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Love that can fill us up make us whole and give us happiness.
Does not mean saying, "I love you." Do
Not mistake the feelings, of imitation love for true love.

Always remember. True love does not
Mean having money, anger, ***, alcohol, violence, power, approval from others.
Saying, "I love you." Does not always mean love is true.

I want the love in my heart to be always true.
Love true with
You means. Giving to you all of my heart and soul unconditionally.

Copyright © Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.
“Love does not always mean saying, I love you.”
 Dec 2014 lost thoughts
curlygirl
Find a Poet Not a poser, not a "it's just a hobby" poet. Find one who mumbles lines as they scramble for a pen at breakfast; who shakes their head randomly when their thoughts aren't rhyming properly;  who has notebooks stashed around the house that you must never touch.
2. Listen Savor the spoken words, for those are harder to express. Keep in mind that they can't be edited and re-written, and be forgiving when a mistake is made.
3. Read The body speaks as loudly as words on a page do. When their eyes are closed or focused on the ceiling and the fingers are tapping out syllables, recognize the unique process. Respect the need for quiet, because if you look closely, you can read the poem on their face before they write it on the page.
4. Write Write your story together. Grab hold of the pen and hang on as you move across the page of life. Sometimes you will dance across, others you will be dragged. You may have to cross out a word, or a line, or a page, but don't give up. Discouragement is a poet's biggest enemy, inarticulateness their biggest fear. So end each day with a semi-colon, because the story will never end the way you think it will, and there must be room for more. There is always room for more, more words, more laughter, more tears, more love,
When you love a poet.
 Dec 2014 lost thoughts
Molly
Baby
 Dec 2014 lost thoughts
Molly
The back of my skull
explodes with white light
bone crushing —
the tunnels end. I have no control
of my voice.
Pushing, loud, and sweating,
your arms are warm
and homely,
I just want to absorb you.
Like a mirror hits the ground
earth shattering and sudden
and beautiful and all at once
smashed
into sparkling glints in sunlight —
the shaking, shuddering
bed posts stop creaking
for the sound of heavy breathing
"I think I love you"
I'm not sure if I even said it.
Forcing myself
Making myself better
Turning myself into someone new

Someone I don't know
Someone I don't like
Nothing I can do to stop it.
Nothing I can say

— The End —