"Yo vengo de un no lugar."
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Poems of the Zodiac by Daniel



An open envelope, 
yet a closed book on
the shelf, cold minded,
warm hearted, a seeker
of wealth; a clandestine
dreamer when the
cards have been dealt.


A stubborn high tide,
the beacon in the distance,
passionate dancer; a
rebellious inventor;
a misunderstood
lover - who will kiss you
with fire, who will love 
you with vigour. 


A sharer of burdens;
retracer of footsteps, eyes
which hold the embers
of all they have seen. Will 
gaze as smoke billows from
their dreams, between still
fingers and out to sea.


A sudden storm in
summer, the brightest 
star at night; an
opportunist rogue,
confessor of sins
a master of hearts
a dominant lover, a 
quick kiss in the dark.


A persistent flame,
an amber hue in an 
empty room; a survivor
of turmoil, proud of their
scars. A reliable storm,
a hidden warmth, a
solemn speaker that
seeks reward.


An assassin’s blade,
a midnight roamer, a
moody dusk with 
stain glass eyes; a
fickle wanderer with
a brimming mind, a
careless lover, both
cautious and wild.


Harvester of mementos;
a lover of lost words;
a bandaged fighter.
A collector of keys,
trespasser on dreams,
an unruly vagabond;
a desirer of shackles 
who wants to be found.


The heart in the earth,
a leader in love, an
architect with conflicted
mind. Finds solace in the 
shadow, a reminder to 
live. Has so much to lose 
but so much to give. 


A solemn hearted lover;
a short sighted dreamer
with claustrophobic mind,
conflicted ambition, a
fiery kisser and agnostic
star gazer. Sorrow tongued
poet. A nostalgic nightingale
trying to find home.


A tumultuous earthquake;
betwixt some Autumn 
stills. A lifeboat with
ambiguous sails, a captain 
with the tenderest heart.
An anchor in the shadow,
a hand to hold, a single
rose in a field of bones.


A moody summer’s
evening, an unyielding 
flame, a harbinger of
unfathomable impulse,
the first drop of rain;
is not a sinner, nor a
saint but a lustful spirit,
with an honest face.


A restless voyager;
intuitive forager, an 
untamed spirit, collector
of hearts. Wakes every 
morning with passion 
revived, leaves the dead
buried, eyes forward,
in stride.

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142 notes "This is what you do: you sing. Every part of you. Your locks of hair sing, your eyes, your hands, your smile. If I listen closely I can even hear your blood."
Francesca Lia Block  
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I hope one day
somebody loves you
so much

that they see violets
in the bags under your eyes,
sunsets in the downward arch
of your lips,

that they recognize you
as something green,
something fresh and still growing,
even if sometimes
you are growing sideways,

that they do not waste their time
trying to fix you.

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