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  Sep 2018 CeriseRed
She Writes
You asked me why I like you
But I didn’t want to tell
Some of my reasons are cheesy...
But here is why I fell

I love the way your lips curve
When I make you smile
It makes me want to pull you close
And kiss you for awhile

I love the way your eyes twinkle
When you talk about things you love
I truely believe
You are a gift from above

I love that you are compassionate
You have such a big heart
That was the first thing I noticed
Right from the start

I love the way it feels
When you hold me tight
I finally feel safe
Like I could sleep through the night

I love that you don’t judge me
For my less than perfect self
That is more attractive
Than any amount of wealth

There are so many more reasons
But I’ll start with just this few
Maybe someday
I’ll give this poem to you

:)
CeriseRed Sep 2018
I don't want your "good mornings"
and your "have a lovely day!"
with a smiley at the end.
I don't want your "good afternoons"
and  "eat well your lunch"
with three flowers as an end.
I don't want your "how's the weather?"
with those silly emojis at the edge.

Stop...

Rather let's talk about how universe explodes which made two souls collide and brought life the idea,
or how sunsets differ every dusk in every direction from north, east, west and south,
or why the air is heavy,
why the waves of the ocean is weightless,
why do birds fly,
what change we can be,
and more of the likes mentioned above.

Or, maybe not.
Only if you want a dance along the silence.
  Aug 2018 CeriseRed
egghead
We cannot write silence.
The beats.
The pause.
The breath.
The way it aches
and persists

and begs that,

if only for a moment,

our consciousness is only a whisper.
our bodies,
our lips,
the air that passes through falling chests
and stillness.

A melody of emotion.
Sleeping in the quiet of a heartbeat skipped
a word lost to the wind.

The wickedness of reticence
Encapsulated in air and time.

The moment stretched too long.
Hesitation perpetuated in the grip of fingernails
pressed into palms.

We cannot write silence,
but we can try.

to find a way to immortalize emotion
to create space
in the ceaseless drone of words that speak and spin.

I cannot write silence. But I can write
tears and years
and the burn of long-stretched lies.

I can write goodbyes and hellos
And dozen ways to say
I love to hate you
Or
I hate to love you
and sometimes
I cannot tell the difference.
Silence.
The space I have upheld for myself.

I love to hate you
Heart.

I hate to love you too.

I cannot write silence.
But I know it.
and I have held it in my hand.
Inspired by the Vanity Fair article of André Aciman's reaction to his book *Call Me By Your Name* being made into a movie. Specifically the quote, "I couldn't write silence."
Meet me in that place
   where the clouds
                    greet the trees,
   where swaying
             canopies
                        sprinkle
                  dancing
                         moonlight
                         on dark shadowy dreams.
That beautiful place
              of shining light
                     and ever loving grace,
              that place free from fear
                     filled with
                              peace and love,
                                      within
                                skies
                              of  eternity
                                     that never end……
Far away from the hum-drum
                                     of life,
                     far from the place
                          where anger and hate
                            cut you like a knife.
That place where the stars
            sing sweet songs of love
               where the sun and the moon
                      dance passionately above.
Meet me under that big willow tree
            shaded by
                         hope
                             and
                                love,
that place
           that was always meant
                          for us to be free.
That place for you and me....
CeriseRed Aug 2018
The beauty of a poem
Lies between the words
Which captured the poet's soul.
  Mar 2018 CeriseRed
Natasha
I could never tell you
exactly what's going on inside my head,
so I'll write instead.
Drown my thoughts in paper & lead.
Keep my hands alive,
and my expression dead.
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