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NAR Feb 2014
“I want to do to you what spring does with the cherry trees.”
~ Pable Neruda
NAR Jun 2013
She's Poetry,
in more ways than she herself knows.
Just a glance in my direction with those radiant eyes,
or even the mere sound of her voice escaping those lips of silk,
is enough to awaken the butterflies that have been at rest in my soul for what feels like an eternity,
with the intensity of a cyclone.

She's Poetry,
Moving like the smoke releasing from the lit end of my cigarette,
drifting softly wherever the wind may take her.
Her luminous smile alone
is enough of a spark to set my mind ablaze,
giving me the inspiration to write for days and days and days.

She's Poetry.
With just the slightest touch, all my pain instantaneously evaporates,
and my heart begins to melt away.
Sweet as the summer rain, she swims through the rivers of my brain,
and I'm still wondering if she feels the same.

Shes Poetry,
in more ways than she herself knows.

— The End —