Don't you dare look at me with those eyes
You don't own my body anymore
Not these freckles that litter my skin
Or the bruises that ink my calves
Your big blue eyes were never there to fall in love with me
But rather to teach me a lesson
The lesson being that before I fall in love with anyone else
I must first fall in love with myself.

Pages: by Dakota Pizzi

We are nothing more,
than words on lined paper .
Who are you,
A poem, a sonnet?
In pencil or permanent?
I find myself to be in script.
Looping ups and downs,
But persistent.
Like threading wires chained along the sky along the winding road,
Meant to be moving ment to keep going.
Meant to say what I say,
And be as permanent as ink,
But never looking back across my many pages.

That feeling of absolute freedom**
that only comes in the summer
When trees are green and grass is greener
Trees seem taller and nights are longer.

We wait for this time of year
every second that it's not around
then take it for granted
until it disappears once more

Summer is youth
it's all of the bad being burnt away
in the beautiful sunlight
It's long hair and tan skin
It's cold drinks and young love
It's happiness.
It's freedom.

She once loved a poet
A couple lifetimes ago,
In a time where the rhyme
Kept her in the flow.

And to the enchanting poet,
The rose didn't smell as sweet
As his first glances at her;
The seraphs couldn't compete.

He was the poem written on her heart,
The love only found in dreams.
She was bound and determined to have him
By any ways and means.

As fate would have it, they had each other.
Their love intensified by his magic,
His use of word and rhyme,
Slowly turned from romantic to tragic.

Because there is nothing magical about love,
It's really a matter of the heart.
Just because you can write on love
It doesn't mean that's who you are.