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i like the smell of paper
i like the feel of ink
i like the formation of words
that show what i am thinking
my first poem was born
in 1996
when i was just a kid
i liked the smell of paper
i fell in love with it
What's done,
          been done.
              What happened,
                         has happened
                               What you do,
                                       is up to you.
Is having freedom,
Doing what you like,
Going where you want.
Every freedom has a price to pay ,
Sometimes loneliness.
7/7/2022
i cannot comprehend this
what makes sense is senseless
this senselessness is endless
so in the end i comprehend
enough to play pretend
but common sense tells me
that wars create sores
that are more or less forever
i cannot comprehend this letter
so i better carry on with this
senselessness which is endless
unless perhaps i end this my self
wars create sores
for once i would like someone
to love me just as much as i love them
for once i would like someone to be all in
what is it like to be chased?
instead of forever chasing
what is it like to be someone's everything?
for once i would like someone
to have a heart as full as mine
for once i want to be on someone's mind
for once i want the path to run both ways
always,
i am the one who loves
from an empty hallway
with nothing to say
besides love me,
love me
love me
love me,
back.
i am the one who loves from an empty hallway
at first glance you looked perfect
now i know you are not
but who the f*ck,
is perfect?
we've all got history we're ashamed of

so let's both be imperfect
imperfectly in love
because even with your flaws
for me,
you are enough

you can judge me on my past
if you want
but i'm making a better future
because the future's all i've got

so you can crucify me
for my past mistakes
or have the grace,
to give me room to change.
the future's all i've got
i am perfect at being imperfect
not so perfect at accepting it
i am perfect at being worth it
not so perfect at embracing it
perhaps there are imperfections in perfection
perhaps my perfection is a transaction
in self compassion
perhaps my perfection is a transaction
pick a side
pick a side
pick a side

like sports teams
like equations
like war

pick a label
pick a gender
pick an orientation

what the hell
do we need sides for?

i'm on the side of acceptance
i'm on the side of love
i'm on the side of no sides

maybe one day that will be enough
she told me to pick a side
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