i could never listen to your voice;
my ears could never hallucinate.
i could never look at you for so long;
my eyes could never hold your gaze.
i could never measure your big hands;
my fingers and yours could never lace.
i could never be in your solid arms;
my hands—liquid—could never encircle your waist.

but i think i could be on your mind
and i could be written in your heart:
if you read the words that i write
when you pick up this poem and start.

I am a cat poet,
prowling streets of mind
for a mouse like phase
to play with.

Meow! I whisper
in wind of night,
that carries inspiration
below glowing stars.

Meow! I echo,
in moment where
at any turn a phase dipped
in catnip fills lungs.

Meow I sing,
as cat antenna raise
to collect visions
ready to scribed.

Meow! I scream,
walking cross
cobble stone like keypad
toward place
where writing paws can rest

The place, that brings me to purrrrrrr
in poetic song
as I’m petted by a readers praise.

She realized she was like a novel
Born in a world that didn't care to read
So she started to hate herself
Like a truth amongst lies perceived
She was like the hard truth
Based on a grimm story
Living amongst fake lies
Shallow and sweet with a happy ending
Surrounded by people
Who only read summaries
Who couldn't dive deep enough
To read her full story
So she waits for a person
With a long enough attention span
A fated reader, with depth similar to her
Who can read as much as she can

Love her like a novel
Read her to the end
Most only read a few pages
When there is more to comprehend

How can you say you know her
When you give up after chapter one
You don't know the whole story
Her story has just begun

Her words are so deep and different
Her story is a special edition
It is one of a kind, difficult to find
So read her with good intentions

Read her several times to understand
The first pages of her are intense
You'll find more reasons to love her
Between the lines that are too complex

She becomes your favourite book
She contains your favourite quotes
You fell in love with her character
Fated reader, a love story has been told

Words are not written
to pierce hearts,
To mend the broken ones
To heal the bruised ones
To stitch the torn ones
To love the lost ones
To kiss the hated ones
To miss the gone ones
To lose the loved ones
To stab the honest ones
To hurt the feeble ones
To tear the soft ones
To break the hard ones
To melt the cold ones
To feel the fallen ones
To crush the smashed ones
To throw the plastic ones
To pick the everlasting ones
To cry for someone
To lie to the only one
To steal someone's only one
To **** the brave ones
To crown the coward ones
To laugh on meek ones
To smile for no one
To see the invisible ones
To hear the mute ones
To scream to the deaf ones
To defeat the invincible ones
And to win the heart of someone.
Words are just written,
And for every reader,
every word
Every punctuation mark,
And every space
Tells a different story.
That's the beauty of words.

My world is silent
Gleaned through black and white letters
Speaking with no sound

I’m creating worlds for fun
Having people’s lives in my hand
Is a luxury some don’t care for
I’m a control freak, if I’m honest
And doing this feels so good
I’m not hurting anyone but the character
But a little bit of me
If a reader comes along,
I’ll be extending a piece myself to them

In elementary school
Things were so much simpler
My three titles-
Artist
Reader
Nice
-Basically defined me
In other’s eyes
...
Now,
I am lost
In a sea of people
No clear direction
No clear idea
Of who I am
Where I belong
will I ever?