I will tell you when you're wrong.
I have no problem calling you out on your mistakes
because we both know you're better than that.

I will tell you when I'm wrong as well.
I can put away my pride and admit defeat
because there are things that matter more to me.

I will tell you my thoughts.
I can share all my ideas on the secrets of the universe
because I know you're the only one who understands them.

I will tell you my dreams.
I want you to know every little thing that makes my heart race
in hopes that maybe I'll find

it makes your race as well.

I will tell you of my past.
I will take you by the hand and show you every corner
just so you can hold me when the memories become

too much to bear.

I will tell you my fears.
I will whisper of them all night as we drink our wine
and I will shake at each syllable, but I won't stop.

I will tell you my secrets.
I have so many thoughts inside this wounded mind
that I can't always conjure into words -

but I'll try my best to share them with you,
if you want me to.

I will tell you anything you wish to know
but darling, you must understand -
there are three little words
that I just
can't
tell you.

i.

you are the land
unrelenting and wild
pure instinct and jagged claws
you are free

ii.

you are a hunter
born to lead
and born to die
you will rise again

iii.

you are a goddess
beautiful and strong
proud and unashamed
you are fearless

iv.

you are a typhoon
wild and unapologetic
a beautiful disaster
you are destruction

v.

you are a volcano
spitting hellfire and curses
sharp claws and unabashed ferocity
you will burn

vi.

you are the current
running through our veins
deadly and alluring
you are death

Misty breeze
Hair speaks tongues
Crimson gold
Soaked soulful dandelions
Nature lives beauty* !!

Poetry is surely the finest wine
Its words most lavish *****
You get drunk with every line
By the end all sense you lose!

There’s no wine to cast more spell
Whiskey ***** gin or ***
So long in it your thoughts dwell
Soul suffers blessed delirium!

Ecstatic is the poetry’s fizz
The froth at the mouth of nib
Gushing out of passion unleashed
The kick with each falling drip!

Poetry is among the best antidotes
When I crave a drink or two
I inject its overwhelming shots
Pains melt to moistened dew!

He just dreams craves to be nothing
soars he never on ambition’s wing
a win for him is not even worth
he’s happy to be a loser from birth!

He talked so little they thought him shy
the teachers caught him looking at sky
never won a reward or a good grade
but you know of loss he isn’t afraid!

A good job wasn't meant to be his
a girl to love him lend him a kiss
the one he took fancy soon took flight
found another guy winner and bright!

He doesn’t regret not having a fat purse
his lack of aim and mediocrity’s curse
he would rather give away the game
retrieve from dust a windblown poem!

They call him a loser a defeatist a flop
a toddler lifelong while others gallop
he is contented with his chosen pace
happy to look around not run the race!