I've mastered the art of sad smiles
It seems natural to me now
The slight curve of the lip corners
That never reaches the eyes
Those misty windows hold the truth
It's an oxymoronic action
Of conflicting thoughts
Between how I feel
And the depressing little attempt
To convince others I'm alright
Hoping to be asked what's wrong
But knowing I couldn't explain it
Even if I were

dans une ville de ténèbres
peut-il y avoir de mille feux
de susciter l'espoir ne pas peur

-----

in a city of darkness
may there be a thousand lights
to spark hope not fear

dating a poet is fun,
and you'll learn things about yourself,
that you never knew.
but when you leave her,
you'll be the one who's broken.

you see,
she'll break you down
into bits and pieces-

she'll carve rhymes
into your rib cage
and
she'll make your kisses
into pentameters.

your voice becomes her rhythm,
and each color in your eye
forms a stanza.

you become pieced together
and poorly stitched,
because she's taken out
the very best parts of you
and the very worst.

she's taken you,
and cut out her favorite parts,
and she'll promise to put you back together,
but the funny thing is,
she never learned to sew.

This ****** world just got bloodier,
The streets of the romance city are painted red.
Islamic state, you owned up and sound
So pleased with yourself.
How dare you.
In the name of Allah, the all loving,
You just killed people,
You did it.
Allah, who may well be benevolent,
Has nothing to do
With the blood on your hands.

Paris in the springtime.
Dark winter in the land of fall.
Of guns and bombs.
Machines that ****, at will.
Whose will it is?
Is what we finding ourselves asking?
As human beings.
We implore the end to evil deeds.
Evils preceding war.
God bless the lost,
God bless the lonely.
If only he would.
Paris must survive.
Joie d'vivre.
(c)LIVVI