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 Dec 2013 Andre Baez
D
Am I in love? I like to think I am.
Otherwise I wouldn't know
How to categorize these feelings I'm having.
Just the thought of his smile, his eyes, his voice
Brings an overwhelming happiness --
One I have no choice
But to embrace gratefully
Seeing as it saved me, obviously,
From a fate much worse.

Being alone -scratch that -
At having never known
You, I wouldn't know it,
But it would drive me insane.
And insanity isn't a game
I take too kindly to playing.
Bottom line, all I'm saying
Is that you make my life better
By simply existing
By filling up that empty space
I never knew was missing.

*I love you
Before anything
they kept me
warm,
then protected me
from imagined monsters
and harm.
Later they held my
passion
and a person in addition,
now they wrap
my toes and get pulled
over my head
where I sit in sorrow
with an
empty
bed
.
Daniel Magner 2013
 Dec 2013 Andre Baez
witchy woman
Oh, how I pity my poor pessimist
Do you not mind what I scribe?
Does curiosity never approach you
When I know you can't sleep at night

If you do, I hope you discover
That I write simply- you & I.
With my being beyond the horizon
In these words you must rely

A carpenters daughter,
(It's true) I was never taught, how to fix the lonely
But I assure you dear
You won't be in the slightest disappointed

My entire life is an intricate patchwork
Of multiple afflictions
Through hotel rooms & glamour
Abuse & drug addiction

"Through bathrooms & ballrooms
On dumpsters & heirlooms"
Baby, we'll be fine
I know in my minds eye
We'll be fine


As for the sea
I feel the vibrato,
A ripple when you're lonely
But the tides will greet you, excited at the pier
To bring you back home to me  
For darling,
I long only to bury my tear-stained face
In the man too far to say he's home
I do not choose the life I live but it's the only one I can call my own.

*One day
I promise
You will wake in bliss
Between ruffled sheets
And my petite, contented figure
The pessimist will embody nothing
But the purest form of happiness
You stood there, probably cold,
in the frozen foods aisle.
Actually, you had a peacoat on.
When I first saw you,
I only saw your back.
Your hair looked wiry and blonde,
I thought you were aged and frail.

When you turned around with a gallon of milk
your face surprised me.
I was swept up in awe and stared too long.
Your eyes-- blue, kind, and calming--
rested on pillows of roseate cheeks
that looked recently swept by winter winds of New England.

You looked at me, too, but with an austere expression.
I said, "I hope the tempest of your mind
soon finds peaceful resolution in tranquil waters,"
in my head.
She walked past me
her audible rhythmic steps
made with untied,
disheveled
boots.

A beatnik
simply keeping a beat.
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