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My various writings and poems
just a place to write my stories and poems that i may or may not publicly share.
What You Are to Me- a poem for my better half
There are time's when we fight, and time's when we argue,
Time's when all seem's lost and it seem's like I don't love you.
We do seem to have our differences, and we never really seem to fit,
But just so you know, I wish to say to you this:

As cliche's go, you are the Yang to my Yin, the core of my world.
You are my flame on a candle, that flickers so bright through the dark,
My gravity when I feel lost and want to float away from this world.
My energy boost when I can endure no more.

You mean more to me than you think, and more still when you try to guess,
You are everything I hoped to find, and everything I never knew I was looking for.
I hope to someday show you how much I really do care about you,
To someday show you how lost I would be without you.

You are my One and only, My other half of the puzzle.
You are my true love, my guidance for what's wrong and whats right.
You are my Everything, My inspiration for life.

You're My Infinity
Black, starry sky,
cold, chilly weather,
comforting, romantic music,
soft, silky blankets.

Lying here with you,
watching the stars,
with our hands intertwined,
and our hearts content.

You took the broken pieces
and put them together,
you found my lost soul
and brought it back home .

This is all I want,
this is everything.
I'm finally myself again,
you're my infinity.

The Truth About Reading
Reading isn’t a pastime,

Some thing that you do when you have nothing else to do.

It’s a life,

A hundred lives,

A hundred names,

A hundred faces,



Because reading is living,

Living in someone else’s life,

In their thoughts,

In their emotions.

Reading is an escape from the one life that is truly yours.

That is truly mine.

His Hand
It rests.

Sitting on my thigh, it is

Still, almost disinterested.

The film plays in front of us,

And as I glance right I see him watching.

I turn forward.

I try to watch too.

After all, he might want to talk about it later.

But even as I watch the screen,

All I see is his hand.

Still, almost disinterested.

Still, the most distracting touch I have ever felt.

The audience laughs.

I breathe out to disguise my oblivion.

His little finger twitches slightly.

My heart stops.

Petite Fleur Noire
Community Member
Petite Fleur Noire
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