Slow, deep kisses.
Another nameless woman, months ago.
The weight of her crushing my legs.
But I didn't mind.
Mousy brown hair and light tan skin.
Light blue eyes and dark pink lips.

I wonder if you can feel my love from here.
Wandering Love for what would I be without you?
Pale, soft skin and warm lips.
Greenish blue eyes and dark brown hair.
A name I can't remember.
Her hand rubbing my bare chest.
Months ago. Just a fling, nothing else.

Now I wait for Christmas and the one.
I wonder if I am going to be single forever.
I wonder when I will love the one.
I wonder who the one is.

Your naked body against mine.
Dark tan skin and strong muscles.
Your crimson lips on my light pink lips.
How my body fitted like a perfect puzzle piece in your warmth.
Your night blue eyes meeting my coffee brown eyes as I worked at Casey's.
You smile at me at the farmer's market and your cheeks blush scarlet red against your dark tan skin emphasizing your night blue eyes.
I smile back and blush dark pink against my light tan skin making my coffee brown eyes seem darker as I focus on you.
My heart still races looking at you then I remember you are my ex-girlfriend.

More family events today.
Family game night, last night.
Tiredness from last night sticking to me like a second skin.

Last night. I dreamt of you.
Last night. The white wine burned going down my throat.
Last night. I was wondering if you are okay.
Last night. My mind kept drifting back to you.
I kept thinking of your lips upon mine.
I kept thinking of your beautiful dark blue eyes and your smile.
I kept thinking about us.

Snow falling.
Shivering in a coat.
Sun covered up by the clouds.
Snow glistening.

Didn't say this then saying this now:
I love you too my Lena Luthor.
I will always be your Supergirl.
You were my first queer love and I am glad you told your parents about us.
I would be nothing but a lovesick lunatic if you didn't give that love confession last year.
You inspired me to be a better poet.
You inspired me to sing my heart out.
Didn't say this then saying this now:
I want us to be friends again. One of these days. Some part of me will always love you Chelsie!

From an angel's eyes to a poet's pen.
Poems are made.
Humble beginnings is where we all began.
Trapped in routines. Caught up in religious traditions.
Freed by making poetry.

Coffee with so many flavors and don't know which to focus on.
My cat Jasmine loving me as always.
Waking up headache gone.
Now I have to find a present for my father.

Ever changing life and waiting for the one.
Counting down the days 'til Thanksgiving.
To see my brother and his wife.
To get together with my family.

Coffee, strong and bold.
Outside is cold.
Coats and jackets.
Christmas shopping and hanging out with family.
One more week of Fall then stepping into Winter.

God told me to keep going.
And to focus on the center of my heart.
But to keep going where? What am I doing that He wants me to keep doing? I know my heart is special to God.
It has been a Holy Spirit filled weekend.
It may be me making new friends at work or me making poetry.
So I am going to keep making poetry.

The Gregarious Guy has dark brown hair, scarlet lips and pale skin.
He is strong, sweet and talkative.
He wears black frame glasses that brings out the dark blueness of his eyes.
His voice is rough and husky.
I work with him.

The Sweet Girl has lightly tan that it is almost pale skin, full, dark pink lips and light blue eyes.
Her voice is as gentle as the wind.
She is vivacious and kind. She has a dimple on right cheek when she smiles.
She is someone I work with.

The Kind Guy have light blue eyes and a sweet smile.
His voice is deep and growly like a lion's roar.
The Kind Guy is someone I work with.
I have known him since we were kids. He was cute then too.
He still is cute. He have dark tan skin and pink rosy lips.
His hair is light brown.
I don't have a crush on him. He and I are just good friends.

Thinking in Stanzas, the mere thought or to continue in thought is how the poem is.
Thoughts of poems and creations of poems. For we are not greater than the Great Poets and Poetesses before us.
For we are modern poets of this technology and of this age.
Thinking in Stanzas, to think a dear thought is to develop a poem. For thoughts are how poems are made. Let the thoughts be great of love, death or desire. For great love is how poems of love are made from.
For great death is how sorrow is not void within each poem about death.

It's peaceful, it's one moment you are there, the next moment you are no longer breathing.
It's going to heaven for a few moments and then coming back to your body.
It's catching your breath after dying for a few moments.

It's no secret I love you.
It's no secret that those 4 nights together were spontaneous and amazing.
It's no secret we still exchange smiles.
It's no secret those dark blue eyes enraptured me into your beauty.
It's no secret that when we took turns smiling into each passionate kiss.
It's no secret that when you told the whole town about us that people in this religious town wouldn't understand.
It's no secret that your giggles from those nights are still in my mind.
It's no secret that I want to kiss you again.
It's no secret that we were together those 4 nights and I want you, only you.

To touch her, to feel the soft skin.
To feel her warm lips against mine again.
As I see that smile of hers and I feel my heart swell.
As I gaze into her dark blue eyes, everything seems divine.

That one wedding long ago, she was in a night blue dress.
I was in trance looking across the dance floor to this beautiful creature.
She glanced from her friends to me then she smiled at me.
The more we gazed at each other, I felt electricity.
With every twist and turn I was trying to impress her with my dance moves.
And I did impress her with my dance moves then she disappeared.

Darling don't go too far away for the luminous moon can't take away the love I have for you.
Darling for my abstract heart may be tattered and mended I can't stop thinking about you.
Darling for our eclipse is only a few seconds, they are precious moments to me.
Darling, keep gazing at me for I will always love you.

It's more Spring than Fall because it's in the 50's and 60's outside.
It's more Spring than Fall because it's so warm and toasty.
It's more Spring than Fall because people are walking around in short sleeves rather than long sleeves.
It's more Spring than Fall because no one is wearing jackets even if you are wearing a jacket you are overheating in them.
It's more Spring than Fall the only indicators of it being Fall is the fallen leaves of oranges and browns as well as the Thanksgiving decorations in every store.

Being fully healed from lovesickness is wanting to love but curiosity still wins every time.
She is vivacious with her dark blue eyes and slender body.
She is wants me to be more than friends with her.
She flirts with a smile and captures my heart.

Being lovesick is like being punched in the gut instead of the face.
Being lovesick is like your crush shot you in the chest.
Being lovesick is forcing yourself to eat when you don't feel hungry.
Being lovesick is feeling nauseous at a familiar scent.
Being lovesick is feeling your broken heart consume you with depression.

Long ago, the night you resurrected me.
I was dead for not that long.
You were pressing on my chest and using your breaths to bring me back. When I came back to life:
I kissed you and you kissed back.
You cuddled with me the rest of the night. Then left in the morning.

A time of joy. A time of giving thanks.
Family and friends.
Lots of food and dessert.

It happens every year. Stores all decorated for Christmas.
People spending money on expensive gifts.
It is romantic the Christmas Walk.
There is hot chocolate. A Christmas tree lighting.
All kinds of singing. All before Christmas.

When she loved me I knew I would always love her back.
When she loved me, passionate kisses and her dark blue eyes gazing into my dark brown eyes.
When she loved me, I remember how soft her skin felt.
When she loved me, us exchanging smiles.
When she loved me, I remember us taking turns smiling into each passionate kiss.

With it tattered and mended.
True colors revealed in its scars.
Wild rhythms and melodies.

She is the sun and I am the moon.
She smiles and I smile back.
A few seconds our worlds collide.
For a few seconds I gaze into her dark blue eyes and she gaze back into my dark brown eyes.
For a few seconds she is mine and I am hers.
For a few seconds everything feels right then I am back to my world and she is back to her world.
For a few seconds we are infinite.

That is to say going to church isn't fun for me yet it is fun for me.
That is to say I know the Holy Spirit and Jesus is real because I felt their presence. It is just sometimes I question if God is there because I don't know if he listens to my prayers.
That is to say I know He exists because you can't have the Holy Spirit and Jesus without God. I know my Heavenly Father loves me even if my church hates me for being bisexual.
That is to say I am spiritual not religious. I believe God the Father, Jesus the Son and the Holy Spirit loves people who are good people.
Because the outcasts, black sheep of the family, rebels and people of all sorts deserve to be loved and I think the Holy Trinity loves them.
That is to say to be godly is to love your neighbor and follow the ten commandments which I do follow the ten commandments and love my neighbor. So to be godly should be that simple. Because to cherry pick the Bible would be ignorant and stupid. I don't care who hates me for the way I see the gospel.

Sometimes it seems days run together in a blur of business and boredom.
Sometimes it seems days run together only remembered by book chapters and hanging out with my parents.
Sometimes it seems days run together tv shows and movies only remembered by my mother's smiles and my laughter.
Sometimes it seems days run together because one moment it's yesterday and the next moment it's today.

The Church I Don't Belong In because if they knew I am bisexual I would be a martyr.
The Church I Don't Belong In I volunteer for events for my church all the time but I feel I don't belong in my church.
The Church I Don't Belong In, sure I was raised in that church but I am not straight as they all expect me to be. Because if they knew that I am bisexual they would look at me differently.
The Church I Don't Belong In, sure they are my friends but they don't know the real me. I have ex-girlfriends which would shock many of my church friends.

Being schizophrenic, you see horrific things in your nightmares.
Being bipolar, every emotion is supercharged.
Being bisexual, don't get erased by society's standards.
There isn't one way to be you. There isn't one way to have a heart.
There isn't one way to have a mind. Being who you are and speak up for yourself or someone else who matters to you.

I write poetry to give a voice to people like me who are bisexual, mentally disabled and mentally ill.
I write poetry to give a voice to bipolar people and schizophrenic people because I am bipolar and schizophrenic. And chances are they are afraid to speak up because of stigma regarding the mentally ill and the mentally disabled.
I write poetry to give a voice to bisexual people because I know hiding in the closet *****. And I want to give those people hope if they are trapped in a religious community. Because other queer gave me hope while I am trapped in my religious community. We don't even have a Pride Parade in my town.
I write poetry because I am free here among my fellow poets.

I donated blood the day before yesterday.
As blood seeped out of me through a tube into bags.
Slowly blood flowing. Breathing deeply and trying to relax.
The needle dug into my vein. Yet everything felt right.
Except my hand tingling and I couldn't feel my legs.
But I got feeling back into them quickly.

The World is Divided between Republicans and Democrats.
The World is so Divided between two halves of itself it is blind.
The World is Divided between red and blue that it forgets the color purple.
The World is Divided between moral and liberalism that it forgets that both is an option.
The World is Divided between truth and lies that we forget what the truth is.

Love is gentle like a cool breeze on a summer day.
Love is strong like arms wrapped around you like a hug.
Love isn't always forever but it is worth it.
Love is sweet like a deepened kiss
Love is passionate like a love confession years later.
Love is affectionate like being told I love you years later.
Love is indescribable.

Is the courage to love worth it?
Short answer, yes
If you were to ask how so?
Long answer, to love and be loved in return is the greatest thing in the world.
So the courage to love is absolutely worth it. Whether it's new love or old love starting anew. It is always worth it. Because she or he is worth it to you. Because to love is be selfless and love beyond yourself. So yes have the courage to love.
Love so much that you forget what other people are thinking.
Love beyond who you are and become someone amazing.
Because chances are you are amazing.

I lost my reading glasses and now I have to wait to go to Walmart to get new ones.
I lost my reading glasses and now I wearing these stupid blue light glasses.
I lost my reading glasses and now I am all sorts of bored.

Drinking to drink is fun because you are in a happy mood.
Drinking while depressed is just asking for the drunkenness to drown you in your sorrow.
Drinking to drink is easy because you don't have to worry about what anyone else thinks.
Drinking while depressed is basically strapping yourself to a rocket and hoping not to die.
Drinking to drink everything is light and bubbly.
Drinking while depressed is diving into the drunkenness and hoping it does **** you.
Drinking to drink is joyful and lighthearted.
Drinking while depressed is hoping the reality fades as you drink yourself into insanity.

Why do we fade into crowds, we don't belong in?
I don't belong in a church because I am bisexual.
I continue to go to church because my straight friends are there.
But they think I am straight when I am not.
I prefer women. I have slept with women.
And I don't care what the church says. I still want a girlfriend.
Even if the church hates me for existing.
Why do we fade into crowds?
Maybe it is because it is easy to do. But fading is just existing.
I want to live my life authentically. One of these days I will.

As Macbeth once said, "Hell is empty and all the devils are here."
We are all fighting our own demons trying our best to get through day by day, night by night.
At wits end to infuriating madness trying to be better than what we once were.
I was once a grief stricken poet turning pain into poetry.
Now I am a beloved poet making sense of my past loves through poetry. So I can be a better lover for whoever comes next in the future.

Magic is fake, I seek no wealth from any psychic.
Magic is fake, they are just people hiding behind a mask.
Magic is fake, they are just people with pretentious mumbo jumbo that are begging for money from vulnerable people and it is sickening.
Magic is fake, mediums can go ***** themselves.
Don't seek anything from mediums or psychics because they are phonies.
Magic is fake, all it leaves you with is a headache and more confused than you were before.

I keep seeing shadows. One moment they are there the next moment they are gone.
Some days I feel like I am losing my mind. Other days I feel like the loneliness is eating me alive. My life is healthy. I hangout with my friends at the Coffee Shop, once a week. I hangout with my family, all the time. I have friends at work who I hangout with twice a week.

Ten years ago. I went trick or treating with my first boyfriend.
We held hands and got lots of candy.
The funny thing is he turned out gay and I turned out bisexual.
I broke up with him on Christmas break.
He told me that I was the only girl he ever loved.
I loved him too. I felt safe and comfortable around him.
But I knew he wasn't the one for me.

I wonder if you ever think of me.
I wonder what your days are like.
I wonder if you ever miss me.
I wonder if you are okay.
I wonder if we could start over.
I wonder a lot of things.

5 years ago. She loved me speechless.
Her lips upon mine.
Clothes off. Passion to Passion.
Warmth to warmth.
Every smile and caress, genuine.
She whispered in my ear," You look better shirtless."
By dawn of morning I rested against her bare chest listening to her wild heartbeats.
As we got our clothes back on a couldn't help but stare at her. Then I went to back to bed. She kissed my forehead goodbye.
As I woke up in the morning overwhelmed by new strength and emotions.
I knew I would see her at college. My ears were ringing of her heartbeat on repeat. So I drank coffee and listened to music. The coffee taste better. My music sounded sharper and crisper as if every note had a new meaning.

Love is someone who called you their Supergirl.
Love is wildfire and electricity.
Love is them being my Lena Luthor.
Love is indescribable, passionate, all consuming and true.
I know was first true love with you my Lena Luthor.
Because I love you too.
And if you are reading this. I never questioned your love.
Love is sometimes starting over and I want us to be friends again.
Because this Supergirl will never give on you.
You said, "Drop the innocent girl act."
So here is me being bold.