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She was the fighter, the rebel
Hidden behind cherry lips
Pale and slender, a voice that would make you surrender
With eyes like an eclipse

Carefully plotted schemes she carried,
Delicate steps she always took
Armed with an army of mischievous intentions
She played the good girl well, but she was undoubtedly a crook

Ask any man, he'll tell you so
She had a reputation like no other
If you'd met her, you'd surely wish you hadn't
They call her the Heart Hunter.
 Nov 2016 Vincent Jabre
Ma Cherie
I am a sinner,
and I know it,
& I'm OK with it,

I have made the necessary changes,
to ward of any evil,
a crucifix,

You are coming to me,
I feel it,
& :
I await,
the taste of it,
in
the taste of your skin,
& sweat

So luscious,
& delicious,
& emmmm,
so yummy,

As I taste the night,
as I taste  
the bitter & sweet
of yesterday,

Again.

Cherie Nolan © 2016
Lovely thought, isn't it?
 Oct 2016 Vincent Jabre
Just Melz
Love* can conquer all
But so can *war

So be careful
What you wish for
 Oct 2016 Vincent Jabre
Ma Cherie
Inside my heart
nothing else there but stars
glassy broken pieces it beats in shards,
inside I fear it's growing hard,

Ever-knowing,
& ever-growing
as the light inside is ever-glowing,

I continue to turn into diamonds,
every day I wait for the night
ever-pining
the ever-shining,

in your brilliant,
distant,
waxing & waning
Moon.

Cherie Nolan© 2016
: )
 Oct 2016 Vincent Jabre
Rapunzoll
my mother always said
"don't fall in love with a poet"
they pretend to love you
but what they really love
is writing about loving you
you are mere words to them
feelings cheapened by a page,
dusty grey typewriters,
and many unfinished drafts
of lovers both old and new,
you are the question mark,
but not the answer,
they are searching for ?
person unidentified: mystery
the page wanderer,
each poem a missing
person poster to cover their
bedroom walls.
they cannot love something
that is in their head
poets are the loneliest of
all people, my mother said.
they write to immortalize
what has long passed.
to live within their words,
but not reality,
lost souls writing suicide notes
and proclaiming it art.
© copyright

NOTE: i've noticed people sharing this to other sites without having spoken to me about it beforehand, I do not give permission for this and all poems are copyright, keep this in mind.

------------------------------------------------
my mother never actually said this to me, but i figure i'll probably end up saying it one day if i have children.

it's pessimistic yes, but i know there are exceptions. please don't take to heart. it's more a criticism of myself than all poets. :)
 Oct 2016 Vincent Jabre
SG Holter
You may be more beast than
Man in their eyes; bearded,
Scarred, too tattooed,
History of violence,

History of summoning tears.
But you'll dig a grave for our
Loved ones with your own
Two hands, bruised knuckles

Around hickory and hard
Plastic. So we can relax and
Cry.
You've wrestled huge, angry

Enemies, and won.
Your hugs are epic.
You have taken lives. You have
Arms to hold galaxies.
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