he is magnificent
whether he has just shown up,
or he has just left,
everyone turns their head
to look for him
people dance under his gaze,
they blush and redden
at his touch
and he gives
without ever receiving
by the time i arrive,
and by the time i leave,
few will have noticed
there is no dancing,
but I hear many secrets
i watch as lovers
lose and find each other
again and again
i hear their whispers and prayers
when they are all
he is the Sun,
and i the Moon
he is adored, celebrated
i am acknowledged
i accept this
because no matter how much
they look to him,
he is always looking
no matter how emotional
i may become,
no matter how much
i may change
he will always be looking
because he loves me
and to love someone,
is to make them shine
Write me a poem,
one that changes every time you read it.
Write me a poem,
but let's never talk about it.
Because to write me a poem,
is to speak to me.
To read your poem,
is for me to listen.
To understand your poem,
is to love you.
But we can never speak about your poem.
Because to speak about your poem,
is to destroy it.
His hands are warm
I do not wonder who they have touched before
I will not wonder who they will touch after
He touches me
In ways hands can't feel
And eyes can't see
I remember your eyes, those long eyelashes, the bright blue staring back at me
But I've forgotten the look of them gazing at me
I remember the curve of your mouth, your soft full lips, the way they puckered out
But I've forgotten the feeling of kissing you
I remember your hands, big and rough from those hours at the gym
But I've forgotten how they feel in my own hands
I remember your long hair, tugging on it even though I knew you hated it
But I've forgotten the smell of it after you showered
I remember you pulling me close in the night, wrapping your arm tight around my waist
But I've forgotten the warmth from your body
I remember you said you loved me, you said it every time you left
But I've forgotten what it's like to love you because you forgot first
Another night in Paris,
but different than the ones before.
Left with love to conquer,
the terror knocking on the door.
I hope this won't discourage,
Liberty, where it was born.
For hatred is an energy
when we are born.
It's harnessed by a twisted way.
A path, that lost souls
Lambs brought to the slaughter.
Brainwashed, to the point of hate.
Where every single drop of blood,
is washed away
with so called faith.
Yet I pray for all the victims,
not to a God that will dictate
I pray to what's within us all,
The love that is the only way.
A prayer to **** the hatred.
A guiding light
to show the way.
I warned you, son.
"Don't break her heart."
Now you think about that while I rip you apart.
I don't know what it is you seek,
but my sister is out of your league.
Failed to see how lucky you were.
Did not heed my warning when you texted her
What kind of ***** breaks up via texting?
The same little ***** that thinks bussing is flexing.
She'll move onto better, just for a toy.
She won't wait long for a mere busboy.
I could go on forever about things that you lack.
Like, interest, money, a life, a six-pack.
You'll never be good enough for my little sister,
but I hope she's moved on when you realize you've missed her.
Lift you up,
hold me down.
please stay around.
Life is a chess game,
and I think I'm your pawn
I get the feeling that soon
you'll be gone.
I understand that there are sights to be seen,
but here stands the pawn that wants to be queen.
I thought you were a king, not a knight with no sword.
Now I stand as queen because I crossed the board.
Little did I know that's how you had planned it.
Now comes the suffrage of this queen's gambit.