V:** C'est la vie.

A: Vous croyez? Pourquoi?

V: Ma vie n'est pas belle.

A: Ouais? Je ne pense pas que moi-même. Vous êtes très belle, intelligente, et génial! Je t'aime beaucoup.

V: Oui, je le suis. Mais ma vie n'est pas. Vous voyez?

A: Je ne sais pas. Vous pensez trop petit de vous-même. Vous devez sourire.

V: Je pense que vous pensez trop haute opinion de moi.

V: Je t'aime.

A: Je t'aime aussi.

Wasted father other
twisted ******* brother
suffer further under
cover crusher mother

patient silent action
stagnant talent tangent
casket habit magnet
vibrant fragment fraction

soulless sister seller
better error dealer
shelter peddler killer
vendor trader dweller

(This is a new style I am working on. I am going to call it a 2-3-4 poem since it must have three, two syllable words in each line, and four lines per stanza. Also, the first and last line of each stanza must end in a rhyme.)

minds and mentalities
corrupted and broken
from the noxious words
and infectious actions

by the repercussion and influence
of the people we once knew

who's hardened brains perished
and withered away

who's guarded hearts mutilated
and commutated

who's perspective reciprocated
and influenced predominantly
by fallacious things

how will we,
when will we
restore our youth?

m.p.

i had a dream about you
you told me not to love you
Like a kick in my liver
it welled in my throat but i let you have your way

We spent weeks laying in bed,
Staring into each other's eyes
And fingers intertwined.

The moon and sun chased each other
Over my house.
Sunlight slowly turned into moonlight
And then back to sunlight.

We softly whispered our secrets
And let out everything that made out hearts ache.

Your long, dark eyelashes
Were beautiful to me.
Your brown eyes had flecks
Of warm gold.

Your nose was a ski *****
And I loved to run my finger down it.
Your sharp cheekbones
Were the most interesting at three in the afternoon.

That was when the sun would
Perfectly hit your face
And make the most pretty shadows on your face.

My favorite bit about you
Will always be your lips.
The words tumbled out
Slowly and garbled
After you first woke up.

Yet when you said my name
...
Well I can't really describe it.
My name on your lips
Was my absolute favorite sound in the world.

Well, darling you have been gone for so long.
You left me and the beautiful earth.
I still listen to our records
And watch our favorite movies.

But it is alright
Because tonight I'll see you in my dreams.
As you always said,
"Even if we are apart, we'll still have each other in our dreams."

Agony of the fantasy, so lazily, with no probability
the ecstasy so randomly seen with eyes of atrophy
my heart beats so rapidly for the sake of catastrophe
so i gallantly step on the travesty of the compatibility

i casually see my casualty through eyes of calamity
searching so actively for a canopy of rationality
my mind thinks abnormality is better than conformity
actuality meets versatility or circumstantial amity

thinking elaborately not organically, of reality
a tapestry so naturally put together differently
visually vivid quality is a visible consistency
no commonality,  critically crushed by normality

(you are sixteen years old and
you are not afraid to die.)

you find it hard to breathe and see and touch,
(but you are not afraid.)

you have never fallen in love,
and never held anyone,
and never been loved,
(but you are not afraid.)

but then
one day you see the sun
and it hurts to look at him,
but you want to touch him
and love him and be loved
(and you are very, very afraid.)