Hello, Old dear friend,
It has been so long.
I wish you could see,
Just how strong I've become,
Since you left,
Since you walked out the door,
Telling me,
You didn't want me anymore.
I wish I could show,
Just how much more I know,
Now that you're gone,
and left me alone.
I send you this letter,
Not to rub it in,
Just how much better,
I have been,
Without you,
And your lies.
Instead I am writing,
Just so you'll know,
I think of you every time that it snows,
And I look at the gift that I bought for you,
That I never delivered,
Though it's just what you'd choose,
Because I knew you so well,
And I even still do,
But I am gone now,
So it's too bad for you.
With love forever,
Your former treasure.

I want to write again
I want to feel
Like I did back then
When my day depended
On the words I had chosen
-- The life I put
In my poems

I want to write again
I want to feel
The thrill of the pen
The delight that rushes through my veins
When the right words blend
The pain I endure
Once my thoughts
No longer make sense

I am exhilarated
When I start
Scribbling on paper
My heart at peace
As soon as I polish it
On my typewriter

I write again
I write
Like nothing ever happened
Like not a thing prevented me
Months at an end

I write again

I write
Because it is who I am
Because in time,
I always return
To my essence
-- That in the end,
Nothing feels quite right
Unless I am writing.

Blinded by shadows,  didn't see the light,
Should have asked you to dance on a moonlit night,
never caught you a star in warm embrace,
or traced the contours of your face.
never ran my fingers through your hair,
or screamed and laughed like we just didn't care,
never stared into your eyes, as dark as coal,
or poured my secrets into your soul,
didn't understand till it was all too late,
how the sugar sweet candy took care of your fate.

Morning tears are the ones that hurt the most,
they linger and distill the freshness of the new day,
eclipsing our view of the sun,
causing disparity of the soul.

© H V Swan

You're so beautiful with the red full lips
         big curly dark hair  
                 pale white skin
how you say things
that you read from your favorite book
how you stare
                and admire
the moon when it shines in the dark

But why is it that
I can't just concentrate
at those perfect details anymore
But concentrate deeply
at those rigid wrists of yours
notice perfectly
how every horizontal cut is slowly
stopped at the end
because you were too scared to mark
another secret  

I always wonder what happened
to such a beautiful girl?
what is your story?
why is it that you grab a blade
to make gaps on your wrists
to print scars on your skin for a life time?

and I always wonder
that if you knew about
how much I thought of you

if you would stop

j.f

If I don't make you laugh on your worse days if I'm not the one that
you go to when you don't want to speak to another human being
if I don't put a smile on your face
just by you listening to my voice
If I don't make your heart skip a beat
when I say I love you
leave me
If I'm not on your mind 24/7
maybe even less
(so it can be an exception)
and if my name is not on your school notebooks with hearts on it
(maybe my name in a light grey)
leave me
run away from me
far, far away
if the thought of you not wanting to speak to me again crosses your path
on days you hate me
leave me
if I don't make you squirm in happiness
even if it's just by the simple word
of hello
and make you the saddest when i say
the simple words of just good bye
leave me
just please leave me
just please do so
because you deserve better and
there is someone out there
who will make you feel
the way I wish I could make you feel

so leave me

j.f

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

She once loved a poet
A couple lifetimes ago,
In a time where the rhyme
Kept her in the flow.

And to the enchanting poet,
The rose didn't smell as sweet
As his first glances at her;
The seraphs couldn't compete.

He was the poem written on her heart,
The love only found in dreams.
She was bound and determined to have him
By any ways and means.

As fate would have it, they had each other.
Their love intensified by his magic,
His use of word and rhyme,
Slowly turned from romantic to tragic.

Because there is nothing magical about love,
It's really a matter of the heart.
Just because you can write on love
It doesn't mean that's who you are.

I want to be loved by a poet
because only poets know how
to steal your heart with words
a poet can capture your soul
within one simple poem
but can two poets coexist?

*can a poet love a poet?