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  Apr 2014 Emma
Jacqueline Flores
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
Emma Apr 2014
Dear love,

D o  y o u  n o t  k n o w ?

Flowers bloom at your smile
Your eyes are the sun that makes them grow
Your freckles, the seeds planted to replenish them
Do  you  not  know  ?

Your hair falls like the rain
Gently lulling the earth to sleep
Your fingers hold your pencil
As an artist holds his stencils
With grace and posture

Do  you  not  know  ?
Your feet dance on the ground
As a ballerina's final leap
With elegance and composer
Your eyelashes flutter
As a dazzling bird ***** its wings
Leaving the world in awe

Do you not know
You do the same to me?
To my dear friend Tasha. Your inner and outer beauty mystifies me.
  Apr 2014 Emma
Julia
I grow weary of increasingly less
complex humans approaching me
in halls & wanting nothing more
than to see me naked in their bed
& when I say
no
no
no,
how about we talk about why
people die or the shape of
the wind
,
they get


                  blown

                                 ­                   away

in
it
  Apr 2014 Emma
irinia
After it blossomed,
The flower said,
"Now, my beauty is beyond my control.
Now, even I am beyond my reach."



Ahmad Nadeem Qasimi, Selected Poems, The Pakistan Academy of Letters, Islamabad 1995
And the day came
When the risk it took
To remain tight and closed in the bud
Was more painful
Than the risk it took bloom

This is the element of freedom

Alicia Keys
  Apr 2014 Emma
JK Cabresos
I love my poetry
more than rivers
beneath the moonlight,
more than whispers
of the cold wind,
a kiss on my skin.

If I fall, we collide
in each other's arms
so romantic,
so beautiful,
so lovely,
with my poetry.

My inspiration,
my contentment,
my life,
my everything.

I love my poetry
for a thousand ages,
even time comes
I could no longer fathom
the pain in my heart
from burning bridges.

I love my poetry,
you are my poetry.
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