do not fall in love with a poet
unless you can accept flickering candles at obscene hours
and ink stains that cover their fingers and clothes
and constant eye bags that they may need you to kiss

do not fall in love with a poet
unless you handle them dropping all and suddenly
composing
and then shutting you out in frustration of imperfection
sometimes words just do not do the things that they want

do not fall in love with a poet
if you do not appreciate paragraphs about your eyes
or if you do not have very beautiful prose
your simplicity will scare; they will simply hide their heart

do not fall in love with a poet
and solely be swept away by their mesmerizing verses
they will take you and transfix you in the dead of the night
leaving you breathless
but they'll be gone by morning

*k.c.

Holding hands in society and in private is a true form of commitment.
Hold my hand while I lead you away from what makes you hurt.
Hold my hand while I guide you to your light.
Hold my hand in compassion.
Hold my hand during times of grief.
Let me know you are truly listening by holding my hand.
Congratulations,  shake my hand.
It's a bet, handshake confirmed.
Let's hold hands and be there for one another.
Help me be brave, let me know I am not alone,  take my hand in yours.
High five congratulations,  turn into a hand shake.
A handshake turned to hug goodbye.
Hand over hand shake of I will miss you.
A hand shake turned to bro hug, while saying goodbye to a friend.
A hand shake to share our emotions and introduce our souls.
A hand shake to confirm a end.

If I'd known that five thirteen
On the seventeenth
Would be the very last
Before "I love you" became the past
I wouldn't have left you alone
I'd have said "around you I feel at home"
Because I will love you always
But my hearts as empty as these hallways
Because now you'll never love me back
And now whole world's turning black
Because my perfect angels gone
But still my love burns on

As it always will.