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NAN Feb 22
I feel. . .
  The cool autumn breeze.

I hear. . .
  The swaying of thunderous palm tree's.

I smell. . .
  Cheap fields of flowers from your perfume.

I taste. . .
  The bittersweet ocean that mocks me.

I am. . .
   waiting
      -▌│█║▌║▌║ Ⓐ𝕃ⓞ𝔫€ ║▌║▌║█│▌
I am a hungry poet named Nan.
NAN Feb 21
We write about heartbreak, a state of depression.
      each stroke, each page turning.

We write about happiness, a state of delusion
      as if artistry could erase, human desire.

Nonetheless,
  we suffer and lie to mask the words.
           - " I love you"
A poet humbly named Nan
NAN Feb 24
Sleep my beloved, upon the field of stars.
    Ardent and bright, in the nothingness that awaits.
______________
I hear your whispers upon my heart,
   I hear its beating in response,
     I laugh and I cry at the same time,
         in this pleasure grief but endures,
             but my happiness lasts unchanged
______________
Sleep my beloved, hear my lullaby.
in the nothingness of the cosmos, paint me a sign upon constellations
-Towards our future meeting,
     unaware, we are already there
        for in you my soul dies,
              and my heart sleeps.
A tired poet named Nan+
    A Dead Poet.
NAN Mar 4
We count down days until virtual reality,
       in the meantime we have poetry where I can . . .
                     𝓈𝑜𝒶𝓇
𝒷𝑒 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝑒
                 𝒷𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒾𝒻𝓊𝓁
𝒹𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂
                  & 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒

Because it is not part of the game. . .
     -🅅🅁 🄳🅁🄴🄰🄼🄸🄽🄶
A dreamer named Nan.
NAN Mar 13
Salt breeze in the air, whimsical mornings.
   poor mans coffee, money clearly lacking.

Take my hand its alright, four feet in the sand.
young lovers, sunshine and waves. .

not a 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝑒
     in the 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓁𝒹
       poor but in 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒
A youthful poet named Nan.
NAN Feb 22
I loved you, until you left.
  My soul weeps, and my heart breaks always knowing.
                - 𝗶 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗱𝗼 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲
An ignorant fool named Nan.
47 · Dec 2020
Monster in me
NAN Dec 2020
In a perfect evening,
  blossoms sorrow.
    a feeling innate,
        to a soul so broken.
           peering upon your waxy eyelids,
                I squeezed treacherously,
                       a reminder of pain,
                             inflicted on me,
                                  cruel fate,
                                         the
                                     monster
                                          became
                                                me
44 · Dec 2020
Scent
NAN Dec 2020
My pride was the lingering smell on your skin,
Day by day, step by step you paraded my scent.
   My heart, mind, body and soul remained engrained in your skin,
         until my vial was empty, and you moved on to the next scent.
#scent
43 · Feb 22
𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮
NAN Feb 22
Tears will not stop the sun from rising,
      time from passing, or your heart learning to forget.
                                  -𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮
A poet lost in time named Nan.
40 · Dec 2020
10:56
NAN Dec 2020
the stars cry,
threads
that weave and reveal
your face.
#when did prose become art?
39 · Dec 2020
Untitled
NAN Dec 2020
You know what,
    I love you
      so cuff me,
        draw the line,
           use me,
             don't respect me
                for I yearn for your touch
#STOPPHILISTINISM
37 · Feb 21
Sweet Poetic Friend
NAN Feb 21
Each poem is a window into your past, present and something more.
    Rays of honey pour from your pen,
       Words of Stars that thrill and enamor sensibility,
          The moon which radiates off your poetic sea,
                 creative, unending and raging,
                       like the words that radiate through every cell,
                           from the sound of your little caged birds.
                                   My sweet poetic friend.
36 · Dec 2020
whimsical beauty.
NAN Dec 2020
Writing of Alfonsina Storni in a modern age,
    a reminder of sweet may morning,
           cafe con leche  in the air,
               a tepid wistfulness,
                    such sweet,
whimsical beauty.
NAN Feb 22
Solitude becomes a choir,
  An illuminating echo that turns into a horrid cacophony.
        Harsh reminder of a dreamer who could not dream,
                    A painter who could not paint . . .  
                          A singer who could not sing . . .
                                Come and calm this song, Come and save me,
                                     From this anxiety, that steals the value of my life.  
__________________
Fi­reworks explode, they color your eyes.
     Do not sing, do not paint, do not dream, simply write.

Artistry cannot erase desire.
   But it can fuel your fire and desire.

Let each stroke, give you sensations.
   Of my hand on yours, a state of warmth and delight.

Nonetheless when you suffer,
      And beg for “HELP!” know.
                I am never.
                         -𝐟𝐚𝐫
Fun little Google Collab between:
- A simple poet named Nan
     & my friend The Dead Poet
35 · Feb 22
g̶o̶o̶d̶b̶y̶e̶
NAN Feb 22
You are a vision of ecstasy, unobtainable divinity.
       Beauty so bright, it mocks the universe.

Cosmic light so blinding, unbelievable sight.
    Beauty so fabricated, I must be asleep.

Held out my hand, love at first sight.
    There is no warmth, only silence.
         -g̶o̶o̶d̶b̶y̶e̶
I am a lonely poet named Nan.
30 · Feb 27
𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑒
NAN Feb 27
My gift to you, our memories that bring pain.

For in him. . .
    You will see me. . .

For in him. . .
    You will see us. . .

For in him. . .
     You will smell morning cups of coffee. . .

For in him. . .
     You will see our passion filled nights. . .

For in him. . .
      You will smell the odor of my skin. . .

Even after years have passed, it will be subtle.
       For in him, you will always see me.
          no happy ending, no escape.
             - you will always see me
                   even subtly , part of you is mine. . .
An angry betrayed poet named Nan.
NAN Feb 27
I'm sorry, for pain.

I'm sorry, for the rage.

I'm sorry, for feeling innate.

I'm sorry, for the mistakes.

For in your divine perfume,
   I am a little man, but a little man,
       who caged you.
          In you, I saw me,
              Each mistake a rosy chorus of mockery,
                     Forgive me.
                          -𝐹𝓁𝓎. . . 𝐵𝑒 𝐹𝓇𝑒𝑒
A embarrassed poet named Nan.
NAN Mar 4
The box cutter on the floor, mute body.
    metallic divinity odors the nose, silence speaks volumes.

Little pink bird, in a dull bluebird world.
     invisible cages, glaring eyes of inconformity.

Little pink bird, let out your voice, soar!
   Only to be met with resentment and scorn. . .

being different is beauty,
   but all you found was scorn.
     now they ask "why" but,
         -silence spoke volumes
             now you are safe in his arms
                be free and ıllıllı ŜoA𝓡 ıllıllı
A quiet poet named Nan

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