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 Jan 2018 Jean Lin
Joy Onyango
 Jan 2018 Jean Lin
Joy Onyango
you are an artist.
you like to paint
                             smiles on your face to conceal the pain
you like to draw
                              laughs out of the hollow pit of your chest
you like to colour
                              your wrists red and taste the life flowing out of you
                              as if it would quench the thirst created
                              by the loss of someone that you knew
you are an artist
                             you love to create
 Jan 2018 Jean Lin
i am taking a plane tomorrow
i will be 1,178.6 miles away from you and i hope i will feel safer
knowing exactly how far away we are from each other helps me to breathe a little easier
my mind is constantly focused on 212 and 222 and november 8th and 2015
i am hoping that new mileage will clear up some space
i am sorry for what happens next, "love"
this distance was a death sentence
Where would a student go?
If there was no education
The predicament would not be pretty
Nothing but pure frustration
The doors will be closed
And opportunity passes you by
One cannot function accordingly
Darkness follows that person endlessly
 Nov 2017 Jean Lin
Dess Ander
 Nov 2017 Jean Lin
Dess Ander
The wine I'm drinking isn't strong enough
To dissolve the bitter taste you left in my mouth
No amount of liquor I consume
Could ever be as intoxicating as you
Then as I lie alone in bed
With tears as my only company
I try to hate the fact that I loved you
The fabric conditioner I use
Has long since erased your cologne
And I'm grateful of that, I think.

The wine I'm drinking isn't strong enough
To dissolve the bitter taste you left in my mouth
But I still have another bottle.
 Nov 2017 Jean Lin
Pencil Poet
For each, there's someone somewhere,?
Their crossing is rare.
?You feel our bond is unique?
?For once, fate has just been fair.
A little not to Kiri Petro Sino*      

Some phantasms are like my lovers
Neither faithful nor trustworthy
My memories of them is slippery
Not kind, but phantasms
This left a bad taste in my mouth
Sad as it might seem:   I do not sympathize

Not all phantasms were my lovers
I think of them on bad days,
Some are losers, wearing the badge of shame
Not publicize, but hidden like a crouching tiger with it hidden sword:
They hid behind the skirt of their new loves:  griping,

They defeats and their regrets in life shows in their everyday life

Forgiveness is an act of self-love and respect.
- don Miguel Ruiz

My kind of forgiveness might be an emotion
Its turning that page of my life:
Without reading the Contents to the end smoothed me

Some of my phantasms are my everyday peers
  I think of them as lost poets without words
deep with their thoughts: individuals who are
afraid to express themselves to the fullest.
 Oct 2017 Jean Lin
It seemed like our eyes only met by chance
but when you smiled and asked me to dance
I've never believed in love at first glance
but something about you had me entranced
and we moved all night to the beating of my heart
and I guess that's where I felt the first spark

I suppose I was blinded by her dancing's wildness
so i asked if she'd like to go somewhere more private
but I was surprised by her sudden shyness
eventually she slowly, coyly nodded in silence
something inside my snapped at that sight
and soon we were kissing by flickering candlelight

I don't remember when we took off our clothes
but the sight of her body was beyond description in prose
I was so enraptured that for a moment I froze
then she drew me close, a faint smell of rose
finally overcome by our desires,
we were making love like wildfire.

but there was no happy end
nothing so romantic
There was no fight
nothing so dramatic
simply returned to friends
something so diplomatic
for that night filled with magic
perhaps it feels anticlimactic
but left with our burnt out passion
all that remained of love were ashes
written to the prompt of "fire"
I imagine this is what it's like to use Tinder.
how many leaves
does it need to fall
to bring you Autumn?
 Oct 2017 Jean Lin
The winter this year will be the coldest one by far
I can see it in the coldness of my heart
Got bills to pay but my car wouldn't start
Had to heat my house with gas siphoned from my neighbours car

The winter this year will be the coldest one by far
I can feel its cold in my bones
the way they creak like old folks' homes
some days it feels like I'm trying to move through coal tar

The winter this year will be the coldest one by far
I can see the cold in my old friends' gazes
Whispers behind my back, the usual phrases
"Still playing guitar?"
"Still want to be a star?"
"Doubt you'll ever go far."

The winter this year will be the coldest one by far
I feel the cold coming out of my veins
my nerves so frozen I can't feel the pain
I only numbly hope that it doesn't leave a scar

The winter this year was the coldest by far
I was starting to think it might be my last
But somehow before i knew it winter had passed
Looking back I wonder if it was really so hard
Winter ended in August. Wrote a SAD poem for it.
Whater is cold?
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