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  Feb 2018 Janna Smith
Amanda Kay Burke
I am breaking your
heart in two. At the same time
I break mine as well.
Sometimes you have to do what is best for your well-being even if it feels like it's destroying you. I just wish he could understand how much it hurts, he thinks that it was no big deal for me to lose him but it is the hardest thing I have ever gone through in my life. I'm sorry I had to hurt you, but it hurt me more.
  Feb 2018 Janna Smith
Amanda Kay Burke
If I could turn back time
I would hit Backspace all day,
Id put on Caps Lock
and SHOUT what I say.

I'd use the whole Alphabet
To tell you hello,
Press seven Numbers
Til you picked up the phone.

I'd Tab through the comments
I didn't want to hear,
And use the Arrow Keys
To drag your body near.

I would Delete the harsh words
I didn't mean to speak,
And Insert the "I love yous"
I before couldn't leak.

I would use Ctrl to
Keep reigns over my heart,
And I would Escape lies
That tore us apart.

I'd Print out your photo
And kiss it goodnight,
Use the Calculator
To check that we were right.

I'd Paint you a picture
of us, you and me,
Then I'd hit Enter
Just so you would see.

Those are the things
I would do in my strife,
If only Backspace
worked in real life.
This is the first poem (that I have a copy of) i wrote that I actually thought was good. I was in seventh grade, twelve years old, and I wrote it for a newspaper competition. I knew it was really great but I didn't think I would beat all other applicants in the state in my age group. So you can imagine my surprise I'm sure when I DID win! That is the first time I was proud of my writing. So this one has a lot of special sentimental value. Thanks for reading.
  Feb 2018 Janna Smith
They say that love is between a man and a woman.
That the racing hearts and soft whispers are to be between that of a man and a woman.
Yet when I look at her, my heart races and my mind fogs.
They say it is wrong to love that of the same ***.
That the soft touches and moans of pleasure should be shared between a woman and a man.
But when her mouth meets mine and my hands find her hair, I can't help but think that they are the ones that are wrong, not this.
Because this,
Her mouth on mine,
Our bodies flush against each other,
The look in her eyes,
Is love.
The soft whispered words and racing hearts is now something that both she and I share.
And when her body slots perfectly with mine
And her eyes show that there is nowhere else she would rather be,
I know that this is love.
The way my breath hitches
And my heart races
And her soft gaze is all I can seem to focus on,
I know that this is love.
And if this is what love is,
If this is what it really feels like,
It will never be wrong.
This is love.
  Feb 2018 Janna Smith
you are my sunshine
you brighten my day
take the coldness away  

you are my sunshine
wherever you are i can feel you
you make grow and stand tall

you are my sunshine
through all the worn tissue
i know it’s clearly you

you are my sunshine
and only that
my everything
  Feb 2018 Janna Smith
your lips
remind me
of the words
my hands
they had the courage
to write
  Feb 2018 Janna Smith
Kartikeya Jain
"She was an
unusual dresser.
Every night,
she wore bruises
on her heart,
love on her lips,
pain in her eyes,
and ink on her fingers.
They called her poetry."
Janna Smith Feb 2018
A week ago, you became part of the statistics called "The number of suicides of children and young adults in Slovakia". Girls aged between 0-19 years have always been the smallest part since 2011, and it happened anyway. And now I am reading your most favorite author and I can’t understand anything. You and those poems. And you aren't here in order to explain it to me, so I'm just reading and losing myself in a text that I still have maybe a chance to understand, unlike you.

I miss you, sweet dreams.
If you are interested how it looks in my mother language:

Už je to chvíľa čo si sa stala súčasťou štatistiky s názvom “Počet samovrážd detí a mladých na Slovensku”. Dievčatá ktorých vek bol medzi 0-19 rokov mali od roku 2011 vždy najmenšie číslo a aj napriek tomu sa to stalo. A ja teraz čítam tvojho asi najobľúbenejšieho autora a ničomu nechápem. Tebe, ani tým básniam. A ty tu nie si, aby si mi to vysvetlila a tak *** čítam a strácam sa v texte, ktorému mám ešte hádam šancu, na rozdiel od teba, porozumieť.

Chýbaš mi, spi sladko.
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