You play with my head
and you **** with my feelings
but my presence you dread
and my face sends you reeling

I'm not your fool
I'm not your tool
I'm not some *****
that you can just lead on

Just leave me alone
take every last stone
and every last bone
I won't be your drone!

Sometimes,  somedays
I just want to fade away
to sink into my poetry
among the lines for all to see
my soul to rest on every word
such dreams, such nonsense it is absurd
but yet I hope to dare
That my work spread everywhere
filled with soul and loved with grace
pushing darkness from this place

Each individual's eyes have a vocabulary and language unique to its own.
But days passed, weeks, and these weeks grew to months.
Your language was one I spoke fluently, and I mine was the same.
Though as I look in your eyes tonight.
I wonder if you can remember again.

I remember looking Into your jade eyes,
Falling asleep to your heartbeat,
It grew to be my favorite lullaby.

Reserved
/rəˈzərvd/
Adjective.
Definition: Kept for a certain purpose or person.
I have a spot for you, it's reserved.
It's vacant, and it has been since you left..
I wish it otherwise, I wish someone was there, filling that gap
but I want you..
And the matter of current events says it will be left as is.
Empty.

This world's crazy,
And my thoughts are growing hazy,
Of how your lips felt against mine,
And how our bodies would intertwine.

Candy canes like flowers sprouted
up and out of sandy plains and
Santa landed squarely, barely
visible.

             My head contains
confessions, but my heart is not
cathartic, and when tears impress
complexion marks like artists' pens
against my face, they start to blend.

                                                        But
Rudolph never pulled a sleigh of
mayors to the capitol, and
Blitzen never severed several
thousand Native captives' calls,
'cause elves are made like Cherokee:
with bones, and eyes, and hearts, and backs that
bleed when they are stabbed.

With glee he sinks his teeth in floured delight,
The roasted beef so tender, and melting cheese so dour,
His eyes alive, and happiness flourishing,
The child so young, knows not a world forlorn.

The rip of meat from shredding teeth,
Pulls away the lunchtime meal, stretching cheese like a broken seal,
His eyes alert, and weathered years showing,
The man now strong, forgets a world forlorn.

Onwards now with finale in sight,
The drink nearly gone, and watch ticking on,
His eyes are weary, his arms reserved,
With age he is slower, but wise from a world forlorn.

Before the finish though, his eyes look up,
So brown they were, but blue they felt,
From Images of life, of love, of glee,
Both golden and grey, he remembers his first bite.

Now with a boyish glow the old man grins,
He takes his last bite and sips his last sip,
He takes a paper and pen, his hat and coat,
And leaves, happy to have lived in a world forlorn.

A loquacious beam from your eyes,
Vibrant sparks from my thoughts let out,
Two hearts  in sweet entanglement,
Create the most ethereal moments.

My itinerant eyes are buzzing bees
Circling your protruding buds so shy
Let the ensuing tunes now lead
Our swelling lips to a kiss interminable.

The tests say 98% neurotic.
The doctor says I'm just passionate.
My parents say I'm too sensitive.
Lovers say I'm too clingy.
I say I'm just ******* crazy.

I feel everything so deeply.
Love is so instense.
Fear is crippling.
Pain is paralyzing.
Joy is euphoria.

Maybe I'm too passionate,
Or emotional,
Or sensitive,
Or whatever.
But I know one thing,
That I'm deeply,
Madly,
Cripplingly,
And euphorically,
In love with you.