Silence
Is
Golden
But
Screaming
Is so much more fun

Yes, I like you.
My feelings go a little deeper than that.

But I'm afraid to tell you because

I have a few extra inches on my waist
I don't have a gap between my thighs.
Sometimes when I speak my double chin pops out.
And my cheek bones don't protrude from my face.

It shouldn't matter though
Because those things don't affect the way I feel.

When you look into my brown eyes, you can still read the novels of my life and my lips can still recite the poetry about your smile.
My hands can still keep yours warm and our bodies can fit together perfectly, almost be mistaken as one.

The size of my jeans won't affect my voice when I tell you how you make me feel, or the way the sun just doesn't shine as bright when you're around.

It doesn't make me different.
It doesn't make me strange.
It simply means there's more of me for you to love.

The trouble with Hello Poetry
Is that I fall in love daily
Held under so many captivating spells
moulded and crafted by all walks of life
I find myself longing for all of you
the broken, the fallen, the bruised
the saints, the sinners
the righteous, the dispossessed
the holy, the unholy
all meet here
to speak of life
as they feel it
as only we know it.
Onwards, upwards
Downward spirals
kindness, cruelty
crashing through boundaries
bounding across oceans
carried on wistful sighs and broken dreams
The trouble with Hello Poetry
Is that it breaks my heart
Then brings me back to love again
All within an hour.

Why doesn't anyone love me?

Did I do something wrong ?

Is it be because I'm ugly?

Do I not say what I'm suppose to?

Is it because I can't go out ?

Or is it the way I dress?

I know my hair is a mess is that it ?

Just tell me what it is and I'll change it!
I can do better I promise!
Just tell me what I need to do please!

Please...
               I can change...
                                          *I promise...

Don't ever fall in love with a poet
because they will indeed admire and watch your every move
they will write about how the pen marks on the side of your palm when you write
don't ever because they will trace
every single freckle you have on your face and
write about the color of each and every one of them and
describe how they smile so brightly under the sunlight
they will want you to want to know every little thing about them
even if it's just what hand they write with and want you
to be wondering why they write with that specific hand when in
reality it doesn't even matter

the poet will watch the way you dig
your eyes onto that book and your small quick remarks onto the 26 letters all crumpled together and will know that everyday at 5:28 p.m. you smile

they will look deeply into your eyes
to see if they can at least take a little
peak of your soul and they will write
about you like if you were the only
thing they see good in this world

they will want to know what you think
about when you look at them and
see if you also count each and
every freckle and hope and write  
that you do but they will
love you endlessly and they will
show you that they love you and only you

but don't date a poet if you aren't
capable to watch them and
admire their imperfections
when they sleep late at night
beside you.

j.f

That girl
Is skin and bones
Takes long drags on her cigarette
Makes funny comments
About not eating
She's mysterious and vague
And she's not real
Eating disorders are not fun,
Or cute, or romantic, or tragically beautiful
There's nothing romantic
About worrying about
Your breath smelling
Of ***** while kissing
Someone you love
There's nothing romantic
About seeing an expensive dinner
Your boyfriend bought you
Swim blurrily in the toilet
There's nothing beautiful
About rotted teeth
And hair growing on your arms
If you think this is beautiful,
You can have it in exchange
For the ability to do basic things
I need in order to live
Like ******* eat  
It's not beautiful
To never feel beautiful
And never love yourself
So when we see ribs on a girl
And you see romance,
I'll see her ribs
As a cage
Keeping the pain in

we should write some sad
songs together
maybe cry until
it feels all better
I know it hurts now
but I'll kiss your wounds
sure your scars will stay
that you always knew
You will be okay
if you let my words
show you the kindness
that your lips deserve