Dear Heart:
i know you think you’ve been broken, but you are still beating. my sweet Heart, you must know stepping outside your character will never be necessary for you to have what you desire? I have followed your direction blindly, but its time for you to be put you back in your place. I promise I will take much better care of you in the future, never again will i let you break. I will find you a better Love. even if it means i must bury you in my dreams, commit you to my career,  pour you into my art… even if it means that you may never love another person other than the one you are connected to. i will search all the stars, moons, mountains and seas for for you, my sweet Heart. i will find it.  This is my promise to you. sincerely, Your Mind

As a teenager who writes poetry
I get some weird reactions
I’m sure some people who hear I write poetry think
Oh my god, another teenager writing angsty poems
Then they read my poetry and think otherwise
How can I not write of the beauty and sunshine of life?
Of love?
Of happiness?
Like everyone I have down days
But those pass in due time
My dark poetry can’t last long
Not in my mind

When the fragile music dies
you put away your voice,
and with the passion
          of Campion’s songs
still running in our veins
there is another duet,
and so intense its harmony
that only the need for food
brings it to a ritardando.
 
In the dark kitchen
I cut the crusts from brown bread,
making sandwiches, cream-cheesed,
the sliced cucumus sativus
flecked with mint and cress,
and placed on blue plates,
surrounded by olives, grapes
- an apricot apiece.
 
Then for the coda:
(in the bluest of blue bowls)
musk strawberries lounging
on a bed of rubus idaeus.
 
We troop upstairs
with our matching plates,
and I lay the Welsh-woolled rug
on the studio floor.
We place beside them
heavy glasses of mint and honeyed tea,
and eat immediately, hungrily.
 
Later, still aflame
from such music and its crystalled verse,
we lie amidst the studio tea
making sure we are not fiction, but wholly real.
You say, ‘Perhaps raspberry is the new fig’.
and place this fruit between my lips.

Winter is the time for snow,
Wind, hail, and blow!

**~Marian~

Yesternight, I drank much ***.
Suffice to say, it was much fun.
But today I pay the awful price,
Of a dented wallet, and swollen eyes.