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cold outside but I'm barely freezing
i'm awake but I keep on dreaming
let me hold your hand, all through the seasons
in lost chaos you are my reason

a smile could light up a room
but in my world yours shines like the moon
you're my north star, guide through the oceans
sweet sorceress let me drink your potions

how could i leave you
when you trap me with every look you do?
how could i walk away
when my heart's glued to every word you say?

i'm keeping your form around me
lost in the artistry of your hair
life's a game meant for partners
i want you to be my pair.
I tried writing from-the-heart poetry
(only editing spelling, writing with no specific goal in mind other than to express)
This is the result hahaha.
My fingers may not know a guitar
And I might never raise the bar
But I'm trying to be the man
That can do all he can
To be with you

I know my heart finds no directions
It can get lost in storms of affection
So I put this song together
So even if in stormy weather
I can sing it and remember
You

Cause you're beautiful even when you deny it
And the night skies in your eyes just seem to cry it
And your hair falls down like waterfalls
Your voice a singing bird with melodic calls
My heart's a kite, and for the night, fly it

Let your scars sing their secrets
I'll be holding you safe from all the threats
And maybe as we walk the beaches
Remembering blessings and curses
We can smile at our perfect messes
And I'll sing to you

You're beautiful even when you deny it
And the night skies in your eyes just seem to cry it
And your hair falls down like waterfalls
Your voice a singing bird with melodic calls
My heart's a kite, and for the night fly it.
Apologies for my previous poems, they were uninspired.
See, what happened is that I found someone, yet I still wrote about heartbreak and sadness.
But now, as she becomes all I think about, I realize I can write poems about her.
Love can do mysterious things, can't it?
I'm white.
I don't know what it's like
to have a black son
and wonder if he'll get shot
on a walk down the block
because his skin
camouflages him
into the night.

I am white.
I don't know what it is
to fear shots
from the gun barrels of the cops
hired to protect and serve
"us" from "them"
thick boots stomping the block--

cops more **** than Trayvon,
more **** than Mike,
more **** than the pre-teen
with a BB gun
robbed of his life.

I am white.
I don't know how it feels
to bleed out in the streets,
the fruit of my veins
soaking into scorched tar,
my still-open eyes seared
by the August sun.

I don't know how it feels
to lie there, dead,
an echo of ancestors
dangling from trees,
from light poles,
sunk into the Tallahatchie
with barbed wire and a cotton gin fan.

I am white.
Our history is filled with pale devils
enslaving races,
seizing lands,
killing millions--

so if someone's going to get shot,
maybe it ought to be one of us.
Just a stream-of-consciousness rant that I needed to get out.
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