I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)

Eight year old me cries out for me
Fourteen year old me gives me the best bus routes to purposely get lost so i wouldn’t have to go home.
Seventeen year old me stares blankly at the family wall, wishing she did well raising her siblings.
Twenty Two year old me comforts me, singing the lullabies i begged to hear when I was five.
but now; Twenty year old me is begging that she can hold down the fortress just a little longer.

the hand of a lover
caressing your cheek
in a darken room
only to learn
the hand of a lover
caressing your cheek
in a darken room

was only your loneliness
ready to consume.

Growing up and knowing you give me sighs of bliss,
Didn't you say we're Patroclus and Achilles?
That  we are one soul abiding in two bodies,
Just for you, my best friend, I will make a promise.

You said that if Patroclus' fate's same with mine,
You'll try to make Achilles' fate same with thine
Our corpse lying next to each other would be sign,
Of a true, intimate friendship that is sublime.

Bringing those memories we made in Macedon,
The celebrations of battles we've always won,
I never lost, because I'm with you, Hephaestion,
My only defeat's when I lost you and you're gone.

I am just a general, and you are a king,
We have this love, but this love can do us nothing,
Love is not all that both of us will be needing,
You need an heir, we need wives we'll be marrying.

But even though now I have an heir and a wife,
It would be still you and me in the afterlife,
Even if it means I will be stabbed by a knife,
I'd love you, even this kind of love is not rife.

But even if we died and left this world early,
In separate deathbeds, we made love intimately,
Even if I made my last hurrah without thee,
You kept that promise, that nobody promised me.

I always thought Romeo and Juliet were overrated
What kind of lover would die for the other
The gullible beautiful girl to fall
for such a mesmerizing ****?
My breath was not held when Shakespeare wrote
“ O happy dagger, / This is thy sheath “
For what kind of woman who would **** her self over a man

I was raised to know my worth,
to **** every inch of self respect up
I would not die for any lover
and live only for myself

I always thought Romeo and Juliet were overrated
until I had met a lover
my heart soars with sonnets
my lips speak love letters
I would have gladly swept her from any harm
the only mesmerizing **** was my vile tongue
convincing me love was not a shakespearean play

Oh Ophelia,
My Sweet, Ophelia
She who tastes like huckleberries
and smells like wild cherries.

Oh Ophelia,
My Sweet, Ophelia
She who loves to bathe in the lagoon
and dry in the mid sun afternoon.

Oh Ophelia
My Sweet, Ophelia
She who could not bear her fathers death
and took her last breath.

Oh Ophelia
My Sweet Ophelia
She who drowned in her lagoon
and the earth shall never hear her tune.

Oh Ophelia
My Sweet Ophelia
She who loved deep
and now she is asleep.

Oh Ophelia
My Tragic, Ophelia.
She who is incapable of her own distress
and I, must confess.

Oh Ophelia
You, are Tragedy.