The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

i'm a fruit dressed
in a shell so callous and thick
so hard yet vulnerable
when i fall
i, too will easily break.

i'm a fruit so sweet
no one can taste
so fierce no one can touch
and so soft that everyone
dies to hug.

i'm a fruit ripened
through time of this orb
i go out in spring,
die in winter
i dance with trees,
until i turn splinter.

i'm a fruit sugary
in platonic disguise
so yellow and seraphic
smells like daisy
sticky as honey.

i'm a fruit unkind
no one knows what am i
how poisonous am i
until you taste the lie.

Has it been that long?
Since your gray eyes first met mine?
Since I first saw your smile?
Since I first heard your laugh?
Since I felt your hair brush against my face?
Since I heard beautiful words come out of your mouth?
Since I watched them fall onto paper?
Since I last looked into your eyes?
Since I last touched your hand?
Since I last heard your voice?
Since I last saw your face?
Has it really been that long?

She lives the poetry she cannot write
Not her words,
A life that became hers.
She has written fiction,
Dreams and speculations;
Until all turned into a tale
She did not long to put on paper.

She writes the poetry she cannot live
Her words,
Gives life when it is not hers.
She has had desires,
Loss and tantrums;
Turned nightmares into tales
On any piece of paper.

She lives the poetry she cannot write
Not her words,
A love that finally became hers.
She has written fiction,
Heartache and expectations;
That embrace in her coffee place
He took away her pen.

What if
          I
                                                  ­Fall
In
              Love
With
      A
       Poet?
What if he mesmerises me
       With his lines?
What if
        His words touch me
        And kiss
           Through my skin?
     What if i search for
Him
Everyday
And
      Travel through
              His words
    And meet him
                  Somewhere
       And
We
       Become bare
          And he caresses
Me
          With every
      Stanza
And
       Here
           I am
                Again
Searching
           For him,
    Wanting
Him
        With
                 All
                      Desire
Waiting
             For
                 His
                   Next
                      Poem
                         To
                            Take
                             ­ Me
                          To
                       His
                   World
                Where
             We
          Will
        Lay
      Bare
   What if
               I
                  Fall in love
                      With
                  A
             ­         Poet?

© Evna-Luna