"I wish that people
around you liked
me for you"
I know you'll ask me why, but it matters..
I haven't smoked for
thirty-six days, I know
I never thought I'd get
that far either but I did

Though last night, misery
was consuming every
bit of me so I bought a
bottle of gin and a pack of
marlboro red hoping
it would ease and
loosen things up

While I drank and smoked
my pain away, I gazed up
the sky and smiled though
my heart stung
It was a bright crescent
moon, millions of
stars shined beautifully
through it and I saw
an airplane pass by, too
then I thought to myself,

"Baby, you'd love this so
much! I wish I could call
you and tell you how amazing
it is tonight.."

I let out a long sigh as I
smoked my fifth cigarette
while I wipe my tears away
I remember how much you hate vodka and gin, god I miss you so bad it stings. </3
"Can I call you?
I miss your voice
and laughter"
Day three and missing you.. :'(
It's really beautiful how flowers
grew on the saddest part's of me
the moment you stepped into my life.
fragrance just radiated unexplained happiness
and drew such colorful auras.
   you are the sunshine;
the reason why these flowers bloom.

The love that we have cultivated is the
Amarath, the flower that never fades.
the love that is everlasting.
dreams of you beneath the honey-
moonlight, together laughing.
life tastes better, now. from my soul,
the masks begins to fall.
every moment passing, i am finding happiness.
enveloped in your love,
I am finally home.
©Shang ©Alliana
When i write poetry i am stripping for you
Exposing my inner self
And laying it bare for all to see
Sharing my innermost thoughts and feelings
So i am fragile and naked before you
So you can gaze upon my words and understand
How i see the world and who i am deep inside
This act is a sharing of my soul
An open unashamed expression
Of trust between me and you
And i offer it to you with no expectations.
I thought I loved the East Coast until I saw your eyes look back at me under the moonlight slipping through the window.
I thought I loved the East Coast until we were pressed together, laughing, trying to fit on your twin mattress.
I thought I loved the East Coast until I felt your breath on my neck at four in the morning.
I long for the Pacific and for you to take me there.
If it can be written about,
Then it can become a poem.
It doesn't matter if its heartwarming,
We've all been there,
And thats the point, sometimes;
Or if it doesn't even exist,
Thats called fiction.
Everything can become poetry,
And everyone already is.
I feel really bad for using "can" so much, but I have no idea what other word works and sounds good.
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