I love you
not because
you're good looking
I love you
not because
you're caring
I love you
not because
you dote on me
I love you
not because
your smiles are sweet
I love you
not in lust
of your crevice
or orifice
or skin
I love you
because
without you
I feel
incomplete within.
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 10:16 AM UTC
At the dawn of a new day
During the morning's first blush,
I sat with Sentiment.
Who was in the past,
And at this time, wonderfully affectionate.
You see, Sentiment and I,
Have always been companions,
When we were together he'd always hold my hand and
He always held tight when he held that hand
To show, I won't be abandoned.
"You're sweet." He said
He bowed his head and added
"Sweet as roses."
You can imagine my roseate cheeks then,
Suddenly flushed with the pigment
Of a high-colored rose.
And my smile fighting to be as wide
As the world and all the emotion felt
Between the lovers
And the lovers who couldn't handle
The cards being dealt.
But not sentiment and I.
I look towards him,
I smiled as I replied,
"Nothing is that sweet."
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 9:59 AM UTC
I HAVE drunk ale from the Country of the Young
And weep because I know all things now:
I have been a hazel-tree, and they hung
The Pilot Star and the Crooked Plough
Among my leaves in times out of mind:
I became a rush that horses tread:
I became a man, a hater of the wind,
Knowing one, out of all things, alone, that his head
May not lie on the breast nor his lips on thc hair
Of the woman that he loves, until he dies.
O beast of the wilderness, bird of the air,
Must I endure your amorous cries?
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 3:14 AM UTC
I believe you
but it hurts because i try so hard to
i trust you, i love you
but my soul unfortunately has always been infatuated with pain
hurt has found me,
time and time again.
never in my most excruciating nightmares, have you been the cause
i have yet to learn,
how to put the thoughts on pause.
but there is no way to easily stop
the hurt I've again come across, the bitterness that is now inside of you.
if you had the chance, would you still-
grab my hand, or love me, not only depending on our goodwill?
kiss me, to the day you no longer love me, just until?
if, come a day, you no longer love me...
please do not run with me to a place only we know.
but if we have the chance we can-
leave the bad things behind.
lets go to a place,
they'll never find,
a place where the evil is blind.
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 9:32 AM UTC
I remember waking up very early the next morning,
maybe three hours after I fell asleep on the bathroom floor.
I tiptoed through the house, careful not to wake anybody up,
even the guy who kept telling you to drink
even though you very kindly asked him to stop.
I'm not sure if you ended up drinking,
I forgot most of what happened that night,
but I remember shouting from the tire swing
that I loved you and that I loved you
and that I loved you.
I found where you were sleeping,
relieved to find no body next to yours,
and calmly placed a hand on your forehead.
You stirred, before gently grabbing my hand as it pulled away.
Eyes still closed,
you asked me how I felt.
I feel okay, nothing appears to be broken.
You said nothing and went back to sleep.
I said nothing and sat there for a long while.
I watched your chest rise and fall with each breathe,
and I loved you and I loved you and I loved you.
After a time I stepped outside to smoke a thought,
and the thought I smoked was not of you or of the night before
but of my mother.
She told me,
after I brought home my first date, two months into my freshmen year of high school,
that just because I desire somebody's love,
does not mean I deserve it.
I loved you and I loved you and I loved you
but I did not deserve your love.
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 7:26 PM UTC
Poems unfinished
Lying still with dust collecting
On the curves of every A, B, C.
Crying out to hold more meaning and passion
being incomplete has never been in fashion.
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 5:52 PM UTC
Is writing countless rhymes above lines much more still than their writers hands have ever been,
nearly enough to show my affections?
I try putting action to words, so my poems become more than dried ink,
more than something you've only heard
but how can I show you what you cannot see in the mirror?
In what way can i prove to you your perfection is intoxicating.
Countless smiles you've created throughout all the time we have dated
My cares for anything but you, have faded.
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 5:50 PM UTC