I am a hopeless-romantic
who keeps romancing the hopeless,
falling for every beauty
who fails to fall with me.
I am a poet who has lost his pen
but still able to print the pages of my heart
using this red ink from all of these deep cuts.
and the purple shades from these bruises.
I lost my dictionary many miles back,
resorted to drafting words from the sky
as if stars had definitions
and sentences dressed as constellations.
I am a breath short of this era,
pretending I have breathed in the before
while merely lingering in the unknown,
embracing every aspect.
I don’t need your god
because I have my Moon
and I don’t need your angels
because I have my Stars.
I don’t live by the words of a tiny book,
I abide by family and friends
and if my message pains your ears
then simply don’t listen to what it sends.
I live these days to watch my sister smile,
to feel her hearts every beat
and when she asks me about life
I tell her to only dream…
because sleeping is worthless
unless your mind can voyage your soul;
dream until every hidden message unfolds.
I am a sleepless sleeper
and my days are my nights.
I wear pointless eyelids;
I will forever show these hazels.
With the eyes wide,
I have seen Hell;
after all I was born on this earth.
I like to think…
I see its beauty?
But beauty tends to be a curse.
I am me, I am me, I am me.
This is all I can be.
This is all I know.
And when I write these words
is the only time my blood
begins to truly flow.\
Michael Biondi
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/who-are-you-michael/
