matt-o - Hello Poetry

Landlocked love, Stowaway hearts, With or Without a spark. Fire spurs out of the muddy dark, It whimpers and cries, Theres a deep battle inside, The day the stowaway heart arrives. The skinniest lover, Have the loudest hearts. Landlocked love, Doomed from the start, A watery grave, The conversation fades, To the depths of a page, Landlocked lovers, cobblestone soul, rough embers bush up, as the fire unfolds, Moon lights gaze, against the amber bleached skin, The day will come when we can be friends.

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Mar 20, 2014

Mar 20, 2014 at 4:59 PM UTC

Locked Love

Landlocked love, Stowaway hearts, With or Without a spark. Fire spurs out of the muddy dark, It whimpers and cries, Theres a deep battle inside, The day the stowaway heart arrives. The skinniest lover, Have the loudest hearts. Landlocked love, Doomed from the start, A watery grave, The conversation fades, To the depths of a page, Landlocked lovers, cobblestone soul, rough embers bush up, as the fire unfolds, Moon lights gaze, against the amber bleached skin, The day will come when we can be friends.

21

This time last year you had dreads. Such a labyrinth of biology tied by sweat, salt, and blood. Laced up in a fashion of infirmity, held together by fleeting desires. Promises keep us floating. Like the oxygen inlaced in driftwood. We're densities, varying. Fragile like a molecule, but as durable as atom. At the mercy of magnetism. Vibrating deep from the core. While waiting modestly for… nature to carry us home. Follow the coastline.

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Mar 19, 2014

Mar 19, 2014 at 12:50 AM UTC

Follow the Coastline

This time last year you had dreads. Such a labyrinth of biology tied by sweat, salt, and blood. Laced up in a fashion of infirmity, held together by fleeting desires. Promises keep us floating. Like the oxygen inlaced in driftwood. We're densities, varying. Fragile like a molecule, but as durable as atom. At the mercy of magnetism. Vibrating deep from the core. While waiting modestly for… nature to carry us home. Follow the coastline.

13

Escape into a bubble, held together by a vibration, that is resonating in my ears, then subtract and reduce, all thoughts, so that the remainder is only tiny calculations, pencil in hand, water running down the window, light bulb dimming.

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Sep 18, 2012

Sep 18, 2012 at 7:20 PM UTC

Between

Escape into a bubble, held together by a vibration, that is resonating in my ears, then subtract and reduce, all thoughts, so that the remainder is only tiny calculations, pencil in hand, water running down the window, light bulb dimming.

9

The beat of my heart, Has the rhythm of love, Harmonized by the breath of a girl, A girl with eyes blue as the sky, Blue like the ocean water, That danced beneath our last summer, Let winter come, Let the days pass by, I want the snow to return, My heart will say beating for you, In the rhythm of love, The deepest of reds.

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Sep 13, 2012

Sep 13, 2012 at 11:38 PM UTC

Ballad of a Beating Heart

The beat of my heart, Has the rhythm of love, Harmonized by the breath of a girl, A girl with eyes blue as the sky, Blue like the ocean water, That danced beneath our last summer, Let winter come, Let the days pass by, I want the snow to return, My heart will say beating for you, In the rhythm of love, The deepest of reds.

12

The Passing days From the beach water between my toes To the dense forest under my feet, the change has begun, My careless eyes are beginning to care, 2281 miles away from you, my eyes are taken by the thought of your face, Books are like foreign objects, the only thing that feels natural anymore, are the things I can't touch, The little things, are the only things, that make any sense, I hope once the rhythm is restored, So the dance can begin again.

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Aug 29, 2012

Aug 29, 2012 at 2:47 PM UTC

The Passing Days

The Passing days From the beach water between my toes To the dense forest under my feet, the change has begun, My careless eyes are beginning to care, 2281 miles away from you, my eyes are taken by the thought of your face, Books are like foreign objects, the only thing that feels natural anymore, are the things I can't touch, The little things, are the only things, that make any sense, I hope once the rhythm is restored, So the dance can begin again.

15

I've been driving this twisting road, Every turn changes me, My grip tightens on the wheel, I can't contain myself, A tempting blue eyed lady is waiting, She is only inches away, But we are are now a country apart, and every twist plucks another string, My heart aches, The windows are down, Her hair is blowing in the wind, I can see straight through, She is pure, She is perfect, She is my west.

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Aug 24, 2012

Aug 24, 2012 at 12:50 AM UTC

WestCoast Fever

I've been driving this twisting road, Every turn changes me, My grip tightens on the wheel, I can't contain myself, A tempting blue eyed lady is waiting, She is only inches away, But we are are now a country apart, and every twist plucks another string, My heart aches, The windows are down, Her hair is blowing in the wind, I can see straight through, She is pure, She is perfect, She is my west.

15