#foxypoet

[foxypoetpoems-blog]

You're Beautiful

You ARE beautiful and you are the most beautiful person i have seen. Your personality- It's full of many different shades of colour, from red to blue, to gray to black, and back to white. It's like a thousand galaxies being born in the night sky, because they're all so different yet you can't help but fall in love with each and every one of them. Every star in the sky is holding each others' hands together and singing a beautiful melody that everyone will click the 'Replay' button for over and over and over again. And that melody accompanies the other melodies to form a huge explosion of emotion and passion; an explosion greater than any other in the universe. An explosion that I watch over and over and over again. Let me tell you- That explosion is beautiful.

[foxypoetpoems-blog]

It's true.

You die, I die.

[foxypoetpoems-blog]

Friend

You're dying. We don't focus on that. No, we just talk together like we're normal. Like everything's normal. There's no reason to dwell on the sad things. So we make use of the time we have. You're dying. Because of me. I'm sorry. But that doesn't matter. You are, and always will be, my friend.

[foxypoetpoems-blog]

Will You Ever Reply?

"Will you ever reply? The question beats on my mind like the drums before war. Always beating. Always beating. Always beating. Will you ever reply? The question drives into my soul like the wheels on the track. Turning the gears. Turning the gears. Turning the gears. Will you ever reply? The question flies through my mind like a plane in the sky. Flying high. Flying high. Flying high. Will you ever reply? The answer is just like you. Mystery. Mystery. Mystery."

[foxypoetpoems-blog]

Why Won't You Reply? What Did I Do Again? Are You Hiding Something? What's Wrong? I Know You Hurt Yourself. Is It Because I Ruined Your Happiness? Again?

[foxypoetpoems-blog]

Our Own Little Home

We've each got our own little home. It may be something absolutely extraordinary. It may be something just simply wonderful. It's our own little home. If you find someone else's home just down the road, You can tell what sort of a person they are. If their home is something that could never happen, and therefore doesn't exist, They might be sad. If their home is something normal, and they focus on always keeping it normal, They might be sad. If their home is their home, and they wish for a better one, They might be sad. Then again, if their home is not theirs, but rather; Someone else's home- They might be happy. But we each have our own little homes. Others may find your home to be strange, and you may find theirs to be strange. Your home may be in the rain. It may be a knife. It may be the dark, It may not even be life. Sadly some homes are there, but never occupied, Because people don't want to spend the money to live there. But some people do spend it. They sell the shoes on their feet and the shirts off their backs, Just to live in their home. Some sell themselves. Some just give up themselves, in one meaning or the other. But everybody has their own little home. Life is putting in the furniture, painting the house, cleaning the windows, and fixing the lights. It's got to be done at some point.

[foxypoetpoems-blog]

My Insanity

No. Don't leave. Yes. Please leave. Wait, no. I mean yes. I meant no. Yes. No. Yes. No. Yes. No. Yes. No. Yes. No. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for rambling like this. I'm sorry for messing up your life. I'm sorry for alot of things. One of them is interfering with you. I should have just left you alone. You were happy. I'm insane to think I could have made you happier.

[foxypoetpoems-blog]

Hug Me

Hug me.

You're nice, and you give good hugs.

Hug me.

You're kind and gentle and maybe if you-

Hug me,

You might just catch me sobbing in your arms.

Hug me.

You're a good hugger.

Hug me,

You're a fellow poet.

Hug me.

You deserve one.