Lately, I've seen poems trending about how no one should fall in love with a poet, nor should they make a poet helplessly fall in love with them. However, something no one has mentioned yet is what occurs too often: stealing from a poet.

When a poet writes a poem, that poem is the perfect combination of metaphors and imagery created by them for you -- a compilation so beautifully intricate that you can get lost by reading merely a few words, overtaken by an empathetic tide that you did not think would come to the corners of your eyes when you sat down and opened your book or tab or paper.

This is the beauty of poems; they express words that many cannot say in any other variation of any way. Ask a poet to describe their emotions and they will beg you for paper and pen, a computer and a keyboard. And these poems eventually combine to become a part of the poet.

The poems a poet writes become a part of themselves.

That being said, it is not okay to take away from a poet what is rightfully theirs. You do not steal from a poet because you are searching for an idea, or because you would like to go trending. Stealing is not poetry. Stealing is not beautiful.

We are a community of people with a love more affable for poetry than for ourselves, and we should all respect all the pieces, because if we do then we are accepting and respecting each other.

So I ask you from the bottom of my heart, do not steal from a poet any longer if you have, or at all if you have not. Your pieces are your own raw emotions, not mine. My pieces are my own raw emotions, not yours.

guys have a
habit of
f a l l i n g
into me
with no
safety vest.
i'm like the
sea during a
storm,
destructive and angry.
i'm like a drug,
they get addicted
to how high i
can make them feel
but forget about the
bad trips.
i'm like a book,
they want to
know every last
******* fiber,
every last ******* word
that can help
them try
to understand my content.
but they get to the end of the book
and realize
they didn't comprehend a **** thing.
i'm like a scar with a big back story.
i started out as a good thing,
a saving grace almost.
but don't worry,
eventually i'll become toxic
and i'll leave them
with marks
they never
want to
explain.

Being bound to love

Is bound to fall

But being bound to fall

Is bound to trust

And being bound to trust

Means even if that person doesn't catch you when you fall

You were happy to have died from the love

i am
one with
the ghosts.
do i exist
or am i
made up
by people
who can't
seem to
grasp the
concept that once
you're gone...
you're gone
for
**good?

I ask her to describe her mood
By color
& she said*  *"blue"
& I asked her why she's sad
She responded

*"I'm not,
I just love the way the ocean makes me feel
I love the water
So therefore I'm blue"

i didn't
plan on falling
for you.
in fact,
i didn't
think i
could.
but look
at me now,
your hands
leaving me breathless
and your
breathe leaving
me with goosebumps.
even my skin
is seeking
your touch