A piece of you
Reflecting back
The bitter words in your mouth
Too raw to speak
A poet is
Someone in pain
And someone in love
Someone who looks at the world
Through a kaleidoscope
Who takes a magnifying glass to each
And every
Word you say
And lets them imprint on their heart
A poet is
A star gazer
A dreamer
A chaser of
The improbable
But hopes anyway
A poet is
Tissue paper skin
A heart of glass
And a soul of titanium
A poet is
A sharp tongue
And a gentle kiss
She is a sob
He is a sigh
A poet is
The sun at midnight
Bright and
Burning
Hot
Alive
But cloaked in a darkness
They cannot shake
The brightest day
And the darkest night
A poet is
The human experience
A paradox
An oxymoron
So complicatedly
Simple
A poet is
A lover
Who refuses
To stop wearing their heart on their sleeve
No matter how much it bleeds
But rolls them up
So you can’t see
The blood stains
A poet
Is Poetry
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 6:36 PM UTC
What’s this lonely soul to do
when the moon is such a great sight
and only my eyes are here to witness?
And how am I to feel when the distance becomes not the abyss that separates me and the moon
but the extensive vastness that separates you and I?
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 1:52 PM UTC
sometimes I cry
it just happens
I don’t know why
sometimes I cry
and by sometimes I mean often.
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 12:05 PM UTC