I wear a jacket almost ever day
To hide the little bit
Of my stomach poking out
I notice flat tummies
So I cross my arms over mine

I usually put my hair in my face
So people won't notice my dorky glasses
Sometimes I try to go without them
But its hard to see and read things

I wear a lot of makeup
As an attempt to hide the imperfections of my face
I don't like going without it because
I feel people always stare

I know everyone has things
They don't like about themselves
And you may think differently
But if you try and tell me
I end up not believing you
I think you're just lying to me
So I'll feel better about myself

if they are soul mates
then what are we

With a quill over paper
For muse, we are excavators
We pour out our hearts
So joy, love, peace to impart
To hold a torch over emotional darkness
To fill each others hollowness
Its for the love we write

When we write
We are called poets
A name fitting and right
But your theft just says you are mentally poor
Reducing you further to a mere thief
And nothing close to a P
Not to talk of a poet.

The moon is not a thing you can steal
Trust me its pure folly
That's a dumb idea to conceive
Posting others' poems
Posting like a poet?
Like seriously
How does that sound to 'your' hearing?
DUMB
Even so, to even dare, you must be too dumb to realize its dumb

To acknowledge is not so hard
Its just adding one more line on your pad
I want to deceive myself that you are not too dumb to know that
If you didn't know, now you do.

PS: You could post my poem
That does not make you a poet
It just makes you a thief
Suffice it to say, the worst kind
Without robbing me of the fact that I'm a POET

I am the poem
I refuse to write.

My skin has formed itself
as sedimented book pages,
quietly injecting
our unspoken metaphors
into my bloodstream
of Murakami, of Plath,
of everything that hurt too much
to even whisper to my typewriter.

I am a poet,
and I will type you
into the night sky.

I'm dressed in blue and green today,
the colors of the mighty sea;
the color of the earth and sky,
flow in my veins through me.

Bicyclists climb distant hills,
'neath clouds of silver-grey:
bright dots among the landscape,
pedaling their hearts away.

I've never seen the grass this high,
nor so many shrubs in bloom;
Queen Anne's lace, lupine flowers,
dance in a breezy tune.

The monsoon rains have come,
with all it's frightful power;
with hard and driving force,
instead of just a shower.

Half a year's total comes quite fast,
flash flooding in dry creeks;
but nothing escapes water,
as it's own level it soon seeks.

Then the sun regains its throne,
once more, the sunny reign;
dispelling all dark clouds,
over shadowed plain.

You say it will never work.
We're too different,
yet you still have feelings for me.
You tell me-
you "hate" me.
I make things too complicated.
I just wish you knew-
I love you too.

You called me a god and I believed you and I thought you would always wait for me thought your love for me was infinite texted you drunk because you can't judge me I judge you that's how this works but I remember when you said you were an atheist and I realized that I am a human just like you and when given enough time you can overcome any obstacle and I was the biggest one in your way so you went around me and now I am alone and godless and you have found a new idol and I write about you when I'm drunk I guess that probably tells you something and I love you I just don't know what that means yet please do not forget about me

Sunday morning
Let the Hallelujahs
Come
And let my
Grandma
Tell me
Im a sinner
And im lost
As if
I
Dont
Already
Know