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 Jul 2020 trixia ella marie
LS
when a poet falls in love with you
you can never die
they will notice the way
you rub your palms and look down
when someone is angry at you
and the way you smirk
as you pull away from a kiss

they will notice how you can't sleep
without your body touching someone else's
how you never crease any pages of books
and how you close your eyes when you dance in your kitchen
with your record player on

they will find all of the words
that they see you as
and turn them into something beautiful

people say you die twice
once when you stop breathing
and when someone says your name
for the last time

if you fall in love with a poet
they will never stop
mentioning your name
you will be alive
for eternity
And if you are to love,
Love as the moon loves.
It doesn't steal the night,
It only unveils the beauty of the dark.

And if you are to love,
Love as the rain loves.
It doesn't wet the bodies,
It only washes the sad dirt of the souls.

And if you are to love,
Love as the wind loves.
It doesn't drift away,
It only cleanse you to the core by invading through each pore.

And if you are to love,
Love as the sun loves.
It doesn't radiates heat,
It only pours its warmth on you to enlighten your way.

And if you are to love,
Love as the star loves.
It doesn't delightfully twinkles,
It only reminds you that not even death can separate two hearts.

And so forth,
if you are to love
Love as the whole universe
& not just a part of it.
there’s
something
comforting
about
the
vacancy
in
­my
heart
 Jan 2018 trixia ella marie
V
It is truly a devastating thing to know that the sun rises every morning,
Only to wake up each time to see it set.
I am fighting suicidal thoughts daily.
Lately, nothing seems to help.
Not people, friends, professional help, medicines...
Or the relase found in poetry.

I haven't left the house (or even my bed really) for months.
I see no point.

Yet, still I write.
we learned the same words but
not the same language

we sing the same notes but
not the same song

we walk the same road but
not the same paths

we didn't do right but
not the same wrong.
he asked to undress my mind before my body
to know my 4 am thoughts before his fingers traced my hidden skin
he touches me across oceans; drowns himself in all of my layers
whispers that he wants to visit all of the worlds inside of me
slowly, for he knows the wounds are still healing
but he kisses all of your scars
and I hardly think of you at all
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