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  Feb 2015 Storm
Kennedy Taylor
Have you ever been afraid to write?
Almost like you don't want to feel what you would write about?
Yet at the same time you're craving it?

I want to write,

I want to write about the offset piece of sidewalk outside her house
     that I always managed to trip over no matter how many times I had
     before promising I would never trip again.
I want to write about how I would drive the long way to get to where I
     was going for months after we broke up just so I could pass the road
     leading to her house just to have a chance of seeing her, even if she
     never noticed me.
I want to write about how I'm afraid I'll never feel the static race down
     my spine when I kiss someone ever again because after she left no
     kiss has ever managed to spark anything inside of me.
I want to write about how I sat for hours on the ledge where we first
     kissed because I could let my tears fall down off the cliff like rain
     that I hoped would water the ground enough for a flower to grow so
     if she ever came back she would have something almost as beautiful
     as her to see there waiting.                                    
I want to write about how I now understand how Jesus could die for
     people who hated him because even though she hates me,
     I begged God to forgive her, because she knew not what she did to
     me.

But I don't write any of it,
Because I’m afraid to feel like that again,
Because It's pathetic,
Because I'm afraid she will see it,
Because it's not love,
It's poetry.

And no matter what her reply was,
it's still poetry.
And even though I don't love her anymore,
she’s still my stanza,
And I'm trying to find a new poem to write.
Storm Feb 2015
i give up

the love is too much to bear
and though i try to forget
i know i never will

i give up

i watch you laugh and cry and live
so full of life
a life we'll never share

i give up

you'll always go to him
because you love him
and who am i to stop that?

i give up

i'll watch from the shadows
watch your love for him,
as i watch with my love for you

i give up
Storm Feb 2015
Love isn't like stories

Love is holding her close
Breathing her in
Matching your breath with hers

Love is wiping her tears away
Memorizing her laugh
Making her smile

Love is sharing in jokes
Private affairs
No one else could understand

Love is being understanding
Watching her walk away
Following her anyway

Love is the joy in her eyes
The crinkle in the corners
The gleam in her pupil

Love is the mess of her hair
The art she creates
The poems she writes

Love is the hugs that she gives
The cuddles she offers
The warmth of her body against yours

Love is watching her go
Getting left behind
But it's okay

Love is letting her go
Happy with him
It's enough

Love isn't like stories
But I wouldn't have it any other way
Storm Feb 2015
I will hold you if you'd like
I will  wipe away your tears and sorrows

I will be there if you want
I will be the ear that listens

You can go to him if you want
And I will wait on the sidelines

If you never return my love
I will not mind

So long as you're happy
I will be happy as well
  Feb 2015 Storm
Jeuden Totanes
You gorgeous *******.
I like you.
Storm Feb 2015
Twas the night before the end of the world,
And all through the house,
Not a creature was giving any craps,
Not even the mouse.

The rain was pounding
On the roof up ahead,
But no one paid mind,
They had nothing to dread

The children were nestled
All smug in their beds,
While thoughts of still having freaking school tomorrow
Danced in their heads.

With mom in her kerchief
And dad in his cap,
They both settled down
For a (hopefully) peaceful nap.

12 am struck, and my eyes opened wide!
The end of the world!
It was coming!
We all had to hide!

I got out of bed
As quick as a dash,
And tore open the curtains,
Tore down the sash!

And what, to my wondering eyes, would appear?
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
Oh...oh dear.

The streets were wet from rain,
The grass and dirt muddy.
A crazy guy walked down the street,
And he was somewhat chubby.

Oddly disappointed, I went back to bed.
For now, like every other sane person,
I had nothing to dread.

The children awoke,
And as they shouted about the end in fright,
I heard mom exclaim,
"It's not over, shut up, and good night!"
Back on December 20, 2012, the population of the world thought it was going to finally bite the dust. Instead of freaking out, I had taken that night to write up this little baby to the rhythm of "Twas the Night Before Christmas". Two year old poem, take of it what you will! Enjoy!
  Jan 2015 Storm
Just Melz
There's nothing I'd like more
Than to just be happy
I don't even know anymore
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