Do you miss me sometimes?

Because sometimes I miss you.

Whenever I'm alone

or find myself in a dark room.

My mind travels back to us,

Back to the days shared

and the days lost.

They say you never know what you have until it's gone.

I never thought they'd be right.

I was so selfish.

I was so stupid.

You were so sneaky.

We were kids.

We jumped at the chance to fall.

To let the warm water rush over our heads.

To see how long we could hold our breath.

Sooner or later the water cools.

Sooner or later we have to breathe.

I got chills when the water turned cold.

I wanted out.

You stayed.

You begged me to stay.

You said you could make the water warm again.

I dried off.

There's no point in staying in cold water alone.

So you found warmer waters.

Across the country.

I'll always have the memory of swimming with you.

I'll always miss you sometimes.

And sometimes, I hope you'll miss me too.

"Shop the Competition," is a business term used to describe a method of learning what your rival does better. Reading enables a writer to recognize good and bad writing regardless of the genre he or she chooses to write.

Good writers broaden their horizons reading. They read everyday and anything they can get their hands on, newspapers, magazines, comic books, classic novels, anything in print or online. Writers plunge themselves in words.

Submerse yourself in Pulitzer Prize, New York Times, National Book Award books. Be bold, if a Nobel Peace Prize Winner for Literature appears in an English translation, read it. Follow the authors your audience reads. Expand your reading genres to spark your creativity and enhance your writing ability.

Reading what you write helps you learn more about your audience. It builds an inventory of good and bad writing. Exploring other writers in your writing genre sometimes reveals concepts and ideas you thought unique.

Choose books from the New York Times bestsellers (100,000+ copies sold). Extract what the public perceives as a good book. Wander through every book like an editor and a consumer. Discover how the author triggered your emotions and maintained your attention. Make note of the writing’s quality.

Writing is a skill, but a writer's output is artistic. Every piece of art compares itself with previous masterpieces. Writers need to shop the competition and read.

“If you don’t have time to read,

you don’t have the time (or the tools)to write. 

Simple as that.” -Stephen King

-->

I chose to sit here

I chose to be here

Why would I choose this

Why would I do this?

I chose to be me

I chose to be free

Why would I live this

Why would I survive?

You chose to live life

You chose to live free

Why would you do this

Why would you believe?

You chose to hold on

You chose to keep on

Why would you prevail

Why would you succeed?

I chose to not let go

I chose to hold on tight

Why wouldn't I choose to give up

Why wouldn't I choose to fall deep?

I chose to not wonder

I chose to not be bound

Why wouldn't I be the real me

Why wouldn't I be the free me?

You chose to not murder

You chose to not give in

Why wouldn't you choose to fall

Why wouldn't you choose freedom?

You chose to not conquer

You chose to not battle

Why wouldn't you battle it, why

Why wouldn't you stay here with me?

I get it

It was a losing battle

You were not meant to win

Not meant to survive that long

So I get that you laid down your sword

I get it.

The lid peels away

    Exposing the dehydrated noodles

And all the sodium-filled flavoring

The steam rises

     From the scorching waters

And the smell stimulates my taste buds

The wait begins

     Three minutes, maybe more

And meanwhile I write this piece

The cup-men tastes delicious

      I feel the unhealthyness circulating

But I can't resist the hunger, so I eat

I do want to take a sip

To be under great physic 

The attraction makes me sick

I have plundered my regrets 

Far from heaven,  I defect

Yet I want more, never the less 

As I ran, quick,  to her stead

Breathing faster than a jet

She was missing,  not there 

The relief that came in next

Was enough to shoo my flare

How easy I slip,  I fear. 

I have visited you more times in my mind

Than in real life.

I vividly remember my surprise

When I realized you were in my homeroom

After spotting you in my history class.

Your smile and friendliness demanded

that I come closer;

Attracting me like a magnet.

You awakened the butterflies in my tummy

Without my tendency of killing them.

I could fill a photo album with your waves

And soft smiles.

My greatest fear is also my greatest desire;

That your heart discovers my heart’s

Secret frequency and finds

That it likes its music.

You will always be my hello

But never my goodbye. 

A ghost in my room

Its shadow glows anew

He boasts with my shoes

Terror solemnly starts to build 

Mr ghost,  stop being nude

Put a face to your dew

Scare my thoughts as they glew

I declare,  says the dude

Your shadow rainbow pukes

like chameleon, pink to blue 

Keratin  asleep,  stood 

My skin important muse

Do the latter beat it goons

as they scatter bits to broom

Who delivers? Who is wooed? 

Do the brothers share their ruins

Are they strangers as the news 

pricked the audience to be loose

I for one, toast to the feud 

Ghost and shadow in my room 

The body,  projected doom

two entities,  dragged and used

I stand outside

On a cold January night

Beneath the infinite void

Of the Great Beyond.

In an age

Full of light

When the light leaves the sky

It rises in the land.

But on this night

I stand outside

With no lights around

And I see

The Sky.

A sky I have not seen in years

Speckled with light

As if an angry painter

Had splattered white paint

Upon a jet black canvas.

Here I am on this night

I stand outside

Unable to see anywhere but above

With only a t-shirt and a pair of gym shorts

To shield my body from the cold winds.

But I do not care

If I freeze tonight

And catch hypothermia

Because it will be well worth it

To see a sight I have longed to see.

As the night trudges on

I stand here outside

And as the city bustles around me

I am unaware of what is around me

As I gaze up at the sky.

With no one around me but me

I can behold a scene only for me

And so I shut out everything else

And indulge in the abyssal beauty.

Because as I am alone

I stand outside

On this cold January night

Beneath the infinite void

Of the Great Beyond

And I could stay here for infinity.