here is to the poem that died tonight, the one i wasn't quite ready to write
and the only one who will understand it is me even if that was said selfishly
i know your contents and trust me you were beautiful, you flowed so easily
i almost couldn't swallow you before you poured from my lips and understand how truly challenging you must've been
when according to the rumors i'm good at swallowing everything but my pride
a piece of me died as i watched you fall out of my head, grow wings, and fly right out my bedroom window
i'm sorry but you were nature's most beautiful bird song and i just don't know how to sing you yet but one day i will if you ever return
i dripped with something close to envy for the way this poetry was nothing but honesty
yet i pushed it off of my fingertips like it was the last thing i wanted staining me
you were the best poem i have ever written even if i refused to pick up my pen
you were every line i crossed out because it wasn't close enough to perfect but believe me you were perfect
and when my voice finally finds the courage i will scream you
but really i just wanted to say thank you. . . for whispering softly a reason to stay alive
