Poets cry and love too much,
Create new Worlds for you to watch,
Dream of things that cannot be,
Thinking thoughts of Fantasy.
...
In the loveless, lonely night,
When all dreams have taken flight,
I love you.
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Tonight,
I want to write,
A poem that's all white,
No colors,
...
Even if you did not love me,
I would love you all the same,
For in True Love there is no pride,
There is no shame.
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Poems are not made of words,
They're made of inner feelings,
Words instead of colors, paint,
The portrait of our inner state,
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Poetry is like a prayer,
In your moments of despair.
It can be a guiding light,
In the darkness of your night.
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The Solitude,
That shapes my mood,
Has taken hold, today,
It grips my soul,
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When true love
Is really there,
You never tire
Of one another,
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Miami has a pickle smell,
A smell that tells you all is well,
You enter in a restaurant,
And eat and eat all that you want.
...