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In that instant i saw you, i saw you
The Planet.
The Planet that you are yet how alone you must feel
Everything else clicked into a perpetual jigsaw and i wondered
What are you?
I felt like there was no room for you here.
Consumed by a celestial body of your own there couldn't be
and i felt so tiny on you
but was the blame ever yours
or were the results merely a gauge of my knowledge surmountable
time may tell
With severe Uncertainty, i felt this. Potentially one of the most unsettling questions i've had about how some of my friends are.
I too...
wake up sometimes
longing to touch you
to taste
tease
tempt
and excite you
I want to wake you up
with soft lingering kisses
and tender rhythmic touches
I want to slide my tongue
deeply within you
playfully persistent
until your back arches
and your breath catches
I want your spirit to soar...
before your eyes
are even open
I want to give to you
the passion
joy and love
that you have hungered for...
I want you
to begin each day...
fulfilled.
I am not a
Poem
why analyze my curves and
connotations?
My living lead saunters
across the page
But its spray
does not spell
Personifications
While metaphorical spiders chew smiles like
grinning similes,
my heart spews skillful
Alliterations
But I am not a Poem,
I do not parade as such,
rather consider me as a passing thought
and even that may be too much
Copyright Krystelle Bissonnette
The very day Creativity slipped a ring
on her finger,
they were wed.
Bound together by a compelling
need and desire
to be together,
to stay together, and
inspire together.
He let her run free,
knowing she would always
come back to his embrace,
for she craved the solace only he provided,
the expressions he alone understood.
They were beautiful,
and the ideas they lovingly crafted together
were beautiful,
if only to them.

She loved him because he was always there
when she needed him,
yet he was his own entity,
independent,
and could not be forced or coerced
into making something out of thin air.
He loved her because she tested his limits
cautiously.
She pushed him farther than he
thought possible,
but her results were mesmerizing.
They loved and created together
in a relationship that is
unique
to every pair of eyes that sees them.

Sometimes he will leave her
briefly,
to love another.
She refuses to be bitter because
she knows she is
guilty
of the same act,
sometimes choosing
Reality or
Selfishness
over her dear creative love.
The time apart makes
their reunion sweeter,
more memorable,
and more forgiving.
Some who know them both
will say there's never been a more
full and fragile marriage than the one
between
Creativity and a Free Spirit.
Loved by overwhelming large arms
Tears wiped by soft fingers
Loved by ALL imperfections
Against ALL deemed common sense
We are loved
And by the work of our failings we are made whole
and given a home
A new beginning
Hope
At least to me,
Actually,
I have many personalities.
They fight and squabble in my brain,
But you believe it’s just a game.
When I talk to different people,
There seems to be a sense,
Because everything I say,
Doesn't always make sense.
Although some people who understand,
Find keeping all the personalities,
A quite difficult task,
Do you care to ask.
I guess I confuse myself,
Before I lose myself,
Especially when I’m by myself.
What’s the difference between the two,
Well why the hell am I asking you.
I know you're doing just fine
I'm sure of it,
I however have been miserable :)
In your absence and all that you did to heal yourself
You tore from me, and with it have become whole
and i am left here
Blowing in the winds of perpetual unresolve
sheltered from the pelting rain of ignorance and sorrow
only by temporary fragile and weak relationships
Staggering to my own two dwindly legs
to face each day so promising with the guilt of selfishness on my back
YOU have healed...
my dear
I have Hurt.
From place to place they take us
From worlds to worlds we ferry, from people
to PEOPLE,
They take many shapes, many sizes, many names, many forms
Through summer through winter they storm
They evolve
Through beauty through art, through existence they build
The fondest of memories
The saddest of roads
Their flaws we fix and their mistakes we forgive and their little extra love
we appreciate -
Automobiles
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