.

I want to write
    beautiful poetry
upon your blushing skin
       using my finger,
  gently tracing
    each verse

Allowing
     the unspoken love
I have in my heart
   to surrender you  
with each word
   *written

The crowd fades away
As chords in every melody
Rings in our ears,
And shivers downs in our body
It vibrates in every muscle
A musical fusion
Almost everything didn’t matter
It’s you, me and the beating rhythm
The graceful posture
The sway of every gesture
It’s a motion adventure.

Feeling the adrenaline pulsing through
Pervading the entity
Beating rhythm pounding, it electrifies the body
into graceful art, emancipating the sound of the music
Captivating the mind, liberating the young, reckless soul
covertly hidden inside an indifferent exterior

A freeing beauty
of movement to the rhythm
A therapy to the mind and body.
Dancing to the music,
feeling every tune
every beat
every breath of every movement,
with Explosions of Euphoria

I feel sorry for the moon for what he has to see every night.

The madness of people that only shows when the sun leaves.

I feel sorry for the moon, he cannot run away.

I'm too selfish to let him go.

I know he suffers from his undying love for the sun.

I know he whispers apologies in the night air hoping for the sun's forgiveness.

I know the sun will never listen.

I feel sorry for the moon for he is alone and can never live without the sun.

I feel sorry for the moon for the shame he carries on his back.

Heavy and hidden.

I'm falling for the moon and he will never know.

Don't ever fall in love with a poet
because they will indeed admire and watch your every move
they will write about how the pen marks on the side of your palm when you write
don't ever because they will trace
every single freckle you have on your face and
write about the color of each and every one of them and
describe how they smile so brightly under the sunlight
they will want you to want to know every little thing about them
even if it's just what hand they write with and want you
to be wondering why they write with that specific hand when in
reality it doesn't even matter

the poet will watch the way you dig
your eyes onto that book and your small quick remarks onto the 26 letters all crumpled together and will know that everyday at 5:28 p.m. you smile

they will look deeply into your eyes
to see if they can at least take a little
peak of your soul and they will write
about you like if you were the only
thing they see good in this world

they will want to know what you think
about when you look at them and
see if you also count each and
every freckle and hope and write  
that you do but they will
love you endlessly and they will
show you that they love you and only you

but don't date a poet if you aren't
capable to watch them and
admire their imperfections
when they sleep late at night
beside you.

j.f

I've run out of stories to tell
about how you took
the best of me.