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Art

I might not be very good at this

But when you make art,

Does it hurt?

Does it scream

Not to make you work?

It might not make sense;

It might not flow,

It might resonate within you,

But you know,

IT SCREAMS IN ME,

It yells “MAKE ART”

IT TELLS!

It tells you who you are

It tells you where you’ve been.

It tells you all the wonders

Hidden within.

Messy font,

Hurried whims.

You don’t know how to begin

But HERE WE ARE!

Half way through

All these truths you wish you knew

All these dreams we outgrew.

Where are you now?

I guess, you never really knew.

But we’ll move on

To places we’ve never been

And we’ll love poems

We’ve never seen,

And all those years remembered; cried

Are all those fears we never knew were lies

All those moments

Lost and gone

All those hands

Never felt strong.

Hold them;

Feel them;

Remember the days ,

That meant everything.

But them.

Cause youll never know,

What’s come and gone,

Until we have all moved On,

To greater things,

Like Dusk and Dawn,

Like every life

Come and gone

To say goodbye

To things you’ve lost.

True love comes at a cost

That a heart May never understand,

But my heart

You hold in your hand

And, so believe, I’ll be here

In your heart

I’ll be very sorry

For being there

But I deserved

LOVE LIKE THIS.

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The Poem No One Knows

Callosed toes on callosed feet
A poem no one knows
Walking down the street
Longing lines and winding rhymes
Written on my face
In a language no stranger could read
A coded journal kept just for me.
If you listen close, I’ll read it out loud
Over coffee, while watching the stars
While I sing in the shower,
While we make love in the dark.
Listen closely to the silence
of a Saturday afternoon.
Those moments scream parts of me,
And whisper others.
But the greatest parts are in my eyes,
In my song,
In the poem no one knows.

Late Night Thoughts That Don't Make Sense

Joys of a Lava Lamp

Life is constant change. Always rolling, turning chaos 

It’s hard to see the beauty when you’re falling, like a giant blob, right to the bottom of the tank. 

At the end of a long day; in a dark, smokey room; it’s a calming chaos. The colours, bubbles, random patterns. 

Constant ebb and flow. Movement. Life. Looking at it from the outside in, it’s beautiful. 

-Late night dark thoughts trying to see the light