My memory didn’t get erased,
and all what happened between us still ached,
Yet your comforting words cut more deep than anything else,
But I cannot wait for you to break this suspense,
You were exactly what I was looking for,
Someone to talk to who didn’t feel like a chore,
Had I known I could’ve been feeling this way again,
Maybe I could’ve stopped for once to pretend,
That no one truly cared for me,
when you’ve always been the missing key,
To put a stop on my loveless heart,
Will you promise me to never be apart?
Apr 3
Apr 3, 2026 at 8:38 AM UTC
I met her where the lilies bloom,
A smile like dawn’s first gleam;
She called me knight with gentle lips,
And woke me from my dream.
Her kindness wrapped me like the sun,
A warmth I dared believe;
Her laughter brushed my rusted heart—
A gift I could not leave.
But one cold morn, the world was still,
Her footsteps turned to mist;
No farewell sigh, no trembling word,
No hand I might have kissed.
Now on the wind I chase her name,
A ghost of sweeter days;
For she was kind—without intent—
And left me in her haze.
Jan 9
Jan 9, 2026 at 11:25 AM UTC
You left,
but desire never learned to follow you.
It stayed—
coiled in the dark,
listening.
A Spanish guitar opens the night,
its body warm as skin remembered,
its strings drawn tight
the way I once held you
when summer refused to cool us.
Every note is deliberate,
slow enough to savor,
sharp enough to ache.
I still know how you moved to sound—
hips answering rhythm,
breath slipping out of time.
You leaned into music
the way you leaned into me,
as if wanting were a language
your body spoke fluently.
Those nights were endless.
Windows open.
Sweat tasting of salt and moonlight.
My hands learning the precise tension
that made you respond—
not hurried,
never rushed,
each touch a chord
pulled just long enough
to make you tremble.
Years have passed,
yet my body remains practiced.
It remembers the pause at your waist,
the way your back arched
when silence grew too full.
Memory presses against me now
like heat without flame,
like music waiting to be played again.
The guitar does not mourn—
it seduces.
Each vibration lingers,
wood humming under pressure,
strings begging to be drawn tighter.
I listen the way one listens
with closed eyes and parted breath,
letting sound do
what time cannot.
I have touched others,
but none have stayed
so vividly inside me.
None have returned so easily
at the sound of a single chord.
You arrive without warning,
undressed by memory,
moving the way you always did—
slow, confident, inevitable.
Longing is not sorrow.
It is desire that refuses to fade.
It is the body responding
before the mind can intervene.
It is a song
etched into wood and string,
played again and again
because it still knows
exactly how to touch me.
You are gone.
But the music keeps finding you.
And I—
I keep listening,
heated, awake,
still tuned
to the way you once made me feel.
#romance #poetry #lovepoem #longing #missingyou #erotica #spanishguitar
Dec 23, 2025
Dec 23, 2025 at 11:22 AM UTC
Winter found me first—
it always does.
Bare trees, early dark,
the hush where absence grows.
Six years now,
layered like snow,
each silence falling
where your voice used to go.
The cold keeps score.
It knows my name.
I learned to breathe
inside the ache,
to walk the days,
yet never claim
that time has softened
what remains.
Spring arrives, rehearsing hope.
Petals open, light grows kind.
The world begins,
but I stay close
to what the heart
won’t leave behind.
Every bloom
recalls your face—
a promise time
could not replace.
Summer lingers, slow and bright,
stretching warmth into the night.
Golden hours ache to stay,
then leave me
just the same.
My hands still know
the shape of you,
six years gone,
yet feeling true.
Autumn speaks of letting go.
Leaves fall clean,
as if they know.
I gather what
the wind discards—
your voice in rain,
your ghost in dark.
Time insists
I should be free.
My heart calls this
remembering.
And when the year
completes its turn,
I return to what I’ve learned:
the world may thaw,
may bloom, may burn—
but love stays where
it first was hurt.
I move ahead,
yet still I stand
in winter’s hold,
your name in hand.
Dec 22, 2025
Dec 22, 2025 at 12:54 AM UTC
There’s something about your love
that feels like amber—
warm, steady, quietly glowing
even on the days when I don’t.
I hold it the way you’d hold
something precious you almost forgot you deserved,
turning it in my hands,
letting its soft light calm the restlessness in me.
You don’t rush my healing.
You just stay—
patient as resin forming over years,
gathering the broken pieces of who I’ve been
and making them part of something beautiful.
And maybe that’s why I keep you close,
why your name sits in my chest
like a small, golden ember.
Because in a world full of moments that fade,
you’re the one thing
etched in amber—
the one warmth
I know won’t go away.
Dec 14, 2025
Dec 14, 2025 at 9:21 AM UTC
There are the braggarts,
rising like common phantoms of the night:
they summon a light that never once
came from the breath of God,
forged with fervor their own trembling throne
built only of ashes and illusions.
They do not know
that the mountain they value so fiercely
crumbles like salt in the sea—
a monument of dreams, hollow to the core.
And there are the deceivers,
growing fat like wandering spirits
raining strange weeds
into the hearts of those they ensnare.
They unleash cutting whispers,
staining the names of the innocent,
and tightening the soul
with vines of stories
that have no root in truth.
They are the flickering shadows
that slither upon the path
of the unwary and the unarmed,
bending the mind,
dimming the light.
But even in the smallest sliver of dawn—
even at the edge of the longest night—
a heavenly fire enters,
and the daylight crowns of the arrogant
fall apart into gray dust.
The lies that sought to wound
are revealed like the fumes
of a corrupted ritual—
empty, powerless,
unable to stand before the face of truth.
For truth, though they bury it
under rumor, under schemes, under the weight of their deceit,
remains like a stone
in the heart of the river:
it cannot be lost,
cannot be forgotten,
and cannot be blinded
by the forged reflections
of those who gather
in the kingdom of lies.
Dec 11, 2025
Dec 11, 2025 at 7:25 PM UTC
Every day,
there are moments
when a truth almost escapes me—
a small affection,
a soft admiration,
a longing wrapped
in careful restraint.
I catch myself
before the words form,
holding them gently
like fragile birds
not ready for flight.
I don’t want to unsettle
the delicate balance
between us—
the easy way we speak,
the comfortable distance
you’ve never questioned.
So I let the truths dissolve
on my tongue,
swallowed before they fall.
One day,
maybe,
I’ll let just one slip—
a small one,
something harmless.
But for now,
silence feels safer
than losing the little
I already have of you.
Dec 11, 2025
Dec 11, 2025 at 2:42 AM UTC
Each day I never fail to gaze upon your light;
“An angel from above,” my lips confess in quiet delight.
With reason after reason, I find ways to draw near –
In dreams and whispered wishes, I long to keep you here.
Your presence stirs a softness I can scarcely understand,
A pull as gentle as twilight, as warm as a guiding hand.
You walk, and colors brighten; you speak and sorrows fade –
In you, I see the poetry that life itself has made.
For so long I have wished to reveal the feelings that I bear,
Yet a trembling fear within me keeps my heart from laying bare.
I rehearse the words in silence, but they falter on my tongue –
A love too bright, too fragile, too deep to leave unsung.
So, I bury every heartbeat, let these aching truths subside,
I fold them into shadows where my quiet hopes can hide.
For never can I shout it, though every breath feels true –
My secret adoration, my hidden love for you.
Dec 10, 2025
Dec 10, 2025 at 10:36 AM UTC
I think you might like this book – "Phases of Love: Poems on Infatuation, Love, Heartbreak and Hope" by Homer Custodio.
Start reading it for free: http://a.co/etTbk2w
Feb 21, 2019
Feb 21, 2019 at 4:10 AM UTC
I have already forgotten you.
I am a fool if I say that
I still love you,
You no longer matter to me
It's impossible that
I always remember our times together
I am already moving on;
It is a great lie when I say
I still miss you badly.
I must tell you what's in my heart.
Feb 13, 2019
Feb 13, 2019 at 7:16 AM UTC