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 Feb 2013 Nicole
Chuck
People will disappoint you
Find your hero within
Confidants are few

Worshiping athletes is through
Trash jerseys in the bin
People will disappoint you

Hero worship is taboo
Celebrities and spin
Confidants are few

Others will lead you askew
Fidelity is thin
People will disappoint you

Parents can lose luster too
Once hero, now has been
Confidants are few

Bid pseudo heroes a dew
Your hero dawns your skin
People will disappoint you
Confidants are few
I don't completely feel this way. I just told myself to write a poem about this subject. I love the Villanelle form.
 Feb 2013 Nicole
Alexis Martin
I thought about you today
I think about you a lot
and about how you promised me a garden
you promised me a lot
I thought about your sheets
on top of us a lot
and how I told you my secrets
I told you a lot
I thought about your t-shirts
I wore them a lot
and how you kissed my forehead
your lips are chapped a lot
And I thought about how we were never in love
but we said those words a lot
and I am so sorry that I hurt you
*I hurt people a lot
Hand placed upon chest.
“Allow yourself to receive.”
My heart had opened.
I've been conflicted with the divine lately. A lot actually! I attended a non religion spiritual blessing last night and this experience truly happened. I felt some temporary peace in which I hadn't for a while. It was nice. :)
 Feb 2013 Nicole
Chuck
Weekend in Jersey
It's baby Sin City, but
Daddy wont sin, much
 Feb 2013 Nicole
Sarina
Satan is a bird at the end of a twig
I picked up from a peach-colored lane just last year.
A dry morn, though the day was April or May
like he knew he would be fanning cherry flames soon.

The men are always in power: God and Satan.
I made a pact that I would be both –
goddess and femme fatale, bite the ears of egg shells.

He broke from one a ghost and had a beautiful voice –
high in the tide of treetops waving goodnight,
opened like an abscess on pores
and gave the terrain a kick. I mothered him,
over time Satan became my library pianist, my kid.

Girls taught him everything there is about
astronomy, little did we know he was a citizen of the
moon and pushed everyone else off the side
or into a yellowing crater. He looked so small.

No one believed his voice could be
so thunderous even when he created storms himself –
including the one that drew me to his feather
glued to moss and maggots in an attractive place,
froze and lone, Satan’s existence is my fate.
 Feb 2013 Nicole
martin
She sees him once or twice a week
For services bought and sold
She keeps it all a bit hush-hush
Her friends she hasn't told

He makes her knees go wobbly weak
Her heartbeat gets so fast
She feels her body overheat
He makes her pant  and gasp

They say she's looking good these days
They all are wondering why-
Why the jaunty spring in the step-
Why the sparkling eyes

Then one night with all her friends
She said I'll tell you a thing-
This is Wil, my personal trainer
And this my diamond ring
 Feb 2013 Nicole
Marian
Fairies live in the Enchanted Forests
Where breezes cool their beautiful faces
A forest where there are never tourists
Where Fairies are dressed in pretty laces
Where sunrays shine across the Forest path
So picturesque, beautiful, and divine
Have you seen this place? No one ever hath
Except me and the Fairies of Sunshine
This is where the beautiful Fairies dance
Forever and into eternity
Where breezes blow and in one quick sweet glance
They fly away where I cannot them see
Tonight they'll be singing a lullaby
And the Moon will watch from the deep blue sky

*~Marian~
 Feb 2013 Nicole
Harley Rae
"Your hair smells so good", you sighed, as I covered your face in a veil of my faded chocolate brown locks. The scent was Juicy Couture and cheap cigarettes

      It was a smell hard to enjoy by most, yet you had an easy smile on your face as I shifted my weight around to tickle your face with my hair. I sat straddling your hips and hovering over your small torso; admiring things about your face most don't notice and only finding beauty in each imperfection.

     You told me you loved the way I smelled after I questioned your adoration for my scent. You revealed that you enjoyed wearing a sweater I had borrowed from you simply because it smelled of me; and that you were saddened when it was soiled.

     I smiled the way I always do when sweet words tumble from your even sweeter lips.


     I had woken up alone that morning, like most other times I spent my nights in your bed, and hated it more, and more each time I had to wake up without you. It wasn't until late afternoon that you arrived at the place you call home and greeted me.

     We smoked together in your bedroom, the place I am more comfortable than anywhere else, and after a moment you removed yourself from the floor, and laid to rest on your bed. Wanting nothing more than to lie close to you, I seized the moment before it passed and asked you to make room for me next to you.

     We laid in bed for what passed like seconds, but lasted hours. We drifted in and out of sleep as I rest my head on your arm, taking in your scent with every breath.

I doubt I would be successful if I tried to describe your scent with words. Your scent to me is more than what words could only make it seem; I can only describe it with emotions and experiences.

Your scent is that of late night laughter with our old friends, new friends, and people we hardly know.
It is the scent of Friday mornings spent in bed, blissful love making, cigarettes, and a loved sweater.
It's what I wouldn't mind waking up to each morning, or falling asleep to each night.
It is the scent of old memories, and new ones to come.

And it is the very one that I adore most.
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