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Remember that elementary game?
The one that you say you love someone,
Then avoid each other constantly?
Like how the sun and moon
Chase each other,
Yet never meet?
Let's play that game.
You can be the Sun;
I'll be the Moon.

The Moon envies the Sun:
He shines bright, giving life to all.
The Moon's beauty is dull,
Reflecting only what she captures
From the glory of the Sun.
On the night where he runs faster
Than she can chase him,
The Moon cries,
Lost in the darkness,
Haunted by the emptiness.

Does the Sun miss the moon
When she falls behind?
It's not noticed if he does:
He shines bright either way.

Sometimes
The Moon wonders,
"What would it be like
To be the Sun?"
All bright and glorious,
With many envying him.
Remember one time that
She stood out,
That she proved herself.
That never happened:
She was only ever the Moon.

She shines,
But in no way is that
Good enough.
She wants to be with the Sun,
To learn,
To grow,
Just like everyone else.

But when the Sun
And the Moon
Meet,
Everyone is silenced into
Terrible and terrific wonder.
Is it right to be together?
Is it good?
Is it safe?
Panic sets in the Moon,
And they part as soon as the
Moment came.
Does the Sun love the Moon as
The Moon adores the Sun?
Does the Sun
Ever Miss the moon?

The Moon will never know.
Fossick Definition: To search hard for anything of value
Don't ever fall in love with a poet
because they will indeed admire and watch your every move
they will write about how the pen marks on the side of your palm when you write
don't ever because they will trace
every single freckle you have on your face and
write about the color of each and every one of them and
describe how they smile so brightly under the sunlight
they will want you to want to know every little thing about them
even if it's just what hand they write with and want you
to be wondering why they write with that specific hand when in
reality it doesn't even matter

the poet will watch the way you dig
your eyes onto that book and your small quick remarks onto the 26 letters all crumpled together and will know that everyday at 5:28 p.m. you smile

they will look deeply into your eyes
to see if they can at least take a little
peak of your soul and they will write
about you like if you were the only
thing they see good in this world

they will want to know what you think
about when you look at them and
see if you also count each and
every freckle and hope and write  
that you do but they will
love you endlessly and they will
show you that they love you and only you

but don't date a poet if you aren't
capable to watch them and
admire their imperfections
when they sleep late at night
beside you.

j.f
 Apr 2014 Nadeah
Jessica Leigh
Exist
 Apr 2014 Nadeah
Jessica Leigh
Sometimes
You
Just
Have
To
Kind
Of
Exist
So
Maybe
One
Day
You
Can
Live.

But
I
Have
This
Urge
To
Exist
Until
My
Walls
Crash
Down.
 Apr 2014 Nadeah
Skadi Snow
When I was very young
I was afraid of my own shadow.

When I saw the shadow on the ground
I began to scream and ran to my mom.
She always picked me up and calmed me down.

You could say, I was just a stupid kid.
But I think it is actually very profound.
 Apr 2014 Nadeah
r
Poetry Today
 Apr 2014 Nadeah
r
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Poetry (optional). Just throw twenty words together.
i always feel so alone
even with people surrounding me
it's strange I tell you
and it sends shivers down my spine
i pretend and say "im fine"

I always try and be the best I can
the happiest I can
use all the resources around
but chains of sadness keep me bound

it's strange I tell you
I can be happy for a minute
and sad the next
always feel alone and not wanted

I guess I'm a creep
I guess I'm strange
I just want to sleep
deep
down
the sea
drown
me
what does it take
to become a writer?
published words
or beautiful thoughts
 Apr 2014 Nadeah
Julia
Pebble
 Apr 2014 Nadeah
Julia
I grow weary of increasingly less
complex humans approaching me
in halls & wanting nothing more
than to see me naked in their bed
& when I say
no
no
no,
how about we talk about why
people die or the shape of
the wind
,
they get


                  blown

                                 ­                   away

in
it
 Apr 2014 Nadeah
Yasi
Untitled
 Apr 2014 Nadeah
Yasi
i was hoping that if you kissed me enough
in places where i thought i was dead

flowers would grow

but i am not a garden
and my dear,
you are far from a dose of fresh water and sunlight
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