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 Feb 2018 Danilo Florenzio
Rose
Skin
 Feb 2018 Danilo Florenzio
Rose
Her skin against mine is the closest to heaven I’ll ever get.
Her soft ocean blue eyes gazing into my boring brown ones
That is the only time I feel safe.
When her long fingers comb through my hair,
I am at peace.
When her breath mingles with mine,
I feel happy.
And when her lips meet mine,
When we mold against each other,
When my fingers lace through her hair while her arms hold me close,
I know…
This is the closest to heaven that I’ll ever get.
2-20-18
You can't understand me
If you're not fall in love.
You're actually not free
If you're fall in love.

Dreaming every dream every night
Want to hug her till end of my life.
She's my air,she's my light
I can end this pain with sharp knife.

I just want to comb her hairs
I just want to look her eyes
I just want to see her face
Every night
And with every morning light.

Why she refused all my love?
Why she broke my heart like dove?
Where the divine justice?
Who will answer for this?
Only the ones can understand who tasted the holy poison of Love.
Occasionally I come across a person with brown eyes,
and I compliment them on those peepers.

More often than not, they laugh and say,
"Oh, they're just brown."
Or
"They're **** colored."
Or
"I wish I had blue/green/hazel eyes."

I want to grab them by the shoulders,
pull them close to me,
look into those eyes and say,
"Your eyes are alluring, deep, and warm."

Eyes the color of delicious coffee,
of which I want to gulp every last drop.
Eyes the color of ancient leather,
the binding of the best books.
Eyes the color of the soft soil,
from which everything good grows.

I say,
"Love your eyes, it's how the rest of us see into your soul."

Brown eyes are my favorite eyes.
Brown eyes make me feel like I am home.
Just know...
He’s had lives & loves before you
Remember that when the bricklayer or the mechanic
Asks for your hand
You’ll receive one flower
Instead of a dozen roses
Picked on his way home
Handwritten notes in your shoes
Instead of Hallmark greetings
Elaborate dinners cooked by him
Where he said he’d clean
Afterwards
But didn’t
Spur of the moment
Road trips
Instead of planned vacations
The opening of windows
For the springtime thunderstorms
Listening to the beat of his heart
While the rain drops
Drip
Drip
I
N
T
O
The drain
He’ll write you with jazz playing
Wine in his bottle
Records in his head
Absorbing you into his world
And if he dies before you
And you bury him
And you mourn over him
Lasting for years
Remember his flower
His notes written just for you
And if you see his ghost
Haunting you
Then the Poet
Has fallen forever for
...You...
As the child grows inside her.
The child inside me, slowly fades.
Aphorisme
 Feb 2018 Danilo Florenzio
Pyrhos
Come walk through the grains with me
Sand shimmering like stars
Constellations of symmetry
See them join and split apart

Come watch over new stars with me
Sparks dancing in our eyes
Starlight like you could never see
Make our home among the skies

Come paint these skies blue with me
Hide and seek between the clouds
Dive right into a stormy sea
Roam unseen depths darkness enshrouds

Come make mountains move with me
Paint monumental worlds
A playground of pure fantasy
Watch your minds power unfurl

Come and wander this world with me
Adventure awaits the bold
Surmount a cliff or climb a tree
What mysteries do cities hold?

Come fly to the stars with me
Let's make this journey never end
I'll be the boat to your sea
All you will need is a pen
★★★
When God created woman
He came up with a well devised plan
Make woman super special
Gentle as a dove
And like a silky rose petal
with a heart for love
Make each woman
unique in her defined beauty,
Like mother earth with curves
to soothe a man's nerves
Make woman
kind with a voice divine
So like an angel of heaven
Her songs of love
will carry notes high
Then God went to work
molding her and sculpting her
and threading red streams
of life giving  blood
through her veins
And when he was finished
God smiled quite pleasantly
And thought,
What a masterpiece I have created
God then whispered in her soul
Come to life my beautiful creation
For I have created
A universe of stars for you
And so woman shone brightly
When she came to life
Like those stars God created
She stretched and sighed,
and thus woman
became poetry
For she sang praises of love
for both God and Man
★★★
sometimes
i don’t want you to know me

i want to walk past you on the street
raise my eyebrow and look at you
while we pass under the streetlight
and swing my hips
so that you turn around
and turn back to your friends
to whisper about me

i want our shoulders to accidentally touch
and i want you to feel your skin tingle
beneath the shirt you wore
--the one that is tight on your muscles--
hoping you would see me

i want you to wait for me by door frames
to walk me to class
and live for the moments i giggle at you

i want you to find my fears
and ache to protect me from them

i want our lips to touch
and i want yours to part
and breathe in
because you couldn’t have imagined
a first kiss
like that

i want you to be unable to stop thinking about me
keep my name on your tongue all day
until you dial my number
and call to talk to me

i don’t want you to know me
because i want you to fall in love with me
all over again
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.

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