Poetry

Butterfly kiss, soft against my skin.

Promises.

Cyclone of feeling, enveloping not just me, but us.

Anticipation.

Honey-brown sunset eyes, on my green hazel.

Confessions.

Today my friend asked me a question.

Would you rather be living a comfortable lie,

or know an uncomfortable truth?

I wanted to say, The truth. Always.

But what if that's not true?

my horoscope said i would lose someone dear to me,

you've never really believed in that astrology,

but i click on yours, and what i see staring back

Every night I dream of a door that would take me back to my past...

A door that would lead me to the old me, the me I used to be...

The dark winter months

How much longer will it take

For spring’s warm sunshine?

Waves crash on the shore

Roaring up with a large splash

Shoot all the bullets your cold visions desire,

shoot your anger away

to reel in the reputation you'll live with

until you die.

She wakes in the early morning

And stares at the wall across from her 

A sense of fear overtakes her

Beginning in the pit of her stomach

And spreading to each limb

Coating her in feeling 

There are some in this world who long to be gargoyles 

grotesques and Gorgons with rough, jagged claws 

hides thick and tough as stone 

When someone is sick, we say they're on Death's doorstep.

But aren't we always?

People always act like we're so far away from death.

But really we're not.

as im writing poems i fall in love with them

but as soon as i stop it’s all gone

and i feel like im copying someones work

some idea

i have a zombie face

some don’t understand what that is

i consider that it means that my neutral face is grumpy

that i am perpetually angry or upset

First step:

Come up with an idea

something you spiral

circulate around

carve your name and your life into a treble clef

what inspires you?

Second step:

Google note patterns