Falling out of love
Is something that happens
Minds and hearts
Drift apart
New loves
Taken up in place
Of old ones
Some love remains
But others change
Hearts once on fire
Tamed by the dulling reality
Of complacency
Loves change
The heart doesn't

I hate being a woman
Some may ask why and others shake their head because they know.
I hate being a woman.
People look at me,
I talk about the big things in life because I want to be somebody.
I want to help people I want to save lives I want to matter in the world.
I have thoughts I have hopes and dreams.
I have big ideas.
But everybody is more concerned with what I'm wearing, or what size bra I wear, or what my favorite *** position is.
I hate being a woman.
We stand on a pedestal miles high, and high heels much higher,
for everyone to gaze at our complexions and so called "temples" of a body.
We are taught to shut our mouths and do what others tell us to do.
It's wrong to say no.
It's okay for our men to ****** and be ****** to release and express,
But women are delicate and pure.
We are not ****** beings.
We aren't allowed to speak our minds freely because we are wrong.

I hate being a woman.
Because in a world of free men,
We stand, still chained to the past.

I wish I was with you now.
Wrapped in your warm embrace.
I feel a lot safer there than anywhere else
In the world.
I love you to the moon and back.
They call me crazy because I say I'm in
Love.
I am warm inside and smile bright.
I love the way you love me.
I love the way you can make me laugh.
I love the way you kiss me.
I love the way you look when you talk to me.
I love everything.

Now once upon a midnight dreary
A young fellow once did ponder weak and weary
Not like anything one has heard before,
But this time is was something more.
As he slumped in evening chair,
Ah too much to have care.
The world around him caved in and saw,
His duties were beckoning him with their claw.
Arose from the chair pondering and pondering,
Out the door he came wandering and wandering.
Down the lowly corners and streets set light,
For he could not understand where we was try as he might.
Pulling and puzzling at his own thoughts jumbled,
Came the swift of his feet towards the soft thunder's rumble.
"What great spirit has led me to this? Upon my neighbor's door,
What such a dream, 'tis this and nothing more."
Without reason or thought upon his mind,
What strange power has caused this ill time?
Upon the chime of the midnight hour,
Stood this man at the door of the neighbor's tower.
Why he was there, that we may never know,
But surely the neighbor heard the commotion below.
A rapping came onto the neighbor's door,
"This is only a dream," the man thought to himself,
"'Tis a dream and nothing more."
He felt the pull of his hand as he tapped his neighbors door,
The force of an entity he never felt before.
Why he was there, we may never know,
But the neighbor did hear the commotion below.
As silent as the grave, the man stood waiting.
Patiently and quietly without hesitating.
Till at once his neighbor shook open the door,
And looked out at the man he had never seen before.
They each stared blankly at one another,
Until the man could no longer stutter.
"No reason here for my being at your door,
Just curious as to the man who lived here before."
The neighbor stared blankly at the man he'd never seen,
Pondering if he himself should scream.
"No sir, you must be mistaken tonight,
I am the only resident here for the years spite."
The man stood coldly, very shaken with hate,
And felt his hands squeeze against the neighbor's weight.
The neighbor's neck at once had snapped,
And he fell to the floor with one fall rapt.
Walking silent as the cold winter despair,
the man came back into his evening chair.
Why he came to the neighbor's house,
We may never know,
But he sat pondering and pondering to and fro.
A rapping came onto the man's door,
"This is only a dream," the man thought to himself,
"'Tis a dream and nothing more."