We poets, We never die, We never get old, or is a thing of time. Time is with us, Because we set times, we decide when time move, and when it moves... We move for an eternal time...
I used a black sharpie to write a love poem on your arm Hoping the ink would sink into depths causing little to no harm That the rough words may permeate through your tough skin And the permanence may prove that forever starts from within That the black is dark enough to hide all your scars from being used And that my words are evidence and proof of my love for you
So let that ink sink as deep as it might My words peirce your soul without a fight My sharpie art fill you with awe and an imaginative spark Be inspired by my loving words and the permanent scar they leave on your heart You may forget my face, you may forget my name but **never forget where my love made its mark
this poetess known as Elizabeth Squires with ways of writin' by waves to admire the one i read here caught my attention managin' all styles of apprehensions
for i love all of her works she gets penned i say readin' her poems i find well spent by her, learnin' beauties of Rosarians i dared attemptin' to the rotarian
this writin' to her, for she to inspire seein' as one of my inspirations it's hers becomin' as musin' impends bein' it against or pro-contrarian
i am a fan of this amazin' ma'am hopin' she'll keep blessin' us with her slams