Verse and Meter

I have to look inside myself to see who I am.

I am.

I wasn’t, not really.

Not really intact, not really whole, not really a person. A person feels, but I didn’t.

I didn’t feel because boys don’t get to cry, and sometimes it’s better not to let the tears fall,

because they’ll only cause


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Pin me to something and kiss me

over and over like verses of poetry

each kiss an element in the story

between us.

Like water; liquid and flowing:

like rain, cool and crisp and clear,

washing away the world’s haze

sweet and refreshing and so very wet;

like snow, still and pure and gen...

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Listen. Love is a conversation, though not always with words. Feel the way the air changes when emotions flare - warm and comforting and sensual or cold and thin and bleak - these are reflections of your end of the string, and the cans are only so big.

Speak. Conversations have more than one parti...

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My home is a noisy place.

My mind is a noisy place.

My life is a noisy place.

But midnight. Midnight is quiet. Midnight is the peace deep in each of us that is always there, sometimes so deep we forget. Sometimes it takes a peace just as deep to find it again.

Midnight is quiet, but my life...

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come on then, if you can

pin me with your tongue

ravish my mouth, bite my lips

kiss me breathless, make me gasp

your name, forget my own

sink your teeth

into my neck, claim me

if you can

make me howl

your name

a prayer to the moon

rising like our mingled pulse

full and bright...

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