It was me, not you. It wasn't the right time. I was still getting over my last poem.
We can still be friends, but when I say friends, know what I mean is friendly. Know that I won't save you seat at my table. They are all taken by my books my clothes my love for another.
But when I say friends, also know that, years later, when the pain that first brought you to me is as distant and hazy as the smoke from my first bridge burned, I'll smile when I see you; Note how the core of you is unchanged. Even with your new look, your melody rings the same.
I used to read your poems but lately you don't write you're silent and aloof you know that isn't right. You can't close a door once opened you can't abolish all your dreams you're a poet of the heart mustn't fall apart at the seams. Say what you can in words they speak the message true spoken from the heart the poems will see you through. A hermit's not your style a recluse, you are not never give up writing of things that you've been taught. I used to read your poems I'd read them once again if you would send them out (this one's from a poet friend)
Living in contrasting hues their duality clashes, Oppositions transcend logic and bare pains of confusion, Words take form and pierce the fabric of union, Timeless ventures into the abyss, A departure premature.
I love him I tell myself I know that We will be together forever I don’t believe that We could be separated My thoughts tell me that He’s the love of my life Sometimes my heart lies and says I could live an eternity Without him Like my friends say “We’re perfect for each other” And you can’t tell me He’s not the one.
They said, "The most beautiful art is looking into someone's eyes when they talk about the things they love." And I said, "Or looking at someone you love. Or maybe, just maybe, by looking at the mirror is the most beautiful art anyone should appreciate."
Appreciation post for myself; for you and for everyone as well. You deserve more than the world has to offer.
Whether a comma, or colon: Punctuation slows my rolling I need no period. When I end no Capitalization when I begin Rulelessly I flow my art Not a single! Exclamation mark Are you not the one Who'll know? Where a question mark No longer goes
Warp the structure Bend the lines Put in repeat Let emotion unwind Make yourself Your poetry's the best Be your own ruler Pass your own test
Take your own road Where ever it leads Lover or hater It's all poetry!
Traveler Tim .
Hay No matter who you are You have my deepest respect!
Vanity All is vanity The meanings of passion The aesthetic expression The lines we draw and stay within Even love is beyond intent Vanity transcends Flowing from our pens And so we breathe again
Tend to me Like a thirsty garden once forgotten Sing to me Like a crying infant, pure and innocent Hug me Like an old friend years after Look at me Like an abstract painting, more complex with each glance Touch me Like the the cold steel strings of your guitar Love me Like you did before
I poem I wrote early last year while thinking about with my ongoing need for co-dependence