Trinketkeeper999 - Hello Poetry

Morning coffee and dewdrops on grass A porch swing and light acoustics on the radio Dances in the kitchen and feet free of hindrance A goodbye kiss and a see-you-later Harmony and synchronicity, A rhythmic sway Your love is my muse, We always find our way "I wanted to hear your voice" And "Send me a picture when you can" I miss you, I just saw you, I can't wait to see you, I'm waiting for you— Always. Your body is my castle, Your arms are my throne And in this war of a world, I am with you, And I am forever home.

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Mar 20

Mar 20, 2026 at 10:16 AM UTC

We have a love people write books about

Morning coffee and dewdrops on grass A porch swing and light acoustics on the radio Dances in the kitchen and feet free of hindrance A goodbye kiss and a see-you-later Harmony and synchronicity, A rhythmic sway Your love is my muse, We always find our way "I wanted to hear your voice" And "Send me a picture when you can" I miss you, I just saw you, I can't wait to see you, I'm waiting for you— Always. Your body is my castle, Your arms are my throne And in this war of a world, I am with you, And I am forever home.

25

This journey— of loving you, learning to love you, seeing every version of you— loving you all the more. Growing to love you, feels all similar to that of a flower, nature in all forms, be it a tree or even a bush. Talking with you— rooting into you— we built a foundation, and each joke, each smile, each laugh, was a new bulb of plant life blossoming, envisioning the bulb as a door opening, into a home, with you. Together, we grow, perhaps a willow tree, encamping and shading all we cherish, a bush— with roots of integrity— stable in all seasons of life, a flower, blooms every year, bright in color, never faltered. Our love will never falter, and with that, I will never give up, that is my testament to you.

0

Feb 12

Feb 12, 2026 at 1:11 PM UTC

A testament

This journey— of loving you, learning to love you, seeing every version of you— loving you all the more. Growing to love you, feels all similar to that of a flower, nature in all forms, be it a tree or even a bush. Talking with you— rooting into you— we built a foundation, and each joke, each smile, each laugh, was a new bulb of plant life blossoming, envisioning the bulb as a door opening, into a home, with you. Together, we grow, perhaps a willow tree, encamping and shading all we cherish, a bush— with roots of integrity— stable in all seasons of life, a flower, blooms every year, bright in color, never faltered. Our love will never falter, and with that, I will never give up, that is my testament to you.

31

You once told me I exist because you let me. I felt those words veil me. A bullet grazing my skin smothered in a vanity of nurture. My skin barrier corrodes as your breath cracks my face. I am no longer nourished.

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Jan 28

Jan 28, 2026 at 11:54 AM UTC

Ghost of a father

You once told me I exist because you let me. I felt those words veil me. A bullet grazing my skin smothered in a vanity of nurture. My skin barrier corrodes as your breath cracks my face. I am no longer nourished.

1

And she returns when the sun is most dire. Her sonnets and ribbons form a delicate bow. The knots unravel a gorgeous lineage, shy of obscenity and laced in desire. She returned when the sun was most dire; and alongside her shadow was casted a wilted flower. She is to blossom again, when her roots are fertilized, and the sun is no longer a necessity.

0

Jan 22

Jan 22, 2026 at 12:17 PM UTC

Untitled

And she returns when the sun is most dire. Her sonnets and ribbons form a delicate bow. The knots unravel a gorgeous lineage, shy of obscenity and laced in desire. She returned when the sun was most dire; and alongside her shadow was casted a wilted flower. She is to blossom again, when her roots are fertilized, and the sun is no longer a necessity.

12

A debilitating chapter; yet most captivating and alluring. The one where I will not falter. It inspires me to picture the cinematic of us, yearning and aching for a happy ending. A writers dream— the ultimate romance to achieve. A success. Hope and faith, in a golden sealed story arc promised by fate. A steady and sure love, and my hand at the ready. Boundless in time; freed from the clocks and erasing all deadlines. We are painting a mural, rather than following a story. Chapter or picture I assume all masterpieces end with you.

0

Dec 3, 2025

Dec 3, 2025 at 11:16 AM UTC

You and I

A debilitating chapter; yet most captivating and alluring. The one where I will not falter. It inspires me to picture the cinematic of us, yearning and aching for a happy ending. A writers dream— the ultimate romance to achieve. A success. Hope and faith, in a golden sealed story arc promised by fate. A steady and sure love, and my hand at the ready. Boundless in time; freed from the clocks and erasing all deadlines. We are painting a mural, rather than following a story. Chapter or picture I assume all masterpieces end with you.

23

Roses are red Violets are blue My love is far overdue For I lack a better muse

0

Jun 5, 2025

Jun 5, 2025 at 4:12 PM UTC

Untitled

Roses are red Violets are blue My love is far overdue For I lack a better muse

4

My heart twinges and aches for a breath as I crave a love tainted in ashes and glitter— dusted away in a moment captured by a hearts flutter; my mind wanders as my mouth stutters. I am wasting away in burning desire. My heart twinges and aches to be held for more than a temporary fire.

0

May 28, 2025

May 28, 2025 at 10:40 PM UTC

I am yearning.

My heart twinges and aches for a breath as I crave a love tainted in ashes and glitter— dusted away in a moment captured by a hearts flutter; my mind wanders as my mouth stutters. I am wasting away in burning desire. My heart twinges and aches to be held for more than a temporary fire.

14

I still remember the first time I thought about death. Or— dying, in itself. I remember how my hands gripped the wooden handle, little fingers trembling from the intensity. I was— quite literally, holding on for life. I remember how curious I was— how my thoughts raced for endless miles. What would happen to me? Would it be messy? How would it feel? How bad does it hurt? Would anyone miss me? Am I too young? Will it get better? And so, I put away the knife. I climbed to the top of my bunk bed, each step heavy, like I was clinging to life. And I continued my cartoons.

0

May 15, 2025

May 15, 2025 at 10:25 PM UTC

I still remember

I still remember the first time I thought about death. Or— dying, in itself. I remember how my hands gripped the wooden handle, little fingers trembling from the intensity. I was— quite literally, holding on for life. I remember how curious I was— how my thoughts raced for endless miles. What would happen to me? Would it be messy? How would it feel? How bad does it hurt? Would anyone miss me? Am I too young? Will it get better? And so, I put away the knife. I climbed to the top of my bunk bed, each step heavy, like I was clinging to life. And I continued my cartoons.

36

Time has called to claim my brain— I am decaying and maimed, but know that the wage of my age can never outweigh the price I paid to be in your embrace. The wrinkles on my face declare a lifetime saved. Within my pain, you rise from grace, and in the spaces we paved our love remains forever engraved. With trembling hands and a quiet pace; I burrow in every plate to hold onto your taste. With weak knees, bruised black and blue; I would swim through a typhoon just to make my way back to you. Although my wisdom is faltered and was never innate, you summoned a great lover in this withered world full of hate.

0

May 14, 2025

May 14, 2025 at 7:23 PM UTC

Read this when my memory fades.

Time has called to claim my brain— I am decaying and maimed, but know that the wage of my age can never outweigh the price I paid to be in your embrace. The wrinkles on my face declare a lifetime saved. Within my pain, you rise from grace, and in the spaces we paved our love remains forever engraved. With trembling hands and a quiet pace; I burrow in every plate to hold onto your taste. With weak knees, bruised black and blue; I would swim through a typhoon just to make my way back to you. Although my wisdom is faltered and was never innate, you summoned a great lover in this withered world full of hate.

23

I crave the hues of your eyes in every painted evening sky; the brushstrokes of the setting sun recall my flushed cheeks: your smile to adorn— and in every landscape I seek the roads still cheekily lead me back to your street.

0

May 11, 2025

May 11, 2025 at 10:54 PM UTC

A sunset is never enough

I crave the hues of your eyes in every painted evening sky; the brushstrokes of the setting sun recall my flushed cheeks: your smile to adorn— and in every landscape I seek the roads still cheekily lead me back to your street.

8