A couple of poems I wrote for @random-doctor-on-the-internet while we were talking (je t'adore, mon ange, et oui c'est moi, avec un blog nouveau pour l'art).
To me it is strange that one who loves poetry Could find it so difficult to love themself Because what you are is a poem always Every heartbeat in a dancing metre Every breath the syllable softly stressed Every smile of yours is enchanting imagery Every word of yours weaves emotions in me And if that is not poetry, as those greater than I have said, then what is? You are poetry. And I do love poems.
...
Dead? You? I find that difficult to believe, my love Because what you are is what life should be Filled with hope, even in murky marshes Softened with kindness, when it is hard to be Draping reason's windows with art's tapestry
If I could capture that elusive life Give that giddy transience a form true If all those emotions, and stories, were a person That person would look a lot like you.
~Amari Asmi
