Dear Lover

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Please feed my soul or I’ll be forced to let go

Wasted are my thoughts. Thoughts of those who weren’t worth my time. Empty shells have come knocking, but once they saw my spirit they fled, leaving less then dust behind. There is one, who is different from the rest.

He does more than feed my soul, he nourishes my psyche. He loves me wholeheartedly. I whispered words of affection into his ear. And he asked me to say them aloud, strong and clear.

“Dance with me, transcend with me, challenge me, be everything I ask you to be, be more than what I ask you to be, be song and dance for not me, but for you. Be life and death with me, progress with me, kill time with me, intertwine both our minds for me, smile with me, cry with me.

For you, I would write a million poems because there are simply not enough words to describe the type of being you are.”

Some say truth hurts and a lie is bittersweet, but I would rather you, be honest and kind to me. Say what you mean, don’t be silent because in this moment, there exist just you and I. In this space we share, this small amount of time. We are in unison in almost every kind of way. We are limited, when it comes to how long we stay. And he never calls me beautiful, because beauty never lasts. But he calls me, his and I tell him every night that he is mine. For we are flawed and free, but unlike our flesh, this love will always be.

The boy who spoke with the Ocean

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Once upon a time, there lived a boy.

He sometimes wished he could be like everyone else. He wished he could live an interesting life. Live in the moment, be wild, crazy and humorous. But he was none of those things, nothing close to it. He laid awake on countless nights wondering, why do he felt things so deeply? Why hold on, when others so easily let go. Why did he care so much?

“I’m not special, so why can’t I connect. Why can’t I find someone who understands. Someone who listens. Truly listens.” He thought quietly.

He would go from home to school and then back again, except on Sundays. On Sundays he would explore the forest behind the white picket fence, that ended the property his family owned. His family didn’t have a whole lot, but they were content. The boy on the other hand longed for more. He would spend much his Sundays wandering the forest, looking for answers to his questions. Only to hear nothing but, the forest’s silent reply. Everyone he had ever met always fell too short of what he needed. He went on through life hoping to have his questions answered. Only to find disappointment and vexation.

One day he decided to run far away from home. And he did, he ran pass the skyscrapers that the touched the sky, pass anyone he would ever recognize. Now nothing that surrounded him was familiar. Ahead there was a field of tall grass that led him straight to the ocean. He sat down in the sand looking straight ahead into the immense sea. “I’ve been everywhere, met what seems like everyone, but still my questions go unanswered. Why must it be this way?” He sighed. Looking down at his feet, he picked up a nearby seashell and toss it into the the water. “You’ve come for answers, and it is answers you shall receive.” The ocean whispered. “You have been searching your whole life for an explanation to why you are the way you are. So tell me child, have you found your answer while searching outwardly?” “Well no…” The boy replied.

“So tell me, why have you continued to search for something in the physical world. When the answer lies inside of you? No two people are alike. Some are more connected to purpose than others, but if you continue to try and find happiness and comfortability in others, you will always be displeased. So look deep into my current and learn from what it is you see. Love, evolve and grow. But do not expect others to come on this journey with you. Because this journey was crafted just for you. Human beings will always let you down, if you attach them to your happiness. So don’t expect more, just be more and the rest of the world will follow.” The ocean howled. The boy sat confused for a moment, but then stood up on his feet, stretching his arms to the sun. “Thank you, great mighty ocean. I should be heading home now. I’ve got a lot to discover!” The boy said with a grin. The ocean smiled back with a crashing wave. “The sun will set tonight, but it will rise again every morning. And so will you.”

When she calls

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When she calls, you must decide whether or not you will answer. She resides in all of us, calling us all back to the depths from which we came. She is inside the soul, and she is calling us home. So if you are looking for me, you’ll find me in the mountains or by the sea, maybe with my head in books or surrounded by trees. Either way you’ll now know where to look. I am home. A chapter in Mother Nature’s book.

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I’m slowly forgetting the sound of your voice, the curve of your lips. I’m slowly forgetting the feeling of your arm hair brushing just slightly against mine. And with it, all these small inconsequential memories. I’m slowly losing interest in everything. I don’t listen really, I don’t listen to anything or anyone. Nothing excites me anymore, no small sparks of passion to keep me on my feet throughout the day. I don’t even really enjoy music either, not like I once did. The sound of it leaves me feeling, a tad bit numb. All I can do is write words, words that when formed together aren’t even good enough to be typed onto a blank page. But that’s all that’s left, a vacant space, a hole. I often wonder why it has come to this. It’s no one’s fault, but my own really..Why did I allow myself to fall in? Why must all beautiful things end in tragedy? Why must they end at all? For what is a writer without beauty? For what is a poet without tragedy?

For a poet without a muse, no longer has a reason to write.

But write they must.

And I will,

even if it means, no longer writing for you.

There are no thunderstorms in California

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There are no thunderstorms in California.

Oh, how I adore the smell of the wet warm earth after a storm. How I would wait to hear thunderous crackle, to see the sparks forged from the sky. But nothing.

There are no thunderstorms in California.

Sometimes, I close my eyes and imagine your sound. I imagine the raindrops that would gently kiss my skin, opening my pores in the most delightful way. I would jump, puddle to puddle racing through the tall grass. Just me and the elements. Once the lightning struck, I would then run into a small stone home. Where it would be warm inside from the fireplace, just in the living room. What a perfect mixture of smoked wood and petrichor. If you open all the windows, you could get a view of the long stretch of land, never ending. Silently, I would watch as the Heavens struck Earth.

There are no thunderstorms in California, but when I close my eyes anything is possible.

The creator

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There’s nothing I want more than to be closer to my creator. For you have shaped my skin and bone. Made every beauty mark and scar. You stretched out the subtle space between my two front teeth. You made my hair so wild, it even defies gravity, and my skin the very shade of the earth, that we walk upon.

All this, so that I would remember to love myself, never settling for less than I deserve. You made sure to send people into my life who would help teach me, patience. Molded me with kindness and fire, so that I could push through adversity. You made a rough draft of my life, crumbled it up into a ball and said, I’ll let her decide. Whether she will or will not follow all my signs.

Love me either way, but constantly remind me that really, truth and raw beauty lies inside.

boys

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i hate boys

some make me feel like im not wanted

some make me feel like a toy

some think my soul doesn’t add up with the body that my spirit decided to enjoy

some think im a weirdo, they’re right i am

some are intimidated, they run away because they are scared

some no matter how much i do, don’t seem to care

some want me physically

none want me spiritually

so ill hate boys until the death of me

I wonder what it’s like to meet a Man.