If I found 20 dollars on the seat of a bus I would tuck it in my pocket and act like I never seen a thing. Yeah it is considered stealing but... actually I change my mind I don't want to be a thief and go to jail. I would kindly give it back to the sad person who had lost it. I probably needed the money but it wasn't mine it I didn't earn it. that being said I don't deserve it.
As I leave the safety of my front door, I begin slowly at first; one foot in front of the other & before too long I break into my stride. The air is so cold it hurts, it burns to breathe but I do not recoil from it, no I welcome it's embrace. The city is in slumber as I traverse through it's networks of veins and arteries, all I can hear is the beating of my heart struggling to keep up with the pace my feet are trying to set. I am determined, I try to fight through the pain, but alas I succumb to it and must stop. I take deep breathes, the air chills me to the bone but I feel free.
look through my eyes, can you see that star, can you see how it illuminates the world, can you see how it burns the darkness, can you see how it makes me lighter, can you see that although there may be a brighter star, through my eyes the light of you is all i see. look through my eyes can you see the shadows lurking, can you see the darkness encroaching, can you see the demons enveloping the light, can you see my heart, laid upon the stone ground, torn from my chest, barely beating as if it is struggling to find a reason to keep on beating. look through my eyes can you see the emptiness now that my bright star has gone
I remember a time, standing in my best friend's driveway late at night. I took a drag off your cigarette but you told me I could only have one because they weren't good for me. That was months ago. Now you tell me that you're no good for me, that being with you will be another mistake to regret in the morning. But I keep waking up wishing I'd stayed up later to love you longer. And I know that you're good for me even if you can't see it yet. I love you so much that I'll compromise and say that we're just friends even though I know that the universe has much bigger plans. And I'm not one for that type of compromise. So I'll call it blind trust in us, that somehow, someway, someday we'll be together like I knew we should be that night in his driveway.
We are poets.
We find ourselves at 3am with overthinking minds
where writing becomes our solace.
We fall in love with language because we are the writers of words long forgotten.
We spend hours trying to describe poetically
the simplest things you could imagine
or we spend a few minutes trying to explain the meaning of life.
We have the darkest and most twisted minds,
filled with beauty and madness
We write so much that not writing makes us anxious
We are the dreamers in an awake world
the sufferers in a peaceful time.
We are poets,
and our fingers become the pen in which we write
as we pour out our souls onto the page of our hearts
We write until our words become us
and we write until moving a pen across paper
becomes our breathing.