She knew I hated cigarettes, right down to her nicotine breath, she really wanted to get back, she made threats I would never love again, my heart in her hand, she split it in two right down the middle, now each side placed on her two nightstands, both covered in ashes from her put out cigarettes, not just of hers but her many lovers too, my heart now her ashtrays

To smile
To hug
To be grateful
To cry
To be angry
Sometimes you need to carefully explode
so you can carry through
Take your turn
and your time

C@rainbowchaser2021

The precision is musical and lyrical
You write it and it falls into place
The craft and development can be instantaneous or time consuming
But then you get it right there is nothing quite like it
Heard it compared to an ****** but won't go there
Guess things keep giving differently
Being able to write and create
Nothing quite like it
The words find me and they sing their song
differently every single time until it clicks,
makes sense
That's when it becomes poetry
From this Poet's heart to yours

C@rainbowchaser2021

Time is a barrier to progress
It allows procrastination
Major changes take too long
The small things seem more relevant
Performed in an instant
Through them all is achievable