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Art to me, is a release.
Music keeps the peace when I’m in pieces
I dance to express, not impress
and I write - to destress.

They say poets are either sad or in love
and it’s true, I write poems
about people
who may never even read them.

I write about different stories
and different phases of my life
each one is basically a diary entry
- because this, this is for me.

When I write,
I am honest with myself
it is a form of self-help
it helps me figure out what I feel,
it also helps me heal
I get my emotions out,
and I realize the things
I’m too afraid
to
say
out
loud.
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
An artist paints a masterpiece.
Uses colour to represent intention and desire.
A highly detailed piece of art becomes his centrepiece,
his everything.

Occasionally he drops colour all around him.
Every colour at his disposal becomes mixed and splattered.

What has been used to create you is now the substance of new imagery;
A new art piece created on the floor called:
'A representation of my feelings for you'.
She’s
perfect
like the moon,
breathtakingly
mesmerizing that,
you can easily overlook
the imperfections in her.
She makes you want to fall in love
with her over and over again;
until the last breath followed by endless void.
Your skin is comfortable
Beneath my palms.
Tanned from one-and-a-half
Lives.

I am captivated.
I want to curl up
Within the pores.

It smells of experience
And trials;
Sad and sweet.

Your skin is soft
From years of having
To be tough.

I am in love
With your skin.
Imperfect.
Lovely.

I am in love with you.
I want to feel your skin on mine
and our hands intertwined
I could lay with you forever
but I know you'd get bored.

— The End —