As I sit
On a deck chair
In the sun
Outside my childhood home
And let the sun
Leave its mark of beauty
On my skin,
My thoughts flow
Like poetry
And I am happy once again.

I can hear
The delicate chirp
Of birds
And wonder whether
They're saying:
"You should've done this
A long time ago."

You are too ******* yourself
Just let the past go
All these walls you have put up
It's hard for me to know
What you are really feeling inside
No emotions for you to show
Running in circles you say
Just let the past go
You're just running in circles now girl
Just let the past go

☁️

You’re in love with danger
I could see it in your eyes
It’s your underlying charm
That took me by surprise
Five minutes is all it took to
Move my glance to your lips
Your hand had already drawn
Closer and closer to my hips
They wrapped around slowly
Then quickly pulled me in
I reach toward your collar
Touch my fingers to your skin
You dove in and kissed me
Making me feel so pure
I wanted every part of you
And of that I was sure
You backed your head away
Flashed a devilish grin
Grabbed my hand tightly
Forcing an angel to sin
I followed you into the street
We dodged the passing cars
I held you as you stumbled
You had taken too many bars
When we got to the car
You had your hand on my lap
Whispering sweet in my ear
I always knew it was a trap
But it was your temptation
That dragged me inside
As a prisoner you held me
Not freeing me unsatisfied
So I let go of everything
Gave it all up to you
But you had an agenda
I was just something to do
When I woke in the morning
And turned my head
You were smiling asleep
Next to me in bed
I escaped your arms hold
Walked to the window pane
Found it to be sprinkled
With lines of your *******
I reached across for my pack
Lit myself a cigarette
Stared out at the sunrise
Full of sadness and regret

How long
should a
poem live?

Is its life
expectancy
dependent
upon the reader
or itself?

Can its
parts
wear
down?

Does death
treat literature
more kindly?

Find a Poet Not a poser, not a "it's just a hobby" poet. Find one who mumbles lines as they scramble for a pen at breakfast; who shakes their head randomly when their thoughts aren't rhyming properly;  who has notebooks stashed around the house that you must never touch.
2. Listen Savor the spoken words, for those are harder to express. Keep in mind that they can't be edited and re-written, and be forgiving when a mistake is made.
3. Read The body speaks as loudly as words on a page do. When their eyes are closed or focused on the ceiling and the fingers are tapping out syllables, recognize the unique process. Respect the need for quiet, because if you look closely, you can read the poem on their face before they write it on the page.
4. Write Write your story together. Grab hold of the pen and hang on as you move across the page of life. Sometimes you will dance across, others you will be dragged. You may have to cross out a word, or a line, or a page, but don't give up. Discouragement is a poet's biggest enemy, inarticulateness their biggest fear. So end each day with a semi-colon, because the story will never end the way you think it will, and there must be room for more. There is always room for more, more words, more laughter, more tears, more love,
When you love a poet.

It's been over a month,
And still that night replays over in my head.
The looks those people gave me,
When they seen my scars.
How they treated me and looked at me,
Like I wasn't human..

I wasn't sure what was going to happen,
Everything was a blur..
It all happened in an instant,
And I didn't know how to handle it.

I was taken away from my family,
And hospitalized for 8 straight days..
I was miles away from home,
And there was no possible way out..

But when I was in that place,
I learned something about myself,
I learned the true value of life..
And that it is full of misery and pain,
But without misery and pain,
There would be no such thing as happiness.

We all face a war with ourselves,
In my case, I had a war with depression..
And it went so far,
I landed myself in the hospital..
But it showed me,
I wasn't alone in this world,
Fighting a battle with depression.

But I'm proud to say,
After it all..
I won the battle,
And it's finally over.
At least, I hope it is...

I fell in love with the way my name rolls off of your drunken tongue and you slur your way through the consonants. I fell in love with the way your touch wounds me with something like a bullet hole and you leave nothing but a band aid. I fell in love with the way I hear your voice scream "stop" through the smoke in my charring lungs. I fell in love with the way I can see your face at the bottom of my bottle, because we all know you mix best with whiskey. I fell in love with the way you watch me drive through red lights with a wicked grin across your lucid face. I fell in love with the way you leave a toxic haze everywhere you go, you make it impossible to not get drunk on you.