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Turn it back to a time
when you didn’t know what day it was
and still called me pretty.

Turn it back to a time
when we talked all night
and comforted each other.

Turn it back to a time
when I smiled
because of you.

Turn it back to a time
when I wrote long letters
to say I cared.

Turn it back to a time
when I didn’t send that out of anger
because I was left…

Turn it back to a time
when I didn’t say
that I didn’t want to be friends anymore.

Turn it back to a time
when I could walk into a room
and wouldn’t tremble at the sight of you.

Turn it back to a time
when I didn’t have to get info
about you from someone else.

Turn it back to a time
when I still saw you
everyday.

Turn it back to a time
when I still talked to you
everyday.

Turn it back to a time
when we had some trust
in each other.

Turn it back to a time
when I didn’t have to write things
to temporarily forget you.

If only I could turn back time.
Don’t we all wish that we could turn back time sometimes? (By the way, broken clocks is my fav song by SZA)
I read my past poems
and think to myself
how childish I was
to write about someone
I thought mattered.

I read my past poems
and think to myself
how was I proud of this work?

I read my past poems
and think to myself
how much has changed.

I read my past poems
and I think to myself
the person I wrote about before
has changed
into you.

I read my past poems
and think to myself
is that what’s going to happen to us?

I read my past poems
and think to myself
are you worth starting over?

I read my past poems
and think to myself
that this is all a waste of my time
but I do it for you anyway.
Hahaha if you haven’t picked it up by now, this poem was inspired by my past poems. I hope you all enjoy it.
I would rather type your name
than write it.

Erasing it doesn't take make it disappear completely.
your name with the pencil that's only slightly faded,
pen or marker that's scratched
underneath it all,
your name still sticks.

Typing your name
I press delete and it's gone.
a tap of the backspace and it's gone.

If I had to be completely honest
typed or written
is your name
really gone?
I just read this poem called poetry and it just struck me at the moment I read it. This poem just came together as soon as I read it.
Well when you're Green, I will be your Brown.
Like the earth that loves the flowers,
I'll will be your solid ground.

And I'll be your Azure, when you are Verdigris.
We'll be thee most beautiful ocean
that eyes have ever seen.

And when you're Black, I'll be your White.
Mixing all of the colors … I'll make everything alright.

Now when you're Blue, I'll be your Red.
If something should make you wanna cry,
I will feel your pain instead.

And I'll be your Orange, whenever you are Pink.
We'll be thee most amazing sunset,
that the sky could ever ink.

And when you're Black, I'll be your White.
I'll mix all of your colors … and make everything alright.

Should you be Violet, I will be your Beige.
Like a sleepy moonlit desert,
pastelled in dunes and Sage.

And when you're Gray, I will be your Rainbow.
We'll be thee most soothing rainstorm
the world has ever known.

And when you're Black, I'll be your White.
I'll mix all of your colors … yes, I'll make everything alright.

With love on my palette, painting a glorious sunrise …
I'll color all your mornings with a smile and brighten up your skies.
If you should find yourself in sorrow from someones hate or lies …
I'll take the stars down from the heavens … and paint them in your eyes.

So whenever you are Black, I will always be your White.
I'll mix all your colors with a promise … everything will be alright.

Yes, I'll mix all of your colors with a promise …
Everything's gonna be alright.
I was looking through some swatches of color gel samples, picking new colors for my lighting rig at Highline Ballroom. A dear, dear friend of mine called me up feeling frustrated about her life at that moment. She is a proud and brave girl. So, she didn't call just crying and whining. But as the conversation progressed, I could feel her tension ... her frustration ... even her sadness. I felt really bad for her and wished that I could make all her problems go away and help her achieve her lofty goals a little more quickly.

I did the best that I could to console her without sounding as such ... remember, she is a really proud person. I reminded her of how brave and strong I knew she was and told her that she just needed to keep pushing on and that she would see it all through eventually, it just takes time.

After we'd hung up, I was up on my roof, yelling silent profanity's and threats at the Manhattan skyline (as I often did), and I guess all the colors mixed up in my head with her call and how badly I wanted to make things good for her because she meant so much to me. I hated to think she was suffering in any way.

This poem started coming to me and I raced downstairs to drop it on my computer. When I read it over, I couldn't help but notice it was in the form of a song. The repeated verse a chorus and the last verse, a bridge. But ... I have never, ever heard a tune, melody or any kind of music for it.

Also, I had to notice the romance laced through it. That wasn't my intention, she was my dear, dear friend. So, I wasn't even sure I'd truly written it for her. With that in mind, I've never shown it to her.
  Apr 2018 those bygone years
JL Smith
Today was your birthday
I didn't forget
Your first in four years without me
How was it spent?

Maybe that's why
You've crept back into my mind
Our birthdays, so close
The only part of us intertwined

I don't think of you as often
I guess that's how I know
I'm moving on
And I'm letting go

As much as I hurt
And as much as I learned
As much as I hated
My heart remains concerned

In time, I'll forgive
But for now, I'll heal
Happy birthday to you
A heart I once could feel

© JL Smith
drip,
drap,
drop.

Falling from the sky
and unwanted from their owner
the cloud.

drip,
drap,
drop.

Left wondering why they were released
and the cloud never telling them
why.

drip,
drap,
drop.

Screaming as they hit the ground,
scared to disappear from existence.
Pounding the new world around them
so people around them
hear their cry for help.

drip,
drap,
drop.

The clouds cry on
for they have lost
a part of themselves forever.

drip,
drap,
drop.

Only thing left
in the hollows of their hearts is

regret.
shame.
guilt.

drip,
drap,
drop.

regret.
shame.
guil­t.
This just came to my head with all the rain I've been getting recently. I'm not down or anything, I was just listening to the sounds the raindrops were making on my umbrella. Doesn't the sound of raindrops falling sound satisfying sometimes? The pitter patter just sounds so satisfying on umbrellas. Anyways, thanks for reading!
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