Sometimes we are mistaken..
Being a poet it comes within..
To trust the words that people utter..
Tired eyes....
Tired ears...
Tired mind.
Still not tiresome of searching for the one to truly call mines.
Perhaps I should be with the one who shares my love for words and perception.
Magma emerges..
She errupts..
At the very thought of finding
She yearns for the eruption that concludes in true.
Or inside..for the better she watches herself emerge out of you.



Jennifer DeAngelo
-Copyrighted 2016