A Love That Always Feels Like Autumn

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The weather is getting cold
and she’s sitting near the furnace—

Reading sad books,
as she unties her tied shoelace.

A love that always feels like autumn—
is the feeling she always gave me.

Dead with the hope of being born again—
her kiss on my neck that drives me crazy.

The way she drinks her coffee
is one of the sexiest things I like to see.

The way she says my name
is the thing that convinces me that it’s meant to be.

A love that always feels like autumn—
is the feeling she always gave me.

Dead with the hope of being born again—
the taste of laughter in her mouth that makes her lovely.

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August 9, 2018

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I understand actually, what it’s like to feel like the only way to understand the pain is to self-destruct. Real family or friends aren’t there all the time for me and most of the time loneliness consumes me when they’re nowhere to be found. That’s why there’s cigarettes, drugs, and alcohol because sometimes I don’t have that option that others have which is to reach out. But when I finally have the chance to talk to someone I don’t. I have a problem with trusting people, and I love sleeping pills too much.

June 6, 2018

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I wasn’t kind, but I wasn’t unkind either. I wasn’t anything I guess. I wasn’t anything to anyone at all. I was nothing, a sort of non-being and I just wanted to fall asleep during the day. I let my face drown in the darkness of the pillow and tried to think that it was already night. I was in so much hopelessness. I literally couldn’t walk. I had this body that I needed to clean, feed and control but just thinking about those things made me feel very tired.

I Am The Architect of My Own Destruction, page 25

Retiring My Book

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I may retire Confessions of a Wallflower soon so get it while you still can. A much better collection will be self-published in June. Wishing you all hope, love, and healing. ✨

Happy National Poetry Month

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Happy National Poetry Month to you all. I’ve been feeling nothing lately like everything I do feels pointless which isn’t doing me any good. I’m currently in the process of creating my next collection which tackles about the loneliness of human existence and self-destruction, suicidal feelings, being in an unhealthy relationship, my mental illness and how I’m recovering through the art of mindfulness and overall it’s about finding hope and growth and stars and flowers and beauty and survival despite the meaningless of life and finding the meaning to my own suffering. 

Confessions of a Wallflower isn’t a book that I’m entirely proud of, and maybe it’s because I write differently now compared to my 19-year-old self, but I’m still happy that I did create this book even if some parts of it makes me cringe at the here and now. I hope you consider purchasing it to support my life as a writer/poet as I pour my soul in creating my next collection. 

To the hundreds who have read, I am deeply grateful. ❤ Love, Juansen. ✿