1d Denise Uy
calcium
I’m no poet
But I sure sound like one
From my grammar to
the misused punctuation
I can express
What I feel
From my mind
To white paper
The paper is my canvas
my mind is the paint
the pen is my brush
and the reader,
The Art critic.
Go ahead,
critique me
but just like a painting
I don’t plan on changing it
What you see
is what you get

I’m no poet after all
Scan the room, pause at you, blink, scan and pretend I didn't just glance at you.
Look up, pause at you, blink, sweep my eyes away from you.
Lean on the table, look relaxed, write things absently.
I see you at the corner of my eye, scanning the room, pausing at me,
blinking, and pretending you didn't just glance at me.
Looking up, pausing at me, blinking, sweeping your eyes away from
mine.
Permission to push down the butterflies, please?
Let me just try to wipe the ****** smile off my face. XD
Can you read what you read?
I'm sure you can and there's no need to ask.
But it's weird.
Feeling through symbols.
Understanding symbols.
Writing symbols.
Combining symbols to make sense.
But some combinations are wrong.
Making sounds for symbols.
Saying the symbols correctly.
Different accents for symbols.
Drawing symbols, making them look pretty.
Fonts for symbols.

Imagine. We are ruled by systems of symbols.
Language
i hope some day you write a poem about me
to hear about myself through your words
would make me fall in love with poetry all over again
  6d Denise Uy
BLANK
I love you
I love you too
I love you more
I love you most
I love you,
I'll save you from this evil ghost
I'll trade all my tomorrows
for one yesterday
Just so that you can stay
I love you, night til day
As long as you're next to me
You're the one that made me see
Just how beautiful life can be
Wish I can say this to her =D
Fish would rather suffocate in land than drown in water.
There's something I'm itching to write
but I bite my lips and grip the pencil tight.

Nothing comes to mind.

I write this sentence but it doesn't sound quite right, it doesn't quite capture the essence of tonight.

I stare at the wall, then back at the paper where no words land. My thoughts make my hair stand and I want people to understand.

But my hand doesn't move.

So I sit back and write about not knowing what to write.
Here we go again. Hahah.
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