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If loving you is a sin
Tell the Devil I'm in
They say love is hard
and I used to believe it
until I loved you.
Love by all means but don't regret
it's not a bed* upon for anyone to fret
* forgive the insinuation
I’d rather write than speak
My pen is always responsive
My ink doesn’t judge my mistakes
My paper doesn’t argue
My lines never cross me
My sentences never disappoint
And my words will never leave me
cannot be bought
cannot be found in stores
cannot be touched
or held in your hands

the gifts I want to give you

are the gifts I meant to give you all along
but did not know how
the gifts I tried to give you but could not,
not enough

the gifts I want to give you

won't warm you body
like a woolen sweater
but will warm your spirit

the gifts I want to give you

won't satisfy your hunger
like a box of chocolates
but will soothe a craving
in your soul

the gifts I want to give you

won't be music
played on a machine
but will stir music
deep in your heart

the gifts I want to give you

won't be a book of words
already written
but will be your own
fresh book for you to fill
with your life

the gifts I want to give you

won't be gadgets or tools
won't fit into a box wrapped
in shiny paper
won't have bright colored
bows or tags

the gifts I want to give you
love
 strength
   self-worth
    acceptance
     a free spirit

are all this and more...

I don't want to give you the sun
I want to give you its light
to warm you
and help you find your way

I don't want to give you the moon
I want to give you the eyes
to see its beauty,
the soul to feel its power

I don't want to give you the stars
I want to give you the desire
to reach for them
yourself

the gifts I want to give you
are all this and more
Maybe
It was the way
Your neon eyes
Lit up in mine
And the world
Glowed a
Kaleidoscope of
Rainbow colours

Maybe
It was being
Wrapped in your
Bronze arms
And feeling so
Very safe
So warm
Next to you

Maybe
It was grey tears
Comforted by your
Soothing voice
That cheers me on
Rubbing out the dull
Rendering me
Sunshine yellow

Maybe
It was being
Called beautiful
Because I was like
Poetry and sunsets
Great towering mountains
Pretty just
Didn't do justice

Maybe
It was our
Midnight phone calls
And feeling like
I could scrape the
Deep blue canvas sky
And twirl amoung
The blinking stars

Maybe
It was all of it
Mixed like
Paint on an
Artists palette
Pinks, reds, oranges,
Spelling out a lone word
Love.
To be young and in love.
 Mar 2018 Mystic Ink Plus
melanie
Divided we stand
when together we should be.
Our purpose should be the same:
To protect, to love, to care for our children.
But darkness & evil have infiltrated our hearts,
Stupidity & ignorance have led us askew, &
Judgment & fear have made us all hate each other.

So no one wants to listen to the teenage girl
who understands true fear.
No one wants to hear the young man
who sees why the world is burning.
Instead it's a liberal-conservative war.
It's a we are older and know better war.
It's a "these are my rights..." war.

And still,  no one listens.

Yet no one is listening.
No is addressing the fear.
And the hate grows larger.
Mixing itself in with the fear,
Causing monsters that we have
only dreamed of in nightmares.

So now, no one sleeps at night.
Afraid of all the monsters
that have been created by hate & fear
Because no one would listen or love.
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