

i got used to being alone with a list of tasks and breathing

i can't give everything up for you

on nights when i am back in my head thinking

sadness is a taste of dead metal and it is forever

my grandfather is dead and he never knew anything about me

usually i want to die and it is much simpler

than trying to show you who i am