In no way do I claim to be a poet. Art was always just a way to bring my insides out, and my poems are nothing more but pieces of me. My inner artist that aches for a response asks that I share this blog with people, but my nature of a perfectionist demands that I don't. If you stumble upon this, I appreciate constructive criticism. Remember, though: perhaps you can't see beyond ruins to the building that once was, so you can comment on its architecture. Perhaps, you take a look inside. This is a communion, after all.

Wednesday, May 16, 2012

A dedication.

I did this for you
I did this for us
If we can't ever be,
then I can't ever be
and neither should you be.
How can you not see
this is the immensity of my love
for you.
If I can't live without you,
why should you?
This is my last offering
something you can't return.
Something you can't undo.
Something you can't forget.
Something you can't let go.
My dedication.


"-Can you live without me?
-I've been living without you for a long time. Would you prefer it if I couldn't?
-It would feel better, honestly."
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