I am a collector.
Some would say I am good.
Others would say I am lucky.
A few who know me would say I'm a *****.

I couldn't care if I bang you.
I just want your number.
I'm just feeling the need to be better
Than everyone else.

To know I can get your girl, or that one over there.
My presence is bigger and I'm more important, you should care.
To know I could sleep with a celebrity's daughter.
The paparazzi would obviously look at me if they caught her.

Trust me, I can beat you at whatever it is.
I might be lying, A bluff; hit or a miss.
I've done someone like you before this,
A dozen times or more.

Bottom line ladies and gentlemen:
Know not just who I am,

I make myself look like a rogue and a roar
For fear of finding my role.
Collecting people and demanding more
Because I am afraid of who I am.

It's alright to be me.
I am nothing more.

Funny how you can see yourself at the bottom of the barrel for your entire life.
Funnier how you can end up being at the top of the food chain.
Sad how some people never learn to let go.
Sadder how some people can never hold on.

A year has gone by.
I have been high, I have been low.
I can never go or come back again, experience goes to show.
I'm over it, I'm done. I kicked it all for good.
Just keep moving, walking and breathing, just like you should.
Because you are beautiful. I knew you always were.
Just smile and watch my feet as they move through the neighborhoods.

An early, gentle breeze billows
the curtains and lilts a rose that blushes
from the memories of last night’s love.

A hush of air teases a white shirt
with a strawberry kiss on the collar,
still draped across the back of the chair
where it was carelessly tossed the night before.

Sweet sunbeams tug linen sheets and smile
warmly and sweetly behind the ears.
Good morning, love.

Safety and silence, slowly breathing
within an embrace in the only moment
that has ever caressed like this.

I've recently been contacted about having my collection of poems published. since you all are such great fans and supporters, I invite you to go 'like' my Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/courtneyksnodgrass
you'll get additional sneak peeks like excerpts and quotes from the novel that I just finished writing as well!
it would really mean a lot if you guys could go like my page and then invite your friends too. (if you feel I deserve it)
all is appreciated, thank you so much.
~Courtney Snodgrass

Watch the cars cross Hillcrest and Hoden'. Seeing the world and living life has always had its fortunes. Believing the light to crawl and make your way to foreign shores, we never catch ourselves sleeping during every waking moment.

You're the moon outside my window,
And the stars in my sky.
You're the wonders down below,
And the birds that fly by.

You're the fish in my sea,
And the foam on my waves.
You're the leaves on the trees,
And the rocks in the caves.

I hear you, and see you,
I smell you, and feel.
I taste you, and embrace you,
I kiss you, and heal.

You're the plots in my dreams,
And the patterns in my bed.
You're the stitches in my seams,
And the thoughts in my head.

You're everything I want,
And you're everything more.
You're the one I want to flaunt,
And you're the one I adore.

"It's good, but maybe you should write shorter," I was told.
Granted this was told to me by a man that believes the word artistic
to be closely related to the word autistic, but I can only assume that riding any
unfamiliar wavelength is terribly confusing, if not immeasurably difficult.

Knowing that you can confide in yourself, whether or not I'm misinterpreting
individual delegation for conscience, I believe altruism to be fundamental to
a person before growth can occur. Unless of course you're writing short poems.
And if you're curious enough to implement apathy, sarcasm is a fine starting point.

They say that if you want to master something you need to perform daily.
Accompany this with the old adage, "Love what you do," and you can imagine the potential.
Mastering an activity with love is transcendent, calm although sometimes piquant.
Passion and pleasure aren't identical, but imagine the potential.

I don't bleed ink.
It has to be an attempt at benevolence, to say that.
Extreme literary pretensions you must have to bleed out.
Writing should have a pulse. It. Should. Make. Each. Word. Count.

Yet, when this man told me that my words are good, but I should keep it shorter,
knowing not if I could or would, I became curious as to why he worried more about
length and not the content and story as a whole. Then I had to rationalize this to myself, and thought: It would be easier to convey words with images, like a film or animation.

But I don't bleed ink,
and I guess I don't bleed popcorn.

I just have to remember what I told myself~
Relationships are like glass. They break into a million pieces, seemingly unrecoverable. But if you collect them all together, with just the right amount of heat and love, you can watch it all melt back together, into a new piece of glass.

New to the eye, yet the feeling will never fade.

Nice shoes,
Big smile,
Something expensive,
We are all fake.