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 Jul 2017 Dan Lancaster
Shylah S
no, I'm not talking about the ones with big noses
or greasy hair

not the ones with bad breath
or round bellies

no, I just like them raw
a little broken, a little sad

the ones with scars
a story to tell

I sure know how to pick em' you might say
but I'd never give them up any day

a whole adventure in a person like the outdoors
one with canyons and mountains he would let me explore
only ugly guys give themselves all at once
no parts hidden, everything is exposed

vulnerability is thought to be a weakness but in reality it's bold

I like ugly guys.
So go out there and be real, often we hide because we fear getting hurt. But in that fear we miss out on the world, we miss out on living, and worst of all, love. So even if we may get bruised, get to the lowest of the low, you'll one day stumble upon something that embraces you as you are, something that cherishes your ugliness unconditionally, something that inspires you to be better, whether that be a passion, a person, or something as simple as a smile. Is it really worth hiding if you miss on the chance to experience that?

Edit: I am very grateful to everyone who took the time to read my work and am in disbelief a piece of mine chosen as the daily pick for the very first time! This community is amazing :)
 Jul 2017 Dan Lancaster
Megan H
She said,
I want to die
Just let me die.

And I felt her words
Throughout the entirety of my soul
Because I knew
I knew.

We sat there stroking her back
He and I.
As she kept saying
I want to die
I looked up at him
And I saw it in his eyes
And he saw it in mine
Because he knew.
He knew.

Three broken people
Sitting at a party together.
Her sober thoughts coming out
As drunk words.
I heard it in her voice,
He saw it in my eyes,
I saw it in his eyes,
And for one second,
None of us were alone
Together we shared the pain.
Because we knew.
We knew.
How do I love You?
How have I loved You?
You shower me with gifts, with praises, with affection,
and I can't even give You the time of day.

I ask, I seek, I knock,
and You provide.
Why can't I do the same for You?

You ask to drink from my heart,
to let my tears quench Your Thirst.
How can I withhold?

You seek me in the wilderness,
in the darkness I shroud myself in.
How can I stay hidden?

You knock on the door of my heart,
my sanctuary,
to fill it with Your Life and Love.
How can I keep it shut?

I've whispered through the keyhole,
pressed my hand to Yours through the wood.
But why did I neglect to turn the ****?

Please don't go.
I haven't forgotten You.
I'm still on the other side of this door.
If You knock,
I promise I'll answer.
I've been so busy desiring romance that I'd forgotten the ways I'm already being pursued. I want to love better, to be better.
Never fall in love with a poet
for their words are sometimes lies
on occasions they're a shield
on occasions a disguise

They will take you on a journey
upon which they bare their soul
in a bid to ease your burdens
in a bid to make you whole

But in every word they choose
for the stories that they tell
lies a little piece of heaven
and a little piece of hell

Tormented souls we poets are
sometimes quite broken and despaired
in search of lost expressions
missed by others who once cared

Never fall in love with a poet
unless you're prepared to share their pain
to hold them close on the darkest nights
over and again
Follow me on Twitter @athomashawkins
http://twitter.com/athomashawkins
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