poems

all my lifei have looked for poemsto elope with.

all the wordsall the poems know my warm, soft spots.

I believe eros dwells in our innermost being as the spirit of creative expression. To me, eros is a great path that we must walk, a song we listen to, a game that we hunt and enjoy, a lesson to learn, a garden where flowers bloom, a prodigious puzzle to solve, a book to read, a chapter to write, and an ocean to swim in. That__ what eros is to me.

There__ a pressure at all hours of the day only a poem can assuage.

You hid in my ink and guided my hand. You stained the pages with your silence as God wrote the words, "Be still." Yet, my heart's blindness could only write in loud hues of red, "I love you.

I paint the darkness and the silence, You see them as stars and poetry.

When she smiled at me, I felt unborn poems stirring within.

You askif I will write a poemI could,I supposewrite the mostsplendiferousone of allbut notrightnownot whenyour handsare brewingwarmcinnamon teaacross my skinnot when I__trying to imaginewhat might happenif you beganfloweringkissesuponmeMy dear,how canI writea poemwhen I__ alreadyinside one?

Always write exactly what you__e feeling at the exact moment when writing something like poetry or an emotional novel. Put yourself, pour all emotions into your work_make yourself cry, feel joy if you are writing joyful things, feel lovey if it calls for it_just put your heart and soul into all that you do_then you will be a good writer when you can make whoever reads your work, feel." -Nina Jean Slack

all people start tocome apart finallyand there it is:just empty ashtrays in a roomor wisps of hair on a combin the dissolving moonlight.

She had the power to change the world but she couldn't save the one she loved.

I wrote her story because she wanted to live forever and I loved her far more with every word, too much! Even in death her life sought out beauty, for her moments were consumed with love and I could never write such a story without her stars flaming in my heart.

Magic is when you live your life the way you didn__ picture it and leave nothing behind.

Your greatest dreams will always slumber within the vicious depths of fear.

The seed of our love will always cube within the wonder of infinite.

The chaos in me is the chaos in you. Like the love in you is the love in me. So maybe we__e both a little crazy. Enough to believe we__e found where dreams are born and beneath our faults remain a science, where you and I will run away and leave nothing behind.

She got inside me with her story. I could feel her flowing in me and far, faraway I related in parallel. Her smile was a reflection of my own brokenness. It defined buried feelings that I could never ignore.

To be human is to be broken and broken is its own kind of beautiful.