Your eyes, they were my favorite, always so glistening.
Your lips, so addicting, loving when both of ours combined.
Your hair, so extending, waves cascade down your shoulders.
Your laugh, so adorable, l could never get enough.
Your beauty, so admirable, flawless in my eyes.
Your smile, so broad, ever so appealing...
i lost it all, not once but twice, just my luck, all for the wrong price. Now i'm sitting here, throughout the rain, in an immense amount of pain. I'd take it all back if i could, take my chance without a thought. Start from the beginning, shouldve known my mind was spinning. All those late night convos, turned into short hello's and goodbye's. Not saying it's your fault, but it was me who didn't try. What happened to the walks we'd take, meet up and come home late? Late night strolls around the mall, didn't even hesitate? All my fault, i was so selfish didn't see it from your eyes. How you'd feel afterwards, me telling all these lies. I lost it all, not once but twice, just my luck, all for the wrong price. Now i'm sitting here, throughout the rain, in an immense amount of pain..

Beauty doesn't mean
Pretty eyes
Gettin all the guys
Clear skin
Stick thin
Everyone.
Everything..
Has beauty
Beauty is skin deep
The phrase is so cliche, yet so true
Ignored by the ones who need it
Beautiful soul
Beautiful heart
Beautiful personality
That is the beauty in us
God sees our true beauty, even if it's hidden from the world
You can go through with a false understanding of the word,
Or...
You can choose to see the beauty that God has put into each and every one of our lives.
The beauty of potential
Beauty is a choice
Not a fact.

Sometimes I like to wonder,

does my pen move
the same way as yours?

Does it
             dance?
Does it
             sing?

                        Does it
impel a grateful piece
of paper to smile,
and laugh out
tiny bubbles of its dream
to be admired in the Louvre?

Or does the paper bleed
angry droplets of deep-coloured
ink-blood from its ink-heart
from its ink-soul; or does it cry
little black tears
from its dark fountains of literature?

Does the paper feel
all of these things
as you sketch your last
line
or as I write my last
word?

What then, when every one of your pictures
makes words in the thousands?
How many more chunks of eternity
can you paint versus my poetry?


                    Yet you say I understand you.


Sometimes what you paint
flickers like in the movies,
and every frame

makes me wonder

if the way my pen moves
is just something someone animated
in her free time instead of studying.
Maybe then it wouldn't be too much
to say that sometimes
you sketch me into life.

Maybe then, this is why, sometimes


                    you say I understand you.


Even if I can barely hear your oxygen
over the noise of glittering pixels
that often disappoint us when we seek
more
than these strange profundities online,
where emotion is a commodity
and not ink... not paper...

It doesn't matter.

Because maybe my pen
was sketched by you.

And maybe
your poetry, your art
Dances. Sings. Smiles.
Laughs. Bleeds. Cries.
                                     Breathes.


                    So you can as well.

Can you keep a secret ?
If I whisper in your ear.
Find a spot so you can keep it.
Until the coast is clear. We can
sit in the meadows as the deers
pass by near and the shadows
disappear. As the fear fades away
and your mine for the year. Today
tomorrow and for a forever. Can
you keep a secret if I whisper it to
you under the hotel chandeliers. Where
the crystals shine bright and
clear . Can you keep a secret
As we sit by the babbling brook
We could hide in the country side
Were no one would think to look
If we stayed in the city
I'm sure we'd be found out.
Can you keep a secret ?
If I tell it to you now. As the
roses bow down to us while
we sit on the grass and blush.
As we feel our pulses rush. With
a gentle touch and a hush I’ll
whisper to you the sweetest
words of love ~

A shimmer in your eye.
A glance at your face.
Sets my heart apace.
The sounds around me turn into echos of each syllable that comes out of your mouth.
Your lips become my focus.
As it moves my mind traces out each perfectly formed line imprinting them in my memory so that I can dream tonight.
I become a photographer behind a lens.
Waiting, watching as each word is pronounced how it contorts your face.
Waiting, watching for the moment my finger can click the button that will set start to the explosion of light as morning dawns and your face is illuminated catching the perfect timing in a matter of seconds hen your guard has been let down and your heart is revealed bringing to life the well shelter untamed emotion of my meaning to you.
The the shutter closes and once again the wall is up leaving the mind to wonder if the eyes have played tricks on it again.
But the acceleration in the heart beat ask the mind question itself again, if only it can find the right box with the right photo of that millisecond when the heart felt as though it had been struck by an arrow causing the stomache to knot.

You send tingles down my sides,
You unsettle the butterflies,
You make the liquid dew drops to fall from flower petals.
You cause the peaks on mountain tops to rise.
You cause a catch in the inhaling of a breath,
You cause downcast eyes to stare.
You cause chests to rise as a deep breath is drawn in.
You cause muscles to tighten.
You cause the lilies to open.
You cause the wind to blow across the hilltops.
You make the land dry, then bloom with your water.
You cause the streams to part.
You cause little soldiers to wonder in wetlands and marshes.
You cause the owl at night to hoot.
You cause the peaches to ripen
You cause the fruit to be harvested.
You cause the  windmill to spin.
You cause the grinding of wheat to begin.
You cause the earth to tremble and shake.
You cause railways to break.
You cause rope bridges to swing.
You cause uncontrolled emotion to sweep through allowing no chance to return.