I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)

I need you to be alright
I still need you to teach me so many things
I cannot go on without you
Do not leave me
Please.

In the cold, dark
        of January,
         I remembered
              you
        the most.
  As the chill
      snapped bones
              like branches,
     as the afternoons
   bathed themselves
in gray,
     as the birds
and the backs
      shook,
so did my lips
   around your name.
I'm so happy
     January is almost
over now.

When I was a child,
I was taught poetry wasn't mild,
It was deep as the sea,
And it seemed truly unachievable for me.
I was taught poetry had to rhyme,
Every single line, every single time.
So poetry seemed out of my reach,
Like chasing a seagull down a beach,
Jumping ever so slightly away,
Or soaring into the sunny day.

So I never thrived for what I thought would,
No, Could
Never be.

I guess now I'm fixing the mistakes of past me.

Let my silence teach you

what my words

did not

On our journey to neverland
Where nothing goes our way
Whilst an unknown person paves the way
And gives us things we don't understand
-
Will always came a drop of moonlight
A silver lining, when we lose all our might
A charm that would let us cross the river
A trinket that makes the fogs clearer

It takes the most random form
And shines even in hailstorm
It brings the best out of you,
A cause of your breakthrough

If you stumble and lost your charm
Remember, he, don't mean no harm
It might be a moral, or reform
To achieve one's greatest art form

Tiny cheesecake
You are such a delight
A tiny morsel
Three bites all mine
Once I find that pesky fork of mine