At the Sundance Film Festival this weekend, I met singer/songwriter, “Hope”. I IMprov-ed this start of a song, and decided I liked it well enough to save it!

I’m not hot enough to break your heart./

You dont think twice when you leave my place./

 So girl dont even start,/

dont be dissin’ on my face!

I want to flirt with/

you, with no pressure, so I/

don’t know what to do.

Your feelings,
Repressed,
Will one day well up,
And flood over you
Like a wave.
And you will go with it,
Flow with it,
And be surprised
That you can survive
And relish
And embrace those passions.
The way you didn't know you could
Open
And embrace
And enjoy
What you had never before
felt.
But you did.
And you will.

In response to this poem from a friend:

I wrote this:

I am tired of your adulterous affairs,

Your whoreish life,

How you put 
on airs and lust after another

familiar lover.

You accept him so easily,
So quickly,
So willingly.

 Of course, you are used
to his embrace.
The way he looks,

 Smells,
Feels,
 Tastes.

You were with him
 For so long.
 His grasp and hold was strong,
Until I came along.

You gave your thoughts,
 Your heart,
Yourself
 To me.
I won you,
 Not easily,
 But conquer I did,
In dreams and reality,
 Until, in a lonely moment,
You turned again to him,
Like an old, bad habit.

And he is that:
Filthy, sickening habit.
So I ask you to turn back
 To me.
Turn your back
On he
 Who has been your lover,
 Your companion.
Tell him
You have another,
 And to not return again.

 When he tries to
Seduce you
 And get into your head
Turn to me, instead.
By phone, text, email:
 Find me, your friend.

Give up your lonely, sad adultery.
Reach out and embrace love’s vitality.

Last night’s full moon held/

so much promise in her face./

Now she holds nothing.

OR

Tonight, she holds nichts.

OR

Tonight, bitte, nichts.

To a friend bemoaning/
a lack of served food,/
I say, to one who is lonely,/
the company tastes good!/
So don't feel bad!/
I loved what we had!/
Peanut Butter and celery sticks/
will always, for me, do the trick!

Maybe every time / 
she lost an earring, it was/
a hint she should stay.

Fresh, ripe citrus sits,/
 languishing, in my car: Sweet/
bitte reminders.

Going from writing/

poetry daily, even/

hourly, to none, hurts.

My heart aches for you,/
but there’s nothing I can do/
to help except hear.