You deny being a poet
Yet every word you say

Is poetic.

artful way to vent
spill secrets you wouldn't tell a soul
to make things that can only be woven by the fabric of words

Her stance
gives off an aura
of power

Her voice
projects to the corners
of the room

Should I be intimidated?
Or should I be amazed?

My little pixie
The one I want
but I was too late
It flew away

How can I get it back?

I asked a beautiful boy
to write my birthday on my wrist.

I passed him a purple pen
and he sat shoulder-to-shoulder with me
resting my arm on his leg.

We sat like this
for much longer than we should've.

And you know what I asked him?

I asked a beautiful boy
to be my boyfriend.

The best thing about life
is finding the simple patterns.