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I dream of dancing with you.
Although, I'm not exactly good at it.
I dream about just us two,
Dancing and moving together, sounds fun, I'll admit.

I would love to dance,
as long as it's with you.
I'd give dancing a chance,
if you taught me how to.

I'm sorry if I step on your feet.
I'm not the best dancer.
I'll try to move with the beat,
I'll distract you from her.
Dancing never really was my thing.
Do you ever write something
So good
That you feel like you've peaked
As a writer?
And everything from then on
Is a question in your head?

Maybe you should never
Pick up a pencil again
Because your writing career
Has already been wrapped up
Tightly with a bow

Maybe you planned to be a poet
Get a proper creative writing degree
And forever make a living
Off the rhythm of words
But every idea now
Seems like a steaming pile of ****
Compared to your last masterpiece
So it just sits
Rotting in your brain
Until you stink
With a lack of genuine creativity

Maybe you've written so much
That your rhymes
Begin to sound tired
And overused
But if you don't rhyme
It sounds as if you've gotten lazy
So no matter what you put down
The effort doesn't show

Maybe writing about the ordinary
Seems boring
But writing the extraordinary
Has already been done
And every option in between
Seems like a cheap plagiarism

Maybe your standards got too high
And people expect more from you
So every ounce of energy you have
Is wasted on doubting yourself
Until you're too exhausted
To write at all

Maybe you dreamt too big

Maybe quitting while you're ahead
Sounds better than actually trying

Maybe the emptiness you feel
When you don't write
Is worth not risking failure

Maybe saying goodbye
To your dreams now
Will be easier
Than a downward spiral
From the inability
To write something better than before

Or maybe
You're just overthinking it.
Wow, the feedback I'm getting from this poem is amazing. Tbh, THIS was one of the poems I had written that I doubted and almost didn't publish cuz I thought it wasn't good enough.

Moral of the story. Keep writing no matter what. Some things will suprise you.
My woman & I were romantically linked for some time when her sister appeared out of nowhere like a motor cyclist. The sister was nice, pushy, but nice. At first I brushed it off as kidding, but the second time the sister took off her clothes and demanded that I “tunnel to Egypt,” I figured that she wanted me for ****** purposes.
Her smile caught my eyes,
Whilst her dreams alone captured
Every piece of me.
Dark alleys
are for catious lovers.
Cigarette butts littered
the asphalt
when his lips met mine.

He stole my breath
as easily
as he creeps
into thought.
So powerfully
that
constalations collapse.

Shadows danced
encircling us
teasing of our secret.
Cigarette smoke rising
clinging to me
along with his scent
and affection.

He must have
been carved by God's
and cursed by Ruin.
Fallen to this earth
as a cast away.
His eyes
say so much..

In his arms
I felt
everything
all at once.
The ground shifting
under my feet.
This alley
forever imprinted
with this moment.
I have a way with words
that is why you took me home
that is why you cooked me breakfast
that is why you asked me back.

I have a way with words
that is why you are there
that is why you hold me tight
that is why you never judge me.

I have a way with words
that is why you stay around
that is why you laugh at my jokes
that is why you miss me.

I have a way with words
my only regret is...
...you will never get to hear them.

© Pagan Paul (2016/2017)
.
Old Poem
.
 Aug 2017 Nathaniel Farréll
Jett
We spent the time on our backs
engulfed in blankets and your computer light
and I slept while you worked
your brother made me a tv dinner
and i asked you why you treat me this way
on the drive home
I can't remember your answer anymore
but i know I held my tears until I made it
to the front door
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