Does anyone else completely cover their arms in words if they have access to a pen? :P

Does anyone else stay up really late like the badass they are... to read novels in the dead of the night? :P

Does anyone else insist it isn't that cold outside and refuse to wear a thick jacket then find out it actually is freaking freezing out but refuse to admit it and think oh well, my pride will keep me warm! ...omfg im an icicle.

Does anyone else read a text from someone then have to google what one of their abbreviations or words or slangs mean instead of just asking them so they don't feel stupid?

Does anyone else laugh at RIDICULOUSLY stupid things, but can hardly breathe they are laughing so hard?

Does anyone else get that feeling where you just want to jump right out of bed? HA! yeah, me neither.

sleep with me
in the most innocent sense of the word.
lay by my side
and envelop me
in the sanctuary of your arms.

let me leech your heat
and bury my face into your chest.
run your fingers down my spine
and whisper sweet nothings into my hair.

play with my hair
and hold me close.
sing softly to me
as my eyelids droop.

take me with you
into the dream land
where love is easy
and i can kiss you without interruption.

wake me up with butterfly kisses
and morning breath that smells sweet to me.
kiss me on the nose before you get out of bed
and tell me you'll see me tonight.

i'll lay by myself
in a bed that's cold now
and count the seconds
until i get to sleep with you again.

The trees are about to show us how lovely it is to let the dead things go.

Find a Poet Not a poser, not a "it's just a hobby" poet. Find one who mumbles lines as they scramble for a pen at breakfast; who shakes their head randomly when their thoughts aren't rhyming properly;  who has notebooks stashed around the house that you must never touch.
2. Listen Savor the spoken words, for those are harder to express. Keep in mind that they can't be edited and re-written, and be forgiving when a mistake is made.
3. Read The body speaks as loudly as words on a page do. When their eyes are closed or focused on the ceiling and the fingers are tapping out syllables, recognize the unique process. Respect the need for quiet, because if you look closely, you can read the poem on their face before they write it on the page.
4. Write Write your story together. Grab hold of the pen and hang on as you move across the page of life. Sometimes you will dance across, others you will be dragged. You may have to cross out a word, or a line, or a page, but don't give up. Discouragement is a poet's biggest enemy, inarticulateness their biggest fear. So end each day with a semi-colon, because the story will never end the way you think it will, and there must be room for more. There is always room for more, more words, more laughter, more tears, more love,
When you love a poet.

I remember:

you, in black lace ******* and
little else, crushed close
by gravity,
weak winter afternoon sunlight
streaming in and out of your car,
HD Netflix in your backseat.
my fingers drumming insistently
upon your collar bone,
my mouth pressed against your shoulder
as I sing so softly in your ear,
a concert for one.
((only you're invited))
your hair all over your bare
back and black
lace wedged up tight against your
muscle. your lips are
cold against my skin and our feet
are ******* freezing and the heater is
all the way up but not nearly enough.
I let my fingers parse through your
vertebrae, Dr. Lecter planning
a meal; slice here,
cleave there, remove viscera, season and
cook: magnifique.
time and history are
mercury in my clenched fist;
my nails are biting into my skin, and
liquid silver moments gone by are
flowing freely from my slackened grip.