arcanedave - Hello Poetry

there are moments when you meet someone and they look at you in the eyes and they say something with so much emotion you know it's real there are times when you can feel that person's love for you with a simple touch and there are moments when you know that they're looking at you and admiring your natural beauty love is something special silence is comfy holding hands is relaxing hearing their voices makes all of your problems go away the feeling in your chest when you see them doesn't have words to explain the emotion you feel when they hug you can't be expressed love is something so beautifully special and so horribly life changing

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Jul 18, 2019

Jul 18, 2019 at 2:44 PM UTC

Ode to Love

there are moments when you meet someone and they look at you in the eyes and they say something with so much emotion you know it's real there are times when you can feel that person's love for you with a simple touch and there are moments when you know that they're looking at you and admiring your natural beauty love is something special silence is comfy holding hands is relaxing hearing their voices makes all of your problems go away the feeling in your chest when you see them doesn't have words to explain the emotion you feel when they hug you can't be expressed love is something so beautifully special and so horribly life changing

20

maybe you are right maybe we are not meant for each other i tried my best to stay but you keep pushing me away you shoved me with your cold, cold attitude like winter in the arctics i realized there is no use for me to chase after you any longer the longer i stay the more it hurts maybe i am not good enough for you what am i? just a speck of dust in your galaxy lost in your orbit trying to find my way home so now, i decided to stop chasing after you thank you for the memories thank you for the chance to hold you in my arms even if it's only for a while so goodbye, i hope you find a better man.

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Apr 21, 2019

Apr 21, 2019 at 10:53 AM UTC

Arctic Winter

maybe you are right maybe we are not meant for each other i tried my best to stay but you keep pushing me away you shoved me with your cold, cold attitude like winter in the arctics i realized there is no use for me to chase after you any longer the longer i stay the more it hurts maybe i am not good enough for you what am i? just a speck of dust in your galaxy lost in your orbit trying to find my way home so now, i decided to stop chasing after you thank you for the memories thank you for the chance to hold you in my arms even if it's only for a while so goodbye, i hope you find a better man.

28

the poet is jealous; envious that he lacks recognition he wants to be like other poets the poet seeks attention; his pieces are not sincere anymore he lies when he writes the poet is ailing; slowly and unconsciously writing to impress and not to express the poet has gone numb; plain and heartless, he can’t feel a thing the poet is screaming; feel, feel, feel! yet the words had lost their allure the poet tries to write; sadness no longer fuels his creativity letters scattered is all that written the poet is lost; he doubted his purpose of writing he feels that he should stop the poet is helpless he cried for help but no one bothered to move an inch the poet is feeling plain he lost passion in everything he loved he lost himself the poet, is now dead.

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Feb 14, 2019

Feb 14, 2019 at 9:29 AM UTC

The Poet

the poet is jealous; envious that he lacks recognition he wants to be like other poets the poet seeks attention; his pieces are not sincere anymore he lies when he writes the poet is ailing; slowly and unconsciously writing to impress and not to express the poet has gone numb; plain and heartless, he can’t feel a thing the poet is screaming; feel, feel, feel! yet the words had lost their allure the poet tries to write; sadness no longer fuels his creativity letters scattered is all that written the poet is lost; he doubted his purpose of writing he feels that he should stop the poet is helpless he cried for help but no one bothered to move an inch the poet is feeling plain he lost passion in everything he loved he lost himself the poet, is now dead.

29