(On her canvas, brushes will cross;
he, the art of loving the loss)

Notice, nod, smile
make strange worth her while.

Stand, wink, wave
break poise,
misbehave.

Give first free of charge
and by last; indemnify.
Attain room without barge
-wend, strain, stratify.

Ms. judged me.
I can't help but feel,
That she's misjudged me.

In reflection,
I can't fault her.
I just hope it's not a perception,
That I can't alter.

The two felt a chemical attraction.
Serotonin leaked onto his uncovered skin.
He couldn't speak, his tongue dried, dehydrated by her heat.
**** those eyes were like Kryptonite, He had pride in himself for being a statue.
Smooth as a razor blade he came out of that conversation dull.
The wrong impression was given since he had handed her rotten flowers.
Give me a second to recollect my thoughts and bring them back from the stunned blackout, wow, you are such a powerful knockout.
I'm fixing my posture and choosing my words right.
Our symbols are well matched and I'm not talking astrology, I'm talking chemistry.
Two different colors mixed together makes her blush and makes me crush.

From the moment the words splash onto the page I feel excitement like the night before Christmas. I sit collecting the thoughts and lines I conjured throughout the day, then eagerly place each piece until the puzzle is whole.
I like to imagine I have a way with words, but that's not true. I have a way of rebelling to what's been told. Unscripted lies placed in our heads by society. Schemes to make us believe we are supposed to put everything second because being “cool” is priority. Or blend in with the crowd or else you'll get pushed, shoved, and then stomped on. Until creativity is a negative connotation, they **** individualism which then gives birth to stereotypes.
I like to think I have a way of words, but that's not true. Every word has power. Though they can often be used to pierce and bruise. Tattered and misused. Each time they come out your mouth or bleed ink, paint or graphite. That's your mark and the impression you leave for the entire world to see.
I like to think I have a way with words, but that's not true. I just love a canvas to portray the good parts of me, the bad parts of me. The parts filled with animosity, fear, and definitely aren't god breathed. Just to show that sometimes I falter, so don't ever follow me.
I like to think I have a way with words, but that's not true. I'm just grabbing the torch and running with it. It's a calling not a choice. It chooses you as a vessel. The words came to me when I had nothing else, they took me under their wings and showed me destiny. The words mold me, shape me, and build me up. Give me courage to speak up.
I like to think I have a way with words, but that’s not true. The giddy feeling I get when I hear them calling to me at night, keeping me from sleep, or waking me abruptly in the morning like a cold refreshing shower just waiting to energize and excite me always reminds me that though I like to think I have a way with words, it’s not true... Words have a way with me.