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bodies under a light
  nothing on our feet
green tea past midnight

lips spell catastrophe
  I reek of calamity
speech drops out slow

fogged-up glasses
  crackle of a packet
of chocolate biscuits

soft fingertips
  seconds swallowed
stuck in traffic

pathetic
  catch her eyes
self-induced electric shock

burnt tongue
  there sing the clocks
she lets me in
Written: January 2015.
Explanation: A poem written in my own time, and the first new poem to be posted onto my Facebook writing 'update' page (link is on my home page).
I have said to many people I do not know how to flirt, and thinking about it, I ended up with this piece.
WE that have done and thought,
That have thought and done,
Must ramble, and thin out
Like milk spilt on a stone.
1295

Two Lengths has every Day—
Its absolute extent
And Area superior
By Hope or Horror lent—

Eternity will be
Velocity or Pause
At Fundamental Signals
From Fundamental Laws.

To die is not to go—
On Doom’s consummate Chart
No Territory new is staked—
Remain thou as thou art.
My cat
is the only living, breathing organism
remotely willing
to keep me any company
and even he is
reluctant.
Sometimes I just want someone to hold me, if only for a little while.
I miss you...
Doesn't always mean
I want you back.
Sometimes, it only means
you crossed my mind and
I hope you're doing fine.
A poets heart is like a riddle
The answers are clear but hidden
Pellucid until they are ready to be seen

When a poet falls for you
They fall for all of you
Your insecurities become their favorite parts

Beware of a poets heart
Full of emotion to drown you in their words
They pull you in and refuse to let you go

Be careful with a poets heart
They are easy to capture, hard to contain
Even easier to break and harder to replace

Don't underestimate a poet
We are the masters of charisma
Words are our vice

Never forget to treasure a poets love
Theres nothing else like it in the world
No amount of searching will give you the feeling of a poets heartfelt
"I love you"
I remember my first time writing on here
I was nervous, scared and a tad naive
This is my stomping ground
My battling
My push to give my everything
The constant vibrant words being heard
Now a poet grave yard, deserted
I miss my poetry home
The loud boisterous words constantly being thrown
I came back
It's my dysfunctional love, all I can say to that
I feel Sentimental, never wanting to leave
There should be no reminiscing about poetfreak
Although, we stand here grieving
I live in a nation called America,
and, today, I am human.
27
is it okay
if I steal your face

make a living
I'll give it back someday

is it okay
to pretend

it's wrong
I know

can we talk for a small second
can you be quiet
don't ask questions

can I steal your face
I'll keep it
wear it when I see them
they're gonna love me

it's in my hands now
I'll never take it off
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