My Poems

Eachother

Maybe he's a tree,

bending in the wind,

Starting to give in,

at the smallest amount of pressure,

He'll start to crack,

Getting weaker as the days pass by,

And then he'll break and fall,

and no one will take the blame,

for the still beautiful,

lifeless tree he was.

And when he's gone,

I won't be able to breath,

Like he just walked into the room and stole my breath,

but he left this time without giving it back.

Without him around I'm suffocating.

Or maybe he's like paper,

I watch as he crumples up on the floor,

I want nothing more than to pick him up,

unfold him and make him perfect again,

but once you damage paper,

you can't hide the scars.

he's still perfect to me.

maybe he's like the autumn,

the bright colours before they fade to brown,

the cool breeze twisting through my hair,

the branches left bare,

but the sky, like his eyes,

a misery of grey and black.

maybe he's the ocean,

with secrets only he knows,

maybe he's drowning in his own mind,

afraid of the shadows he possesses,

afraid of the whispers of the waves.

maybe he's like me,

a little broken,

frayed around the edges,

covered in scars,

scars that hold secrets no one else knows,

he's fragile and afraid to fall in love.

we'll catch each other and run free.

like birds,

we'll fly away from this misery and hold onto something else.

in place of all these broken edges we'll find love.

we'll find each other.