she feels so alone
even with her family at home

maybe that's why she loves books
hey, at least she isn't a crook

she feels connected to the words
she wishes she could fly to them like a bird

the characters have become her best friends
they make her not want to reach the end

they make her feel special
she knows the feeling isn't artificial

she wishes they could last forever
reality's response to that is "never"

there is a connection between the books and she
from real life, they allow her to flee

As a writer each face I see in passing
Each businessman hunched over his computer
Each little girl in a pretty dress
Each hurried parent running fingers though tangled hair
Becomes a character in my head
A story to be created and molded

Green eyes become fields
While blue eyes become oceans
Each feature is a description in a story
That I may one day write

Don’t ever think for a second you are safe
Don’t think that I only use stranger’s faces
Each person I meet is a character on a page
Three dimensional until I find a pen
Your skin was the color of mocha
Hers the color of milk

Her eyes were geysers of blue and green
Yours were the Earth from which flowers grow
We were an 80’s love story
That could never last

You’re snoring lightly, your jaw unhinged slightly, the little dipper of freckles on your shoulder peeking out from behind your sheets.  The constellation I used to connect the dots to before you woke up.  You’d throw the pen at my face, trying to keep your frown firm, but you’d crack and jump on my back as I ran from you down the hall.  Merlin licking his paws, scrutinizing us from the doorway.  As your legs wrapped themselves comfortably around my waist, twisting to my front I’d kiss your neck and you’d make that sound like warm whiskey.
I wish I could be with you when you wake up tomorrow.  But your mother says its bad luck.
Just promise me you’ll still walk down the aisle if you wake up with my handy work on your shoulder.
                                                       ­                                                               I love you,
                                                            ­                                                                  David

With your kiss
You send me to oblivion
With your kiss
You make me weak in the knees

How warm you feel in my mind.

With your kiss
Your eyes burn into my mind
With your kiss
I feel arms

I feel the arms of a wooden chair
I feel the hard cold truth
Glass

Just a picture
Just a smile
Just a person
Unaffected by the touch of my lips
The stare of my eyes
The trickle of my tears

But your kiss is still there
Please
Just let it stay there

If we don't break the norm
Are we really writers?
Between characters I create and real life experiences
My mind never stops

She was kind of like starlight.
Glistening, quiet beauty.
Delicate, fragile, but powerful.
Nothing could dim her shining light, nothing could conceal her glimmering perfection, and she was herself to the end
...even when she was alone.

This is a free verse poem from one of my stories I'm writing describing one of my favorite characters I've created from her admirer's point of view.

Repost if you are a writer :)
Please comment, I LOVE to hear thoughts on my work.

And all of a sudden
it doesn't matter anymore.

Where you are,
where you were
why must I care?

We were already separated
by those invisible barriers.
Bound to some unseen threads.

You to me, and I to you
were illusions.
Like characters from a novel
striving to meet between lines,
shocked
by an unhappy ending
occurring all of a sudden.