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 Jan 2015 Hamayal
Brandy Nicole
I don't feel like a poet, No sir I don't
I can write words upon a page
But does that make me a poet?
I have passion for the art
Am I a poet yet?
My pen meets paper with scribbles of thoughts
Am I a poet yet?
I share tales of the heart
Am I a poet yet?
Today I feel not of a poet
But of a girl who shares of madness
 Jul 2014 Hamayal
Poetic Artiste
I hate it
I hate liking people
I hate being vulnerable
I hate that I want you

I hate that you have power over me
That I don’t want you to
I hate how beautiful you are
I hate your perfect teeth and clumsiness scars
I hate your weirdness
And your awkwardness too

I hate your sarcasm
I hate your adorable laugh
I hate that your voice is cute

I hate how open I am with you
I hate that you are broken
I hate what you have been through
I hate that every piece of me wishes I could help you

I hate your accent
I hate your perfect hair
I hate your caramel skin tone
I hate your lips
I hate that I still want to kiss you

I hate that you are going to read this
Knowing I am speaking of you
No regrets for what I say
All it is is truth

Most of all,
I hate that I have to pretend
I hate that I have to conceal
I hate that I have to become nonchalant to the fact that I feel for you
So I will continue to hate all the things I like about you.
I really do hate liking people. The words are better said than unsaid.
You fell in love with me.

I just hope you jumped.
Not slipped.
 Jul 2014 Hamayal
amrutha
I would paint your sky a thousand colors, if I could
And inspire the restlessness in your heart;
I would give to you a million stars, if I could
If I could, I'd gift you a new start.
 Jul 2014 Hamayal
LiviKawa
Again
 Jul 2014 Hamayal
LiviKawa
I watch your lips
Dancing around
From the words you form

I watch your eyes
Gleam with excitement
From the sights that they take in

I watch myself
From deep within

Falling in love

All over again
 Jul 2014 Hamayal
Amy Perry
On a family vacation
To the mountains of Tennessee,
We were on a hike,
And my Mother said to me,
She had grasped a tiny twig,
To break her from her fall.
She laughed at the irony.
"That isn't much help at all."
Right now, I feel like she did.
This scenario is foretold.
If I fall, I'm falling hard -
And there's no sturdy branch to hold.
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