Someone once told me writing is therapeutic. Don't bully me.
My skin turns yellow and my veins black my head is pounding my eyes roll back and I can see you get out of my head get out of my head
By Colin Wareham5 years ago in Poets
Red like our beating hearts Fast like our love and dreams Old like our fights Small like our truth I live through your Monte Carlo
The only one for you and the only one for me That is what has always been true, you see LOVR BOY is my name Why? Because it was a gift
Look at me Close your eyes When I close my eyes you appear like a ghost When I close my eyes, every wrong word I have ever said to you is played back
It couldn't take a thousand poems or more It couldn't take all the words ordered in just the right way It couldn't take the songs of the birds or the smiles of flowers
My deepest My love My wish My energy You fill me up You fill me with butterflies and daylight You glow in the dark and you do everything so slowly
I write for you to right for you who taught me, you who taught me what is true from the mountain tops to beneath the rocks