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Its been a couple of days now
And I don't know how I feel
I miss you
You became my whole world in a matter of months
And now you've been ripped from my soul
We seem to be stuck in a different universe
Stuck between two worlds
Between hello and goodbye
But it's better this way
I swear to you it is
But I still miss you
  Feb 2015 nicole smith
LoveLy
" I have a Dream..."
He had a dream.
We have failed him.

No this does not stop at blacks and equal rights and treatment. No it stops when people can put down there guns and find a peace because his dream was not just for  the discrimination  of one people with one color of skin.

There is so much hate that rules this world that the little love we have is only truly spread by those who dont see color AND dont be violent. There is not enough of THAT love.

This country does not hold up to its "creed".
Mr. Martin Luther King Jr. in time wold be my great grandfather and i can tell you today over many generations children are still judged by the color of their skin not their character.

The love in my heart slowly turns to hate as i listen to all the hopes and dreams of the past that have never been accomplished.  

He was not one man changing the world he was one of many and as a leader he has *still *not been heard.

If Mr. King Jr. had a dream for today.
I have a dream for tomorrow.
Ongoing Slam
  Feb 2015 nicole smith
The Good Pussy
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Ernest Hemingway
nicole smith Feb 2015
I wish I knew how to accept love
why won’t I allow my self to accept that maybe someone likes me let alone loves me.
am I scared that I’ll end up alone and depressed.
it is it because I’m scared that they’ll stop loving me.
that that they’ll wake up one day and decided that they’ve moved on.
that they don’t love me anymore.
maybe it’s that someone could say they loved me when in reality they never did
and it was all a game.
  Feb 2015 nicole smith
Kiya
The moon was so bright it was as bright as the moon.
The stars looked as radiant as stars in the sky.
You were next to me, and it felt as if you were near me.
And we held hands till they cramped up and were crippled for life.
This is so unromantic it's not romantic at all.
And it's not very poetic, it's not even poetry.
We were lying there under the trees...
Trees,
Swaying in the wind like my thoughts about butts.
Well this was fun.
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