I want someone to love me.

Is that crazy?

Is that stupid?

Is it dumb to want just one

Really real romance

Just like the movies

Even if it destine to fail?

Am I crazy for just once

Wanting to hear the words

"I love you"

From a lover and not a friend.

Is it stupid to want someone

To be my happy ending,

Even if it just turns into

Sobs at three am for them?

I know I've never been a romantic,

Expecially not a rom-com one,

But even I, as gross as I am,

Would like a loving embrace

Or a tender kiss,

Or even someone to hold my hand.

I dunno, maybe I am just

That one imaginative person

Always hoping for things

That will never ever happen.

Let me not

have lived life

for naught,

leaving no mark

showing I’ve been here,

to not have time

to rectify mistakes,

but the biggest fear

is living life

without you -

your warm embraces,

your warped sense of humor,

the way you laugh

with complete abandon,

watching silly comedies

holding your sides

as you belly laugh,

no holds barred,

your need to learn

and grow and interact

and watch the birds

of life careening

across your vision.

I want to hold

you to me,

never let you go,

erase the pain

from your existence.

I am very afraid

but blessed

to have you

for as long

as you are there.

#Challenge #IWantYouThere #LetMeTellYou

is that it is okay.

Let the emotions flow.

Sadness is expected.

Your anger is normal.

Fear comes with the unknown.

Embarrassment dies out.

Cancer is scary. Mourn.

Poems have no bounds

From setting sun to high sea

That is why I'm free.

Freedom from strict rules

Freedom from Conformity

Freedom's not for fools.

Poetry's Science

Of not just rhythm and rhyme

Nor a waste of time.

Haiku are nifty

But don't misinterpret me

Poet's style is key

Sonnets to ballads

Odes through Epics and Free Verse

But now I digress.

You, me, Poetry

What an interesting theme

Here I go...rhyme scheme.

Free, Fi, Fro and From

Ask not where the poems come.

Ask not why the pen does write,

Ask not when under candle light.

Ask not what the words do mean,

Ask not if the writer’s keen.

Ask not how the lines do rhyme,

For this is the Poet’s Crime.

My Paintings were Poor

And my Photos fell flat

My Novels did bore

And my Acting went splat.

My music was bland

And my playing was painful.

My dancing was remand

And my sculpting was at best pitiful

The only Art I excelled

As seen through my eye.

Was to make words meld

From the scenes of the earth and sky

Now I am not saying “I’m great,”

I’m nowhere near that goal.

But I do wish to litigate

And jump that pole.

I’m currently studying to be an attorney

And practice in New York and New Jersey.

So when did I first become a poet?

I guess it was around 7th grade

When first I was assigned it

A poem about me without aide.

Not an easy thing to do

But with a little time and an old typewriter

I made a breakthrough

After pulling an all-nighter

With poem called “Do you Know me?”

A mix of Seuss and Shakespeare

And read like Dead Sea debris.

A little something that might hurt to hear.

From there, my subject matter grew

“No Free Ride,” “Bass Fishing” and more

To the stars I gave a thank you

Odes about the rain to tales of folklore

I dabbled in history

The Red Baron to the “Silent Warehouse”

Ballads of liberty and honor, not regret or misery.

I have laid down about to drowse

But awakened by ideas, concepts, rhymes and riddles

Flushing through my mind

Like bows across old country fiddles.

The Muse is not kind

To let me keep my previous thoughts

So forced I am to record

For fear of memory knots

And lose ground explored.

Of the multitude of styles I used

The Epic was by far my ultimate task.

An Invocation I was bemused

My frustration I had to mask.

Homer and Dante lit the way

But none as helpful as Milton’s “fall.”

A theme not too removed nor too cliché

A man’s climb from his own end’s thrall.

Now it’s not complete

Only a few chapters to go

But my mind is deplete

My thoughts are at a status quo.

But let’s not get off track

So what is poetry to me?

Poetry is a Napoleon cognac

Odists turning puddle into the sea

Every word is worth its weight

There are no equals

Romans, Greeks and others of late

Yet why must we record virtues and evils

I know the poet’s vice

Study, practice and write...a costly price

Looking for meaning

In every little thing

From the end back to the beginning

Even if it’s demeaning.

So here is my guilty plea

Poetry has is a piece of me

My body and soul, even at my own chagrin.

This is my poet’s sin.

There are so many things I want to say, but my words are caught in the back of my throat. Ideas stored away in the back of my mind, but they stay there. I really can speak, but people don't understand. I am different from them. My brain works in a way that makes it difficult to express myself in a way they would understand. Scattered thoughts roam around in my head that can collect on a page, but not in my mouth. I can't get people to listen because people won't read. Either they won't or I won't allow them too. The thing I want to say is listen. Listen to the silence, because it speaks volumes. Read... read because sometimes the only way to express yourself comes in metaphors and similes. Read because each piece of literature is a piece of myself buried in text. Read because that is where my voice lies. Listen.

The thing I want to say is you be you.

Be the person you were made to be,

for this is honest and true.

The thing I want to say is love you

before you love another.

It will make you a better sister,wife, and mother.

The thing I want to say is to trust your strength,

Trust that you can go the distance,

and your knowledge can stretch the length.

The thing I want to say is it's all about you.

It's all about the things you say

And all the things you do.

Just because I’m quiet doesn’t mean I’m lonely.

Just because I’m different doesn’t mean I’m crazy.

Just because I’m selfless doesn’t mean I’m self-conscious.

Just because I don’t talk to you doesn’t mean I hate you.

Just because I smile doesn’t mean I’m happy.

Just because.

Why?

Why you do this?

Why do you make me feel worthless?

Why do you make me feel angry?

Why do you get to control my life?

Why are you damaging me?

Making me go so far that I cannot be reached.

You have hurt me beyond anything

You have left me in the dark

You have left me crying

You have left me bleeding

You have left me alone

I would never do this to you

when you need help I help

when you need a hand I lend one

I never hurt you

I never gave you any reason to do this

So every day I ask

Why me?

I tried. I drank, I smoked, I kissed, I fell in love with someone else. But I can't rid myself of you. From the moment we met, you settled beneath my skin, and there you've stayed for six years -- even though we haven't spoken for the last four.

If we never see each other again, I just want you to know that I've never stopped thinking about you. Habitually, compulsively, against my will, I think of you. And you will always be my greatest, most terrible "what if?"

My friends sort of warned me about all this, but I'm stupid, and I didn't listen to them, so I guess I have to face the consequences. So here I am, wondering what I would tell you if I could at this point, and I've come up with the following.

I want to tell you that it's not okay to hurt people, and I want to tell you that treating people like you "don't owe them anything" is inherently hurtful. I want to tell you that other people have problems too, and they can't always focus on yours. I want to tell you that I'm a person with thoughts and emotions and needs and that I can't help that I get upset over hurtful things sometimes, but I also want to tell you that forgiving people helps everyone, and that holding grudges is completely your choice and in your control. I want to tell you that generally, more things are in your control than you think, and that you're wrong about how you "can't help" that you're this or that.

I want to tell you that you are who you wish to be. I want to tell you that just saying "I'm sorry" doesn't help anything if you don't even know what you're sorry for. I want to tell you that acting on impulses is stupid. I want to tell you that you have to put in effort to not repeat your mistakes, and that you have more power over yourself than you think. I want to tell you that manipulation is wrong and constantly questioning people's intentions towards you makes everyone miserable. I want to tell you that sometimes, you have to put others ahead of yourself, and "looking out for yourself" isn't an excuse for being a jackass.

But hey, if I told you this, I would never be able to tell you anything ever again. So I'll stay quiet and continue to face the consequences.