“14 days, but I can’t change my sheets. Your scents still marks my pillow – and its all that I have left.”

The smell of oak reminds me of summers spent sleeping under canvas, crackling fires and roasted coffee, the soft sound of guitar and voices in unison.

A collection of thoughts bundled together and bound in twine – more toxic than any chemical, my very own poison.

I sit by the sea wall, willing the waves to stay. Pulling away with gentle abandon – they avenge me for doing the same.

And in the end-you didn’t deserve my thoughts or my ink.

Her body may lay on your sheets, but my name sits softly on your lips.

The leaves know when to let go – if only I had the same instinct.

Painting over cracks as you watch the ceiling fall – not everything can be healed with love.

Don’t waste your words on me, your face speaks in volumes that your breath could never reach.

A dishonor greater than any affair, is that of a friend who never was.

Hollow intent and echoes affection, a call with no response. Who could trust a dormant heart – where apathy is shaped like love?

Leaves dance on twisted arms, swaying on the breeze as though choreographed by unseen hands. Even the faithless could find themselves converts, by the smell of dampened earth and its blossoming rose.

I see the way that he is with you – holding your heart with softness he never spared for mine.

Lies sound so sweet when they are wrapped in velvet, a luxurious deception that charms my restless spirit – and I’m forever taken by beautiful things.

I fill the shadow of the girl you want, a placeholder to the one I know you’d rather – I’ll do for now, but not forever.

Maybe this time I choose ignorance, because giving began to feel like losing – repairing a house from rubble, and making sandcastles with the ash.

The knot in a grain of wood, a frost covering sodden grass. Mornings warmed by the rising sun and brewing coffee – the vision of the poet.

I miss you so much your absence causes me, at times, accute pain. I don’t mean sexually. I mean in connection with my writing.

Missing you evolves daily like our love once did before we moved on.

I find you in storms, I feel you in the lightning, I miss you in rain.

Her existence made me feel drunk even when I was sober.

My heart beats for me, always has, but it waits for you.

You are the oxygen and I’m dying to breathe.

I miss you when you’re not there. When you’re happy, it makes me happy. But I could say the same thing about Charlie, Jacob. You’re family. I love you, but I’m not in love with you.

Your lies were so beautiful that I miss them more than you.