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Sometimes I wonder if these rain soaked shoes will get me home.

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She wanted romance. I just wanted to fuck the stars out of her eyes.
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With her, the world becomes art.
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Poems are a nice way of saying fuck you.
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I’m wrong but I’m real.
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Failures often become art. And art can never fail.
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I hated you. and you hated me. But we called it love.
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Her memory still lingers, like a cockroach in my heart.
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We search for meaning. And destroy it.
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A lot of ugly people hide behind beautiful eyes. A lot of things are only lies.
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Beautiful Hide Lying People
Sometimes there are no words. Sometimes, it’s just poetry.
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This heart. It’s broke. I don’t want it anymore.
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Broken Heart Heart Myself
It wasn’t forever. But I loved her until I hated her.
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Forever Hate Love Myself
If there’s never been a restraining order, it ain’t love.
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She was an artist on top of me, and soaked my sheets with poetry.
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She’s like turning on the radio and hearing a brand new song.
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Overcoming guilt, its the first step to doing it again.
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Deep Guilty Let Go Repeat

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