my mother always said
"don't fall in love with a poet"
they pretend to love you
but what they really love
is writing about loving you
you are mere words to them
feelings cheapened by a page,
dusty grey typewriters,
and many unfinished drafts
of lovers both old and new,
you are the question mark,
but not the answer,
they are searching for ?
person unidentified: mystery
the page wanderer,
each poem a missing
person poster to cover their
bedroom walls.
they cannot love something
that is in their head
poets are the loneliest of
all people, my mother said.
they write to immortalize
what has long passed.
to live within their words,
but not reality,
lost souls writing suicide notes
and proclaiming it art.

It's been a year and I still get butterflies when I talk to you.
That feeling in my stomach when my heart wants to reach out to every part of my body and share the happiness you give it.
"Butterflies". It's been a year and I still call it that.
Butterflies happens when you're dropping on a roller coaster. Butterflies happens when your car goes over a bump and then you feel yourself falling down.
This isn't that. This only happens with you.
This is what they said I'd know it when I feel it.
This has to be what they call love.

Here I sit,
newspaper in hand,
bite in my in bagel,
watching you,
watching me.
Others around me
go about their business
casually, as if they
are not being watched by you too.
If only they knew.

Your glass-eye
zooms in,
zooms out,
watches me read,
watches me breathe.
It tracks my ****** features,
it scans, and scans,
all day.
I must get up now,
I enjoyed our daily meet.

As I get up,
I pass under you,
and your eye follows me until
you cannot see my face.
But I am not out of your sight,
for you are connected
with your sisters eyes,
as the track me
when I am out of your sight.
Forever you will be watching me,
and don't worry,
I''ll be watching you.

They are so perfect
For they end in
Happily ever after
But what if the happily ever after
Turns into a nightmare
Cinderella has her fella but what if he thinks she's crazy
Ariel has her prince but since she don't have her voice he may think she's mute
Snow White also has her prince but what if she is poisoned again
What we see as our hopes and dreams
Are never what they actually are
For they are only
Fairytales

I hope you're well,
I hope you're warm,
I hope you're safe,
I hope you're happy.

'Cause I'm alright,
But I'm cold,
But I'm scared,
But I'm sad.

There's lots of things
I'm worried about.
I'm scared that you'll change your mind,
I'm scared you'll walk out.

And I wonder,
If you're worried too.
If you are,
Then I wish I could
Show you you're wrong.

There's lots of things
I'm scared about.
I'm worried you'll find something better,
I'm worried you'll walk out.

But I remember
Your arms around me,
And I remember
Everything you've told me.

And I wonder if
You're scared too,
Or if you miss me too.

I hope that you're not,
I hope that you don't.

'Cause missing someone
Is the worst feeling to have,
When they're still a week and three days
From your arms.

Into the wild
is where she roams
Path unseen
Destination unknown
Following hearts desire
Leading her to
Blessed inner fire
Trees do sway
As she spares not a glance
at the lights play
The grasses bending
To her will
Forest creatures
Gaze standing still
For never a sight they have beheld
This woman running free
Here in the wild