when people ask me 'what type of poetry do you like?'
i tell them that i like real poetry
not fake meaningless poetry with technical words that i don't even know.
i tell them poetry has to have EMOTION
and it doesn't have to make sense.
it doesn't have to rhyme, either.
poetry should be raw. it should be written when you don't think you have anything to write about
like that time you were lying in bed and thought of a single word planted onto paper to create a whole stanza, and then five stanzas.
find poetry in music. in the low guitar riffs and the drum beat. find it in the lyrics and the vocals. find words in trees. in lights. in a bottle of nail polish. in your first love and your last laugh.
find poetry when you fall and a stranger helps you up. find it in a busker at the train station. find it when you give that busker some money and find it when you see that the busker appreciates you. find poetry in poetry.

i miss your warmth when our bodies were pressed together
i miss how you smelled of raspberries and sugar
and your warm breath on my neck.
i miss sunny days lying on the grass and making shapes out of clouds
and i miss your clumsy hands intertwined in mine.
i miss your sleepy smile in the mornings
but the thing i miss most of all
is the sweet taste of your lips against mine.

we stood
on the edge of a steep cliff
and we fell together
falling
in and out of love
you grabbed my hand
and said you'd never let go
you lied
and i hit rock bottom.

once
i fell in love with a boy
who never understood
how i loved music
and how i always loved
to draw flowers
on the backs of my hands
but i still loved him
even though he didn't love me back
he left me hanging
and i was chained to my pain
and there was no running.

the type of girl who would stare at him from across the room just wishing he would say something
the type of boy who never smiled around anyone but her
the type of girl who would fall asleep whispering her secrets to nobody
the type of boy who kept poetry books under his bed
the type of girl who would fall asleep whispering her secrets to nobody
the type of boy who would give up everything for love
the type of girl who would sit for hours writing poetry while sipping coffee on a cold sunday morning
the type of girl who would write endless poems about him
the type of boy who would make all her pain go away and all the sadness in the world to disappear