(2014)
Can I have another chance? To know you, To love you, To let your love rain down on me? Did I miss the storm?
More than words can say, I swear… A phrase so easily put into words… Even though the beauty of you illu… Even you shut your eyes and hide a… Even you choose to disguise
Keep it to yourself And watch them be offended Tell them And be overlooked
There are some things I’ve writte… I hope I never have to read again But I do not forget, I’ll have to find myself again Someday
Every time I see you, there is so… Like the way your aroma gives me c… And how it feels to wanna kiss you… To wanna love you right but so una… Or how it hurts when you walk away…
I don’t like flashbacks Because often times they are the b… You know, the ones where your hear… Or the ones that replay in your he… The ones you want to go back and c…
Temptations exude, bleed out On to the carpet which I call my… Conscience distorted Lust evident Yet one thing remains
I would have written a poem with t… But he doesn’t move me With him, I am either standing st… Maybe we just need to talk Maybe that’s it
I’m walking with my eyes closed to… And my chest open Thought I’d feel the breeze throu… Making sounds like wind chimes Wanted to feel the warmth of the s…
It’s like there is a whole part of… We crave love and endearing attent… So we dream We long, that one day fate will le… That the collection of doubt and t…
All types of writing has guideline… All poetry seems to have some sort… Vocabulary must be up to par, Each stanza having its specific or… The way I see it,
Hey, tall brown girl You gave me confidence When my head was held low you lift… Hey, tall brown girl With those stallion legs
It’s like we’re meeting for the ve… Like you were never mine And I was never yours Hugging me, holding me Like you’ve never seen me before
I guess it started a long time ago… Me giving away my happiness for a… I guess I never had an independen… and try as I may, I still don’t h… I still seek the approval of the o…
Nothing can take the place of a fr… Ink stains on fingertips, Side swept paper cuts, And long sleepless nights Remember that a poet is nothing wi…