Page 19.

I want to be alone for the time being.

Feeling like I’m dying, I’ll be gone in the evening.

And truthfully the idea of death makes life much worth it.

Maybe death instead of love, is what I am searching.

Nothings working, I still feel a dark void just like I am hurting.

Just to fill this black void, is like drawing my curtains.

Dark room.

Closed room.

Make room for my emotions that’s blurting.

Pain in my chest like undergone from a surgeon…

Life gets real when poetry ends, so for now, I am wording.

I’ll leave this here, for that who cares.

Letters written for you to stare –

With pierced eyes I imagine myself looking through you when ever you are here.

But you are not, so my heart rots, as I feel blocked.

Alone, and putting myself down.

Because for now I feel knots…

I tread blocks, walking far to see your face again.

I just want you to stay again…

You heal my heart and this bad place I’m in.

You see the state I’m in – worse than melancholy.

I don’t want anybody.

I felt cured, but now I feel heavy trodden…

Legs blistered, tears smothered;

It’s a dark place that I’m used to walking.

When I go, just feel loved in –

These poems, like a home shared.

Don’t know why, but death is on my mind, and for you I only care.

I feel scarred, I feel scared, I guess it’s terror for us.

Terror for you and terror for me.

I’m tearing apart.

I’m tearing for you.

I’m tearing enough, while I’m caring for you;

I’m through fearing enough.

When you are sharing with me, I feel like it’s pleasurable weight that I am wearing with trust.

I won’t break, with new strength I’m carrying us –

I thank God for pairing us up.

I’m lifting us up.

We’ll get through anything at all that is seemingly tough.

We’ll get through any rain, I promise to umbrella us up.

If the sun is down I promise I’m setting it up.

We can lay under trees, feel the breeze and avoid more storms that are used to wetting us up.

The pain is never enough, it’s hitting us relentlessly.

So until the day we are free, just lean on me.