Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
  Jan 2017 Abbie Orion
Isabelle
•••
This heartbreak
Unleashes the poet on me

•••
i wrote a poem for you, even though i know that you will never read them
Abbie Orion Jan 2017
My love is like a glass jar filled to the brim with entire oceans:
Impossible, irrational, and deeper than you could ever imagine until you see it up close. Wading in it is an impossibility. If you go for a swim in my waters, you're sure to drown. But you won't die.

When a writer loves you, she will spend most of her waking poeting hours trying to capture some essence of you: a touch, a smile, the color of your eyes...She'll wrap them in pretty words, similes, and metaphors and hand them to you like pristine Christmas gifts, sparkling and waiting for you to tear in. She hopes a bit of her own passion will seep into you in doing so.

Likewise, when I love, I am willing to give you my world and everything in it, even if that means that I myself and confined to a single shadow in a small isolated corner of it. When I love, those seas seem to expand inside me until my heart feels swollen and ready to burst. When I love, it can feel overwhelming, difficult to wrap your head around. I tend to gush.

My love is like glass oceans: I am fragile but far too stubborn to ever break.
  Sep 2016 Abbie Orion
Autumn Rose
Many people see
stars on the night sky.
But i see only a
graveyard whose candles
are still lit on the graves,
even though they are
long exstinguished by the angels
  Sep 2016 Abbie Orion
Prathipa Nair
Yellow with white butterflies
Fluttering over the flowers
Big bee comes flirting with a buzz
Amidst my conversation with
Rose, the flower queen
Giggling of her friends being a response
Red whiskered bulbul sings vociferously
Please to meet you in our kingdom
Never beautiful but humble the black crow
Bringing some fruits honouring her guest
Wishing me hi from aloft the Sun
A pleasant morning with nature
Made my day a beautiful creation
  Sep 2016 Abbie Orion
Illya Oz
Often the ones who hate themselves the most,
Are the very same people who are the most loving.
They give out their love like giving bread to birds,
They throw it all away and forget to keep any for themselves.
That is why it is up to us to give them some of our bread,
no matter how stale,
To those amazing people who have nothing left to eat.
This poem is written for my best friend who is always their for me when I need her
Abbie Orion Jul 2016
Marble statues seem so solemn
And comparatively less still than us
As in the calm 11 o'clock evening
We are half adrift
Sleeping drunken off each others' presence
What is love if it is not being
Curled into the curve of your arm
And just being?
I can hardly remember the dark days from this view
I can hardly remember not having you
The heartbreak, when
Feeling lost never felt so good as feeling found.
I belong here
In the warmth of a summer night tucked into you
More than I've ever belonged in a place or time
Or ever will
Next page