he was brown
i was blue
like the earth that the water flows through

he was soft
i was hard
like sand being sliced with a sharp ice shard

he stomped
i glided
like when muddy cliff and rain drops collided

he was solid
i was shaking
like rocks over which the river was breaking

he was brown
i was blue
if only i could like him too

I think I've realized the more poems I write about someone the more toxic they are to me

Here's number 25 for you

I suppose that pales in comparison to the thousands I wrote for my first love but I've known you a lot less time

And you've never even been mine

And that's okay

Because at this rate

You never will be.

Scratch off the surface
of anyone's mind
and you might be surprised
at the picture you find
the one that's behind the smile that you see every day
we all paint our faces but leave little traces
in shades of Dorian Gray

Life is a long journey
Full of deep pains.
Hearts tied to chains.
Our heart is our secret well.
Hide and I will never tell.
Coz no one gets your tear
Or understands your fear.

I trust my heart
He is the first and  the last.
He is life and death.
My heart is my real path.
The day I pass away
He doesn't run away
He is buried
With our secrets
Trust your heart.

I'm only One.
One of many.
Many of a kind.
Human kind.
I'm One of a kind.

Mariette St-Denis
Poem 1
June 2015
Published January 2021
#2021mariettepoems