Blackout Poetry Notes

Smouldering Passion

I desire
smouldering passion
a strong, brilliant man
full of a love
most complex.

We are fixed selves
but I sense
I must change my writing...
to be happy.

My greatest trouble in
any relationship
is I can forget
to be happy.

I need to fight
conventional ideas of womanhood,
like, pregnant in the kitchen.
Shift the question
to motive:
he thought he could manipulate me.

My poetry,
my best writing,
is the produce of loneliness in me.

We must decide
every minute is valuable.
Acknowledge the good,
yet rest to recover from the emotion
of the past.

They were opposite
and yet,
there was an unmistakable intimacy,
conspiring feelings
in them.

Your love is
real beauty.

Without a word, 
the truth was in your eyes,
and there was nothing
I could say.

I just talk,
you could interpret
poetry
in your own way.