A poem—
is just one more
scrap of paper
that has sailed off the table
in a bottle
with a cry for help.

i went outside to find
poetry in bloom:
floral letters falling from trees,
creating their own narrative.
whispy words pollunated
my inspiration while
phrases buzzed past me
swarms of thoughts as
i watched the world
off writing grow
and come alive.

I crave a certain high,
the one I get
from the butterflies
that dance in
my stomach
whenever I see you.  
My parents warned me
about drugs on the street,
but never about the ones
with a heartbeat.

she dances on the soles of her exhausted feet
moving her arms with grace and femininity
she kept her balance as the beads of sweat ran down her forehead
with great posture she bowed and no one clapped, so she remained graceful and left the stage

It's like cooking something for the first time,
burning your hand and never wanting to cook again.
Even though you know what you would cook deserves to be on the menu of some five star restaurant. One that lovers go to, to sip fine wine and stare off at the sunset as they learn how to fall in love all over again. You still can't bring yourself to do it. You can't turn on the stove because every time you do that same fiery sensation rushes through your veins, reminding you what it's like to burn. You shutter, trying to think what life would be like if you never turned the stove on in first place.

You read my poetry in an attempt to understand me
versus an attempt to read literature
or fiction
or art
So you pick apart each sentence
and each syllable
and each subject
and you try so hard to figure me out
You want to know what I was thinking when I wrote this poem
or that poem
but what that tells me is perhaps you aren't even reading them at all
Although what poets express comes from the debths of our creative closets and emotional state
you must still open up your mind and soak up the words for what they are
Not for who I am

it's hard to think of
your own faults
when others
have larger ones.

it's hard to pray
for yourself
when someone needs
it more.

this week i realized,
that when i am depressed,
other people bring out
my grace.

when my friends talk about you,
my heart stops,
and no words come out.

but when i am with you,
my heart thumps,
and my actions & words get loud.

I miss you more than the sun and the rainbow,
I miss you more as this hurt and pain grows,
I wish to be with you, right now 
But sadly, I got to wait a while 

I miss you more than the festive season,
I miss someone and you're the reason,
I can't wait to see your smile,
But sadly I got to wait a while, 

I know that you're reading this right now 
And I hope you're wearing a big smile 
Even though this poem may not be perfect 
Understand it's my first attempt 

As the tears roll down my cheeks 
I'm in this mood and it is so bleak 
I know these rhymes don't make sense 
But my thoughts right now are quite dense 

I'll improve on my romantic rhymes 
Even though I don't make a dime 
But that doesn't matter 
What matters is 
You and I