Tuesday, July 24, 2012


Forgotten memories tucked away
in a tattered envelope,
I sift through your thoughts
written on a journal page.
These were once your dreams,
why did you abandon them?
Why did you leave them, and I, behind?

Now, you are off chasing after
a goal someone else put in your mind.
You let them take you,
and all that you were.
All that’s left are these broken whispers
that echo when I sleep.

Still, I am waiting for your return,
lost in a sea of missed opportunities.
Would you blame me if doubt settles in?
I can’t help but wonder,
have you already tucked me away
in some yellowing folder
and hidden it from your sight?

Surely, I am already a forgotten memory,
just waiting to be sift through
by another abandoned heart.

My Heart

I have come to believe
that when you leave my side
my heart goes with you,
for it does not beat the same
when we are apart.

By your side,
there are moments when
my heart, it beats,
quickly, so quickly, you can feel it
fluttering against my chest.
And there are moments when
my heart, it beats
slowly, so slowly, you can feel it
still, skipping every thump.

But, when you are not near,
my heart is steady, monotonous,
as if it has been transformed
into a ticking clock
which merely counts the hours
that are left until you are
once more by my side. 


Who are you to say everything is going to be okay?
Who are you to go around spreading false hopes?
You don’t know anything about us,
You don’t know anything about our hopes.
So back off, get off my case,
Because I don’t need you anyways.

You, I

You took my heart away,
and cast me to the side
leaving me alone to die.

You’ve got your dreams ahead,
and have left nothing behind
but a broken promise.

I don’t know what to do
with these haunting memories
of the future we had planned out.

I can’t help but think
maybe there was something
that I should have said.

Friday, July 13, 2012

For the boy who once wished to be an Astronaut

If every star in the sky was a thought of mine,
then the night would be lit by your smile.
And if I could fly and catch a star,
to keep by my side, underneath my pillow,
then my nights would never be dark
and my dreams would always be light.

I once dreamt of a flower, white and small.
It would grow only when watered by my tears,
it would bloom only when warmed by my laugh.
My dream flower grew and grew, but it would not bloom.
Not until the day the star fell from the sky
and pierced me in the heart.

I wish, I wish I truly could fill the stars with my thoughts
and light the night with your smile.
Because then I could fulfill your dreams,
as you fulfilled my own,
and help you reach the moon
and galaxies far beyond.

For Alexander

Give and Take

What more can I give to you
           when I have given you all my heart?
What more can I give to you
           when I have given you all my life?

I have nothing left but these words
that I've pulled painfully from my thoughts
and placed shamefully on this paper.
These letters, words, sounds, sentences, truths, truths,
these are all I have left to give to you.

So take them.
Take them all.
Keep them close to where you keep my heart.
Keep them close to where you keep my life.

Take them
           and with them
                      all that I have left to give.


The dreamcatcher on my wall,
I am sure that it knows all.
All my dreams, all my nightmares.
All my lied truths and failed dares.

It knows the nights when there are no dreams to catch,
only desperate thoughts onto which I latch.
It knows the nights when each twist and turn,
is a dream of you making my heart burn.

The dreamcatcher on my wall,
it has seen the pride before the fall.
And the tears of the newly humbled,
and the swears of times I've fumbled.

It knows the smiles of cherished times
when all the words fit with perfect rhymes.
It knows the pouts of poems unfinished
when all the verses have come out blemished.

The dreamcatcher it knows all.
The dreamcatcher on my wall.
The dreamcatcher on my wall.

Sins and Regrets

Is it alright to regret
more the things I have not done
than all the things I have?

My mistakes I've learned to accept
but not my yet unreached triumphs.
So much time I have wasted
dreaming of what I could be doing.

But must I mourn my fall to Sloth,
in hopes I will find my muse
when productivity becomes my virtue?

Or perhaps I must simply take hold
of all these sins and regrets,
and change them, morph them
into something new.