I've been having lots of trouble writing stuff for a long time but I did write this. It's different than stuff I've tried to write before; and I don't really know what to title it. 

- 

relapse, flashback

fallback

return to comparison

longing

stomach drops

wishful yet

sad

knowing it won't

can't

not enough

shaking

shaking

breathe

breathe

breathe

when you don't know what you're doing and you've had all these poetic fragments floating around in your mind forever that don't apply to you at all and now you're finally stringing them together

because words are more than this

i have held you

can't i

just give you all of my

love for once and

cry for a reason that is not

because i feel like i'm

falling apart and then

you always keep me

together so i'm

vying for you

loving the moments i can

capture your

smile and won't you

stay with me so

long i can tell you everything all at once

and it just comes

tumbling out of my mouth

because all along i have

loved you in such a

way i could never tell because

how do you ever just look someone in the eye and say

i love you

more than this 

but i can't

be enough

for a life so beautifully broken

so hold me

vie for me

let the words tumble out because

we wil be more than this someday 

And some more~

crying glass

holding the world because i

trust my own hands but they're 

shaking and i

can not do this alone

anymore so please hear my

cry for help so this life i am trying so hard to

save does not come crashing down and it'll

be my fault and so many will

suffer and step on the

broken pieces and well couldn't i just

cry because i have my own

struggles too even though i'm

better off that's sometimes not

enough

to make something beautiful out of

the brokenness and

love it so dearly cause

tears look beautiful on the world and

won't you help me

not to piece everything together but

love it for what it is

the shining sun over a 

dying horizon and i

reach out for it because it is the

hope i'll always hold dear 

I had to write a poem about The Hobbit for this book project at school and I decided to do a pretty a sort of archaic form.

The treasure lay before me

a massive mound of gold

but what is that miasma there

that speaks of the unseen and untold

Oh that dreadful dragon, he,

who sleeps there all the while 

and dreams of dreams of rampage,

dreams of heat and dreams of fire

The gems they do sparkle

the goblets they do gleam

but oh the darkness means to scare

and the shadows stir the bloodstream

Oh that dreadful dragon, he,

who sleeps there all the while

and dreams of dreams of rampage,

dreams of heat and dreams of fire

The silver shines like moonlight

precious jewelry forms a pyramid

and a feeling of staring scrutiny persists from

that thin piercing ray of red beneath the drooping lid

Oh that dreadful dragon, he, 

who sleeps there all the while

and dreams of dreams of rampage,

dreams of heat and dreams of fire 

Of Porcelain and Glass

~~~~~

Falling to my knees, I stumble over the hardly visible fragments,
fingertips running over the transparent sheen that reflects my distraught figure;
Gingerly, my fingers close in on the shards, eventually clasping them tight,
clutching them as if holding on for dear life.

Sobs that would rip any silence apart, tear from my throat
as I try to piece back this mangled mess, heedless of the already-prominent pain;
Seeing this, you try to pry my treasures away, attempting to help in any way you can,
but my grasp only tightens, clinging to the last reassurances I have left;

Your heartbroken expression goes unnoticed, my heart-wrenching sobs
cast out any logic I might have had; I am certain that the jagged edges 
don't hurt, although everything else aches and stings;
The world seems much too cold and cruel, far too unrelenting.

Soon, scarlet begins to slip and mingle among dulled diamonds,
Those same diamonds that were supposed to never break;
And yet here they lie, shattered; discourtiously gouging
delicate porcelain, bitterly shredding any last inkling of hope.

The scent of salt stained with an irony tang permeates the air,
sidling, glazing over the once-clear, now clouding surfaces;
Perhaps that first sound of smashing of glass should have foretold it,
but now, again, it goes disregarded; seemingly shrouded in an audible haze,
seeping through fragile consciousness, before ebony blankets this torn world. 

@Jaybells, thank you for the compliments, it means so much to me!! I do agree that my poems have been getting angsty, though.