good words

I’ve been dancing with a frown
————–on my face,
————staring at lights and only
seeing dust,
sleeping with running make up
—–and trying to eat the
——————-good words
—————–for breakfast.
——————–But the good words
————————-won’t make me smile
——————when I dance.
At least,
——they haven’t yet.

good. bye.

I wish I had never written that stupid book
and that I’d done something good with my life
because no one has cared lately
about a single word I’ve said.


There’s a song I think I should forget
but now I’m listening to it in the rain,
——–when did this song become yours?
The words seep into my skin
like little drops of rain
and I want to cry
but I want to smile.
So I walk faster
because the only place that can save me now
is home.


I can’t write three poems a day anymore
and I can’t even look at my diary because
my hand hurts after holding a pen
———–for more than five minutes.
Everything I write is terrible
and I’m discarding more than I used to,
but I refuse to throw this one away.
I want to say so many things
but I’ve lost the will to say them
and it doesn’t seem like anyone’s listening anyway.
I used to have a wish
that I would be remembered
but, late at night,
I wouldn’t mind being forgotten.