I needed him like a fire needed oxygen, my soul set on fire by his radiant heart. my breath caught in my throat as his lips lightly touched my cheek, the fire burning brighter than ever before…
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 10:43 AM UTC
I want him.
I want his beautiful blue eyes, blazing with desire and love
his soft, full lips, tracing my entire body and taking my own lips as prisoners of war
kissing me, kissing him with everything we've got,
everything we've kept in, pouring out in this kiss
I want to trace his face with my fingertips,
from his short blonde hair gripped in my tiny hands
to his smooth cheeks and his strong jawline and cup his face in my hands
planting lovemarks on his muscular neck in a shape of a circle; our never ending sign of love
I want to whisper sweet nothings and love poems into the curves of his shoulder;
the place where his shoulder and neck meets and that little soft spot,
near his collarbone
I want to outline his chest with words of forever with my hands
sketching an imaginary pattern of hope, want and passion
taking his callused hands in my soft, velvety one
embedding little butterfly kisses in his palms,
just little shadows of them, quick and gentle,
lightly brushing my lips against his lovely hands
I want his entire self,
giving up all of me to him and him, all to me
hushed words of sweet pleasure escaping from our mouths
like little wisps of smoke, trailing over our bodies that move in perfect harmony
I want his everything,
I want nights spent under the Michigan stars, cuddling against each other
talking about all the randomness in the universe
I want to fall asleep to his steady heartbeat with blankets as our only armour
after giving myself to him, a gift of true love to which I will never regret
I want forever and eternity with him, growing up and getting married
having little blonde kids, watching them run around the house and us laughing at all their silliness
and growing old with him, looking at him each and everyday
with the ever present butterflies in my stomach
doing somersaults and flips off the high dive every time I see him,
even after 50 years together
I want to hold him on his death bed, or he holding me when my time comes
I want us to have our small eternity just like Hazel and Augustus
and our almost happy ever after because even though nothing is perfect,
our ending will be the closest to perfection as possible
I want him forever and always,
just him,
only him,
from now to eternity.
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 3:07 PM UTC
don’t touch my soul with ***** hands
your miserable lies lay where you stand
a shadow of filth cling to your back
turn around to a nightmare of black
regrets haunting your every thought
maybe you shouldn't have wrestled and fought
for my own fragile, loyal heart
when love meant nothing as you teared me apart
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 8:02 AM UTC
she was a poet,
and he was her pen.
in him,
she always found words to write,
songs to sing,
thoughts to think.
he'd smile,
and kiss her softly,
and say,
"write me a poem."
and she would.
she'd put poe,
and whitman,
and shakespeare to shame,
and she'd write a poem that made his eyes water.
she'd compare him
to a rose with no thorns,
a book with no end,
a world with no poverty --
the things we all wish for,
but can never attain.
//
he asked her one day,
"what am i?"
and so she picked up her pen,
and began the usual:
*you are the shining sun after a hurricane,
with rays that open the eyes of the blind.*
but he stopped her after those two lines,
and said that this time,
he didn't want any metaphors,
or similes,
or analogies.
he wanted the truth.
and so on that night,
as he slept,
the poet picked up her pen,
and she wrote.
she wrote,
then thought better of it,
then started over again,
and this cycle continued well into the early hours of the morning,
until suddenly,
she wrote, frantic,
*if i can't love you for what you really are,
have i ever really loved you at all?*
this, too,
she thought better of,
condemning it to the trash.
the next morning the poet was gone,
her final work a mere two words:
i'm sorry.
(a.m.)
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 9:26 PM UTC
What happens when two lovers meet, twine hand in hand, gaze spellbound into the endless depth of the others eyes, and wishes the moment to last forever? What happens when they kiss, star crossed lovers, bound by love and tragic fate, to part in grief and bitter tears, Their screams echoing up to starry heavens, to fall at last, unheard, unsung, a tragic echo of bitter grief and the scream of tortured hearts, ripped apart, to die in pain and bitter age. White hair streaming, tears falling, he falls at last, succumbs to Time and tragic fate, dies at last, beneath the stars and pale moon, a tragedy for ages gone, A single drop in that endless sea of grief and bitter pain, watered by a constant rain, of broken lives and shattered dreams. For this is life, a bitter gulf, penance for some ancient crime, and though beauty lies in fleeting spaces, rainbows shining, leaves set sighing, by the fragrant breath of an autumn breeze, They are but glimpses, shadows of what we had, for all shall fail and pass away, and the days shall be filled with pain and bitter tears, from now until the end of time. For after all, Autumn is a time of dying.
Nov 8, 2014
Nov 8, 2014 at 12:29 PM UTC
When she met him
for the very first time
a crown of daisies
laid perfectly on her head
and a smile was splayed across her lips
the radiant sun taken from the sky
and placed all around her
illuminating her silhouette
against the setting horizon
He looked at her with those piercing eyes
immediately creating flowers in her lungs
and growing
She tried to breathe
but was unable,
for his flawless self
took her breath away
replacing them with wild flowers
of beauty
and awestruck
The Christmas roses in the pit of her stomach
held graceful butterflies on their stems
fluttering about
and spreading their beautiful,
wonderfully delicate wings,
flying up into her entire being.
He made her this way,
a beautiful mess
because who wouldn’t
if they met you?
A perfect work of nature
created from the prettiest of flowers
a Primrose to behold,
and a Camelia to hold.
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 1:36 PM UTC
The ocean waves lap over the shore
crashing into the little girl sitting there
her arms crossed over her legs,
hands clasped
her hair in messy waves down her back
a big purple bow holding parts of it together
She sings a sweet tune
of love and beauty
The sun sets in the west
creating a soft glow of deep orange
and light pink
her blonde hair glowing like fire
in the shadow of the setting sun
Her hands dip into the water
creating a ripple in the now still water
She watches as the ripple spreads
like a fire does when oxygen is added
The stars peep out from under the sparsely placed clouds
and the moon casts a peaceful glow on the girl
illuminating a small smile
splayed out on the little girl’s face
As her hand wiggles in the cool water
a small fish starts to nibble on her finger
A laugh bubbles up from her throat
creating a sound like small bells tinkling
Just then her mother calls
she gets up
her yellow dress crinkled from sitting on it
and she walks up to the house
where her mother stands, arms outstretched
the love clear on her face
and all she knows in that moment
is that this love is all she’ll ever need.
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 1:34 PM UTC
It is like you have nothing
when in reality, you have everything
and it is feeling opaque
when you are crystal clear
It is an ocean of air
suffocating on nothing and everything
drowning, forever drowning
It is an opponent check-mating the queen,
conquering all,
winning the match
and stealing your pride
and with pride, your hope
Yet it is also glass
for it is breakable but sharp
because even when we rise above it,
the nightmares will always haunt us
except, when these nightmares come,
we are able to see past them
and see through the looking glass, a future,
filled with hope.
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 1:31 PM UTC
her naked body
splayed across her bed
arms wrapped against his lean muscular body
breathing in sync
exhale, inhale
body against body
the glass wall now broken
shattering barriers between them
collecting their uncertain love
fusing them together as one
a love unbroken;
solidified,
now has formed
every move he makes
like nothing she's ever experienced
left afterwards to rest
against his body
head against his heart
thumping, fast
then slowing down
like a butterfly wing's flutter
when sleep enfolds him in its arms
and comforts him, simultaneously as she,
oh how that night felt
with him
and oh how she misses
his once undying love,
because that night
and that burning love
has now turned to embers
and blown away with the gusts of wind,
never to be seen again
yearning to be with him
she knew that night meant forever
a bond to never be broken
but he didn't seem to realize this
and broke everything they ever had
like a crack in a line
a hole in a heart
and now scattered embers
blow across the earth
never to be ignited again
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 9:39 AM UTC