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I try to smile and laugh 
But my lips turn numb and dry 
I try to sing a song 
But I can't and all I can do is cry 

I cannot tell, I cannot shout 
And my tongue seems tied 
I cannot show my love for you 
It will remain a mystery I hide 

Somewhere in my broken heart 
I see all memories that passed 
I see your face, I feel your skin 
Somewhere in the broken there's us
For the broken-hearted ones....
 Jul 2018 Joshua Michael
em
recently
I got a little older,
learned a lesson or two,
like how loving someone
could never be as poetic
as I wanted it to.
like how nothing
would ever be as poetic
as I wanted it to.
how can I accept
that the miracle of love
isn’t really a miracle at all?
how can I wrap myself
in someone’s arms
when I know
that there isn’t any sort
of poetic loving involved?
how do I unlearn
the romantic thoughts
that taught me
about the fireworks,
the butterflies,
and the fluttering fingers
in the dark.
and accept that
maybe kissing
won’t be as spiritual as I thought.
maybe it’s really just a mouth on mine.
how do I unlearn my innocent heart
who lulled me into a false sense of hope
for a lover who would call
the way my body moves
art.
a lover who would feel
the poetry
in every word
I spoke in the dark.
 Jul 2018 Joshua Michael
Nirvana
lighting up a cigarette    
feels really great
taking its small puff
is living happily, enough?

the ash is falling
and so do we
the smoke is rising
and that's what we aim to be

the cigarette burns it deep
and so we've to perceive
to have a successful reap
for smoky appreciation we'll receive

the first puff could be choking
but do we quit smoking?
alike failures are the stepping stone
arise, no one will pamper you're all alone

burn out like a cigarette
to achieve something great
fall like ash, rise like smoke
learn it from cigarette dear folk

don't panic if something goes wrong
have patience and stay strong
after all a cigarette is finally thrown
as we die our body/story is sown...
A smoker can relate to
And a person can relate too
but a poet/writer can relate the two!
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