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Don't ask me what it is like to love someone
I have thrown the word love away
Like they do colorful beads at Mardi Gras
Abundant and beautiful
Yet no one throws them back
Don't ask me what it is like to love someone
I have waited by too many telephones
I have kissed too many of the wrong people
Hoping to find one who's lips might taste like his
Like craving something you're allergic to
Yet still giving into the temptation of eating it an suffering anyways
Do not ask me what it is like to love someone
Because I have not experienced real love
Real love is when it is returned
Having the one who's eyes look like the sunrise
The one who's walk makes you want to follow behind them
The one who had a smile that can reignite a fireplace
Having the one who makes your heart melt like ice cream on a summer day love you as much as you love them or even more
That is real love
And I am not familiar with something so precious
Because the one who stimulates my well-being is too busy
Following someone else, someone who is nothing like me
And yet still I wonder if he is taste testing too
"Ate my guts
Devoured my mind
Ripped into my soul
Stole my life
Now you
Want to silence
My voice"
 May 2014 Steven Fortune
Denisse
I'll ride in a unicorn if I had a chance
Go visit the hidden garden and take a glance
I'll go drop and make a dance in the moon
Through the magic carpet and massive balloon.

I'll watch the star from falling
Tie a hanky and keep myself wishing
I'll fly with the help of the birds
Make a big conversation with the clouds.

I'll submerge in the sea to play with Ariel
Dance under water and collect shell
I'll travel to visit Alice in the Wonderland
Not minding the dirt in the sand.

I'll ride on the plane and go to Paris
Tour myself in the city of poetry
I'll go to Eiffel Tower to have my dream come true
I don't care if I will go alone, atleast I have my happiness upto my bone.

Paris will be an amazing trip, but it isn't enough
I want to go visit the Queen
In the place where my favorite boyband has been
The place called London, the land I wish I was on.

It's always an amazing thing to imagine
And there is no other place for this, only in this piece.
When you write poem, you can go where you want, you can do whatever you want, you can act without limits. That's an awesome thing in a poem. YOU CAN DO WHATEVER YOU WANT.
Dear mr. Cole.
I allow myself
"Joe", with the deepest respect
For a man I barely know.
But I know...

You contain
Multitudes, no less than
Whitman. Supporting posting
Writers with the warmth
Of an all-loving Allfather; raining
And shining on seedlings sown
By poets of varying confidences.

Larger than any poet
Ever read
Is he who encourages writing.

Joe, yours is the hand that swats
The one that holds back the
Pen of the uncertain poet.

Your poetry reflects
Your garden, God's Creation,
The beauty within wild things
Growing...

And all that glory and grace
Of which you write,
My friend, our Joe.
Is all a mirror
Reflecting
Its beholder.
I dream of going far away.
Plunging into the grandeur
And the vastness
Of the world.
I am ready to leave this place;
I am ready, I say,
To be away.

I will write and draw,
And take drugs with strangers.
I will sleep on the beach,
Bathe in rivers,
And plunge into nature,
Away from four walls,
From screens and cars,
And toward greenery and stars;
Splendid laughter and epiphanies
Spilling from the ether,
Behind trees and over mountains,
In the silent water of calm lakes,
And in the crimson sky
Of some northwestern twilight.

I will wander abandoned roads
And drink coffee in midnight diners
Thousands of miles from home,
For the road beckons,
And the moon never waits.

The wanderlust of youth
Is nothing to waste.
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