She keeps songs locked away in boxes like secrets. She will take them out like postcards to help her remember the feeling of a different time, a different person by her side. She likes the one that makes her eyes close to see the lights. She smiles at the one that makes her stand up on tiptoes, the one that helps her forget she doesn’t know what to do with her hands.
The tune will carry her.
Like it did the times when voices broke like a heart. When instruments’ strings would snap and hurt.
Warm colors in the sky, The burnt amber reminded me of your eyes. A beautiful prize, That I can't summarize. As my gaze curiously wanders to yours, Caught those gemstones looking into mine enticed. With our sights aligned, The sun kisses the ocean its goodbyes. As the serene waves serenades the sun, Pulling our heartstrings on a run. As the dusk, Melted into the ocean blush. There, Your rosy cheeks. Brighter than any sunset, Melted mine into a smile.
A memory I will forever remember anyway i'm still bad at poetry but hope u enjoy it
what's it like to be loved to be the first person infatuated with in the morning to be caressed to be kissed to be sweatered in kisses and blessings
what's it like to be loved to be nurtured to be the illuminating brightness of someone's day 10000001 lumens for you to be the initial current which spins the motor of life
what's it like to be loved to be loved to be cared for to be admired to be listened to to be ....to just be to be accepted
i know what it's like to be loved but these days it seems like a dust covered, degrading artifact of a long forgotten civilization i'm just waiting for my archaeologist to come brush and restore what once was
i spent my life trying to please someone with a twisted disease i broke myself down and tucked my feelings away to become the person they wanted me to be i let myself be watched through the glass of a two sided mirror of a sociopath i wallowed my spirit away and begged for acceptance but there’s nothing in the world that i could do to let the narcissist know that i am human too
the only thing that can please a narcissist is being miserable
Women aren't ga-ga over hats like they once were. If I ever met a hatless, interesting woman I'd steal a hat & slam it onto her head. She would be either thankful or unconscious. My task would be to say “you're welcome” or revive her. Once there existed a woman of graceful bearing with the morals of a fruit fly. She'd pollinate hither-and-thither.
I used to read your poems but lately you don't write you're silent and aloof you know that isn't right. You can't close a door once opened you can't abolish all your dreams you're a poet of the heart mustn't fall apart at the seams. Say what you can in words they speak the message true spoken from the heart the poems will see you through. A hermit's not your style a recluse, you are not never give up writing of things that you've been taught. I used to read your poems I'd read them once again if you would send them out (this one's from a poet friend)
I love him I tell myself I know that We will be together forever I don’t believe that We could be separated My thoughts tell me that He’s the love of my life Sometimes my heart lies and says I could live an eternity Without him Like my friends say “We’re perfect for each other” And you can’t tell me He’s not the one.
They said, "The most beautiful art is looking into someone's eyes when they talk about the things they love." And I said, "Or looking at someone you love. Or maybe, just maybe, by looking at the mirror is the most beautiful art anyone should appreciate."
Appreciation post for myself; for you and for everyone as well. You deserve more than the world has to offer.
I thought if I could swallow the stars I’d be as beautiful as the evening sky I tried one night with fireflies They burned my throat Their legs striking at soft flesh But my skin did not glow No moon crawled from my eye sockets I was left with corpses in my stomach I soon learned I would only ever be A cemetery
My goal is to become an oeuvre, the content must be complete, I’m trying to find the middle ground strong beneath my feet. The reason I’m so boxed up the smell of dead disdain, maybe then I just might find the lost link on the chain. We all of us need a reason for The act to be humane Maybe then we just might learn to heal from all the pain. I am just a student my teacher is my mind, Some of you may want to judge the answers you can’t find. Now just try to be quiet, and listen very close. The person that you really hate is the one you need the most. This writing has enough content I hope you will be pleased, That is all I’m gonna write to those with this disease They all have a need to be honest and if I'm gonna be true go ahead and ask how a bout me? then I'll ask how a bout you?
There is nothing in this world that we can get for free. Every boy and every girl were born with eye's to see. While I was walking down the street a man did approach. He asked me for a cigerette I told him I dont smoke. later on that very same man was driving a brand new porche it turned he was very rich his daddy was a morche.The moral of this story we really never know the score. A little bit is not enough, we all cry out for more. So in time the man died from cancer from the cigerettes he smoke, life can be a real big game not meant to be a joke. So remember this suggestion do not accept anything for free. It may be the death of you or maybe the death of me.
Whether a comma, or colon: Punctuation slows my rolling I need no period. When I end no Capitalization when I begin Rulelessly I flow my art Not a single! Exclamation mark Are you not the one Who'll know? Where a question mark No longer goes
Warp the structure Bend the lines Put in repeat Let emotion unwind Make yourself Your poetry's the best Be your own ruler Pass your own test
Take your own road Where ever it leads Lover or hater It's all poetry!
Traveler Tim .
Hay No matter who you are You have my deepest respect!
Vanity All is vanity The meanings of passion The aesthetic expression The lines we draw and stay within Even love is beyond intent Vanity transcends Flowing from our pens And so we breathe again