Birds

These poems flow like a waterfall

I can see it clearly down the whitewashed hall

high school is not truly over

all my life I’ve been searching for that one four-leaf clover.

A and A and B and B

I could rhyme in my sleep and still see

how words are on my skin

paper thick and love thin.

I wish I did not dive into the water

jump and then falter

over deep issues in humanity

crying over the gorillas’s need to be free.

I want to sit in coffeeshops alone

ignore the pinging of my phone.

You should have been with a poet

but he does not wish to know it

all he sees are pretty mouths to kiss

sexy bodies to miss

after one encounter

nothing makes sense but to mount her.

Naked dressing, half-eyes open

get out of your zone and stop moping

listen to the wind’s whispers

wishing we were more than brothers and sisters.

I am not really your friend

I came upon you near the end

of the beginning when you loved her

now I am just another girl who calls you Sir.

Let out the light that darkens your soul

leave me write to feel whole.

All these gaps in my sentences

break down the barrier of all my fences.

Ping, I have to go.

Light up my eternity with purple snow.

Slave to my own words

but still I can hear the birds.

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