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There's something about your smile that frightened me,
all of the sudden the butterflies I've long since released -came back,
but not in the same way, this time, they weren't fighting;
they seemed as if to be fluttering around comfortably.

Your laughter is subtle,
but it was loud enough to scare away most of the shaking in my bones,
loud enough to draw my attention to your face, your eyes;
for a moment we made eye-contact, but I couldn't hold it.

They say the eyes are the gateway to the soul,
I don't trust the gate-keeper,
and so I quickly lock my eyes to the ground.
What would you think if I told you that I, for a millisecond,
thought you were the greatest thing in the world?

I didn't want the night to end,
but the sun will surely rise.
And we are clouds just floating by time after time.
Maybe it's best, you can't lose what lingers,
but I'm thinking of lighting up the sky with you,
thinking of being the wake-up call for the early-birds with you.

What would you say if I told you
I wanted to do nothing, and everything, with you?

(NJ2014)  ©All Rights Reserved
You don't see the things I see
And don't believe me when I say
That you are absolute perfection 
In every single way

Your nervous habits I really love
They're just so cute to me
Such as playing with your hands
And pulling up your sleeves 

The way your lips move when you talk 
And your dimples when you blush
How every time I laughed at you
I got a smile and a "hush"

The way your voice sounds when you're tired
And all those things you say
If I had the opportunity
I'd listen to you ramble all day

I saved the very best for last
My favorite thing about you
When you smile that smile of yours
I just can't help but smile too

These are just a few things though
The perfection runs so deep
I love this boy with all my heart
And he's forever mine to keep
She thinks about me
The way I think about you
The same way you think about him
And the manner in which he thinks of her too

We're all hoping our mind's Prisoner finally turns around
Becoming "enlightened" and releasing us from our self imposed nightmare

Which is why none of us do.
 Sep 2014 Gracie Morgan
violet
PAST
 Sep 2014 Gracie Morgan
violet
I know that it still hurts,
But its better to admit that you're sad,
than to fake a smile everyday of your life
Past is a nice place to visit,
But certainly not a good place to stay
Open your eyes to the ones who loves you for who you are,
give them a chance to show you they worth it
And smile because you can.
 Sep 2014 Gracie Morgan
g
Mythology
 Sep 2014 Gracie Morgan
g
Venus was back to her wicked tricks; I never planned for the way you stole the breath from my lungs, but kept me begging for more. Or what about the beauty in your words? The Goddess of love and beauty could never compare to the way you once made me feel.

I bet Zeus had never thrown a lightening bolt as shocking as the way it felt when you first held my hand. I bet every lover he ever had never quite made him feel as complete as you could make me feel.

But there you were, and like Hephaestus you built me a stable castle for every pulse of my heart. I never felt so safe in such a small room, but now the walls close in and even Vulcan's fire can't match the heat from your embrace.

You were also Mercury, and your quick feet made me trip far faster than I should have. I just wanted to keep up, but our messages must have been left behind and now Cupid's arrows don't quite work like they did when we were young.

I felt like Tantalus when you let the vulture of your mind rip apart my stomach and leave me in sections on the rug. You were the food held just out of my reach and you were the waters I drowned deeper and deeper into, day in and day out.
Said the little boy, "Sometimes I drop my spoon."
Said the old man, "I do that too."
The little boy whispered, "I wet my pants."
"I do that too," laughed the little old man.
Said the little boy, "I often cry."
The old man nodded, "So do I."
"But worst of all," said the boy, "it seems
Grown-ups don't pay attention to me."
And he felt the warmth of a wrinkled old hand.
"I know what you mean," said the little old man.
Once I spoke the language of the flowers,
Once I understood each word the caterpillar said,
Once I smiled in secret at the gossip of the starlings,
And shared a conversation with the housefly
in my bed.
Once I heard and answered all the questions
of the crickets,
And joined the crying of each falling dying
flake of snow,
Once I spoke the language of the flowers. . . .
How did it go?
How did it go?
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