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 Jan 2014 authentic
Emma Livry
Temptation came in sliding on his knees asking, “Will you dance with me?”

He didn't say “hello”, or “wow it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”. Just a simple question. He stayed on his knees waiting for an answer, but he didn’t get one quickly. After I stumbled on my words for what seemed like forever, I finally managed a yes.

The band just finished playing. The owners turned on a CD for people to waltz to, and the floor was already crowded with smiling couples and stumbling beginners.

“You are going to lead me the whole time, okay?” I asked him, but it was more of a demand. I remembered talking to him about this place and I knew he came here a lot. We had never danced together, but I had always wanted to dance with him.

“Do you even know how to waltz?” he asked.

“I do ballet. Of course I know how to waltz.” I managed to say with more confidence than I knew I had. The memories from last summer were unfurling inside my brain and I thought I was about to explode. I didn’t think I could manage another word but I surprise myself by asking how he was.

“Oh, I’m pretty good. I ship out in June. You can’t believe how much I want to leave this place,” he said. I tried looking into his eyes, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. He was holding his gaze directly on me, but when I tried looking into his eyes, I had to look away. After all this time, I forgot their color. He then said, “Loosen up, darling. You’re so tense.” he flipped our arms around and twirled me quite a bit and I was getting lost, but he is a very good leader. He was holding my hands firmly, yet it was still gentle and we ended up with our hands over our heads. “Bend backwards,” he instructed, so I did. He lowered me down into a dip and I finally looked directly into his eyes. How could I forget that they are exactly the same color as mine?

Our faces were only but three inches apart; about a year ago, we were at a place where those three inches wouldn’t even exist. He lingered there for only a second more before I broke our gaze and he decided to briskly raise me back up and continue the waltz.

“You are really tense; loosen up,” he said again. It made sense, I have a habit of holding my breath when faced with temptation, but he just continued smiling at me.

“Sorry, I’m used to holding myself all the time.”

He just looked around the room and then dipped me again and whispered in my ear, “I’ll hold you.”

I wanted to hit him. Did he forget what happened last summer? Because I did not. I flashed back to where we were. Sitting on the rocks next to the creek that leads into the larger river. He was playing his guitar and singing me the song he wrote for me. It was cliché, but at the time it was a sweet gesture. His voice was always angelic to me. From the first time I heard him sing until the last time, which ended up being this day.

When he finished singing the song, I couldn't find any words to say. I just sat there and then he leaned over and kissed me. This wasn't the first time he kissed me, but it was different from the first time. The first time was at church and was really short. This kiss was, well, not short at all.

He brought me back up to standing and whisked me across the floor. He kept leading me and twirling me and switching our arms around. The waltz still continued and so did our conversation. I looked up at him occasionally and he was still looking at me. Throughout the dance, we drifted closer and closer together. I didn't notice when it was happening, but in this moment I realized that there was almost no space between us.

“You know, I bet my boyfriend’s pretty mad,” I said. I looked over at him. He was sitting on a bench glaring in my general direction, so I turned around abruptly and then my dance partner got a peek at him.

He laughed at the fact that he was glaring at us and then leaned in even closer to tell me something through his smile, “My girlfriend is watching too, but them watching us just makes it more fun.”
I’d like a man who appreciates me.
Say “Hi beautiful!” every morning,
And bring me coffee and croissants,
As we watch the new day dawning.

I’d like a man who has a high powered job.
His office window an amazing view,
His grandparents own a seaside chalet
He says he’ll take me to.

I’d like a man with an amazing body,
But he would not know that.
He’d garden with his shirt off – hanging up -
While wearing a cowboy hat.

I’d like a man who liked my friends,
And charmed them all with smiles.
And tell them how, with his arm round mine,
We dance on kitchen tiles.

I’d like a man who understood,
One does not rev his car.
He’ll take me sailing in the summer ,
No bounds to say how far.

He’s go to be able to fly as well.
 Jan 2014 authentic
Brian N Brown
Forbiden love always seems to be most attractive
So the love meant to be in question is never answered.
The will to do anything is free,
But hearts don't break peacefully.
We've all payed the toll in exchange for rights of passage
Bittersweet memories in valentine packages
Possessive words put together, in an orderly fashion.
Though I wish I could tell the truth,
A lie doesn't comfort me,
It just keeps me close and so far away from you.
 Jan 2014 authentic
Driven
It was your eyes
Shining in the moonlight
Drawing me in close
My lips came to yours
By then I went too far
The poison of your kiss
Left me there helpless
My fingers tingled as I lay
Trying to reach for one last touch
Darkness began to close in
I laid there in bittersweet bliss
It was death from your kiss.
 Jan 2014 authentic
Kassi
Love isn't always a lighting bolt.
Maybe sometimes it's just a choice.

I don't know if he is the love of my life
But I've decided to give him the chance to be.
Maybe true love is a decision.
You know the decision to take a chance with somebody.
To give to somebody without worry
Whether they will give anything back or hurt you or if they really are the one.

Maybe love isn't something that happens to you; maybe it's something you have to choose.
 Jan 2014 authentic
bc
One
I hate myself.
Two
I'm scared to sleep at night because whenever I close my eyes it's as if the ruthless words of hatred and disgust that you throw at me relentlessly replay over and over in my head as if it was a broken record perched on the top of a dusty shelf that isn't within a reachable distance.
Three*
I don't know who I am anymore. I lost her somewhere within this sea of sadness I plunged myself into.
Four
Fat, Ugly, Worthless. Fat, Ugly, Worthless. Fat, Ugly, Worthless.* These are the words that taunt me everyday and latch onto me like a bloodthirsty leech that just found a new piece of flesh to feed off of.
Five
Whenever somebody tells me to be who I am and that they won't judge. I laugh. I laugh because being who I am is just a distant memory. I cant be who I am because I lost when I skipped my first meal. I lost who I was when I learned what it felt like to genuinely hate myself. I lost myself when I learned how to numb myself so that I feel nothing at all. Now here I am in present time, curled up in a ball of my own self pity, crying out all the feelings I wish I had.
Six
Somedays, I wish I could find the me that loves me, but I can't because the horrid words that you uttered to me stabbed her over and over again relentlessly and when you finally walked away, she stood there bleeding out all the love and trust she used to have.
Seven
I hate telling people how I really feel because they take it as a yearning for attention, not a cry for help. I hate telling people how I feel because they would treat me as if I was a problem and not a human.
Eight
I just wish that someone would paint on me as if I were a blank canvas and turn me into something magnificent because I am tired of continuously painting
myself in hopes that my tear-stained cheeks, lifeless eyes, and pain will turn me into the beautiful girl society expects me to be.
Nine
I just wish I was normal.

-b.c.
First poem I published on here, I hope you like it. -b.c.
 Jan 2014 authentic
Alex
Don't ask me what it means to love someone. As I can tell you from experience, I throw the word "love" away like they were colorful strings of beads at a Mardigras Parade, abundant and seductive but no one throws them back.

Love is a feeling I have always understood as something that is omnipresent. Not once did I believe in money making the world go round, but I believed it was love that propelled us all to keep moving forward, keep the earth dancing in awkward circles. We love the sun so much we spin around it. It loves us back enough to embrace us in it's gravity and keep us from spiraling into the deep abyss of space, from colliding with other heavenly bodies. I think the Earth fell in love with the fickle moon a long time ago that I refused to let it go. Their mutual love for each other keeps the tides turning, making the oceans weep when time comes when the moon has to disappear for a while. Once upon a time the sun fell in love with the moon that day after day He chases after Her, knowing he will never be able to catch her. Love is why, in beautiful and nostalgic synchronization with the earth, we crane our necks in tandem with the ground beneath our feet in order to drink in the sparkling stars, the languorous nebulae, endless skies.

For years there has been a struggle to find this elusive creature, this champion's prize of life. This is my lost treasure, the rare blue butterfly. I try my very hardest to capture it and keep it in my hands but love is a viscous creature that bites and scratches, fickle and changes its mind. It grows tired and weary, the firefly that flickers in and out of light. The journey towards it is plagued with dangers: false prophets that guide you in cruel misdirection, the twisted forms of evil that mimic the drug, the broken hearts that litter the road and the miles of distance you have to walk until your tired feet bring you to where you and he will meet.

I beg you, do not ask me to define love! I am the one who does not know what it is because I recognize it all too well and fall in love four times each morning and six times each evening. I fall in love with the world in the quiet of that space between sleep and waking, the moment that blurs on the border between the darkest hour of night and the first light of dawn. I fall in love with the green spirit of mother nature in the rustling of trees, the complex patterns in the colors of flowers and at the same time, I fall in love with ugly urban cities-- love it for all it's decrepit, urban decay. I love it's slow deterioration.

I love people, too. I love the boy in the coffee shop corner with his nose buried in a book. I love the mother when she calls her child that nickname only they share. I love it when people are kind and loving, and sweet and caring. I love it when I see their faces when they realize that they are a whole part of something bigger, a cog in the machine that is the world. I love then when they are sad or hurt in my smiles and warm hugs, just to make them feel less lonely when they are. I love them when they need a little bit of a reprieve from the hopelessness that pervades the very air we breath. I love them at their best and at their worst for people are just melancholic souls, restless feet and sentimental hearts that beat in unison with the cars that honk, the bass that plays and the atoms that give life and energy.

Is that not what love is? Is it not supposed to be kind? Is it not supposed to go above and beyond the ordinary, the boring and go borderline insane? It should be maddened with lust and passion, fueled by hope and everlasting desire. Should it not be allowed to be happy when it is and morose when it needs to? Lovers should understand that love is never constant but that lovers should, like vines that intertwine, hold fast and have an impending and irrefutable fear of losing and letting go.

Do not ask me what is love because I know its many faces and its many forms. Do not ask me about love because each one is different, and each one is uniquely yours.
Not a poem, but an essay! hooray!
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