spill

there is no start in what I want to say
because as I look at the sky and
gaze at its infinity and wander off
with the misty wind that
tends to hug every part of
me, I see the details of 
the fine lines of ideas
and sparks and scraps of paper
torn and not, they lay
scattered on the cold floor
there saying something that
should have been spoken
yet still waiting to be unearthed
traces, just traces
of sweet summers
familiar laughter
meaningful glances
they were long gone
as the waves crashed upon 
the tiny ebb of
warmth, it dims its flares
as I bleed into another
torn piece of paper
I can't start what I want to say

Come Away

Come away with me
Let us sail the uncharted waters
And watch the sea
Paint things 
That cannot be seen
Come away with me
Let us walk the 
Moss and grass of earth
Have the wind carry us
And feel perfect mirth
Let us trace our steps
Make one at a time
Look up high to the heavens 
Make the trek worth a climb
Listen for hidden words of wisdom
Though walls may seem unkind
Because we will seek freedom
And define it for the blind
Come away with me
For there are far great things to see

stupid sad poems

i keep writing stupid sad poems

and when i do

the paper tends to rip itself in half

stupid sad poems