Wrapped in the fireplace
of your arms. Warmed by
the trust in your smile.
The night and our love

Are acquainted. You cuddle close
and feel my heart. I brush your
hair away from your face.
The window and the rain

Are old friends. Soft candlelight
washes over our skin,
soft music over our repose.
The ambiance and timing

Couldn't be better. I look
down at you, you're falling asleep.
I kiss your forehead
and whisper, Sleep well.

With eyes closed, you sigh
and reply, Then don't go.

Just because two people love each other
Doesn't always mean they should be together
♡♡♡

I've never had many
Problems with history class
most of it's pretty interesting
And I find it easy to pass
But the one thing I don't get
The one thing I cannot see
Is why an American high school
Has this curriculum of eurocentricity
We spent three full months
On ancient Greece and Rome
And less than a week
On the Ottomans' home
We spent one month
On Europe's rebirth
And exactly zero days
On Muslim scholars who changed the earth
We spent two full days
On the palace of Versailles
And not a single class
On Mali or Songhai
One month passed
With European exploration
But not a word was uttered
Of Timbuktu's nation
And don't get me started
On Aborigines or Micronesia
In Asia, China and India aside,
You'd think the teacher had amnesia
What I'd really like to know
Is why our curriculum
Spends most of the year
On all things European
In this melting ***
That we call America
It seems that our lesson plans
Need to be a bit fairer

You look so pretty in your glass house,
Stones in hand.
You look so silly in your glass house,
Thinking you could withstand
All the gasoline
Burning up those bridges you built.
I guess when you were fifteen
You weren't thinking about all this guilt.
You look so silly with that little kettle,
Making fun of the *** behind her back.
Those words stinging her like nettles,
Until, finally she cracks.
You look so mean standing there
Ruining lives without care

or a song, I have to think one minute,
might I be long and winded?

or  a short melody

Or might I rather be

A song sung

on MTV?

Or a National anthem sung
at sporting events.

Or The Raven.

Tap tap tapping

might be more my style

to  be Plath
so talented and tormented

or Whitman
so much like Van Gogh

not appreciated in the time
or Emily

just writing and hiding them away

no,

I'd want to make a
******* difference

if I were a poem, someday