I think you take my breath away.
People always say that as an endearing thing.
But I think you actually physically take my breath away.
I don't know how.
Maybe it was when you layed your head on my chest.
Or tangled your fingers with mine.
Or felt safe enough to drift off to sleep in my arms.
All I know is that I think you take my breath away.
I just wish I was surer of you.
Because I want that feeling for eternity.
But I don't think you are my eternity.
For those who know what it feels like
Your infectious smile,
Like a drug with uncontrollable side effects.
That real, genuine laugh,
Sweet like damp pines.
Those piercing, beautiful eyes,
Sharp enough to rip through my chest and suffocate my heart.
The lips that drew me in,
Like rosy vines tugging at my soul.
Your fine brown hair,
That tangled my mind with absolute rapture.
Arms of ivory gold,
Wrapping me safely with false bliss.
Your angelic body,
Tailored so perfectly to mine like destiny.
A soothing voice of honey,
I could listen to for hours with a simper reply.
That is just the beginning,
Of what makes you lovely.
Only the start,
To a story of your undying loveliness.
For My Love
People write such cliche poems.
True love that goes on for lifetimes.
A gray city in the rain, colored only by the music of life.
Hot coffee entrenching the soul with warmth in the crisp autumn.
The perfect snowflake landing on the nose of his winter angel.
The smell of northern pines after a heavy storm.
Her unparalleled footprints in the sand with each angelic step.
Tailgate stargazing on an ideal summer night, hands intertwined.
But isn't that what poetry is all about?
The most heartfelt descriptions about the broadest of beautiful moments?
For those who write, feel, and everything else
You are indescribably beautiful.
More than your breathtaking smile.
Or the way you look at me with those gorgeous brown eyes.
You are beautiful in this supernatural way that makes me yearn for an explanation.
It is such a beauty that makes me feel complete.
A tremendous burst of euphoria and bliss just by the thought of you.
Your bewitching emanation that makes my soul electrify.
As if we were split in a ****** world to search for one another.
Your immense beauty that is far beyond the physical.
It makes me suffer in the most amazing way.
Forces me to watch every careful step,
To not shatter the perfection of a thousand lifetimes.
A beauty that makes the world seem brand new and brilliant.
You make the flowers bloom fuller,
The grass greener,
And the birds sing finer.
You are the deity my heart has struggled to search for,
The divinity my soul has craved,
And the magnificence I have only dreamt of.
Your presence makes this life hold a more significant meaning.
You are the loveliest being,
I have ever had the pleasure of sharing an existence with.
You cause this intoxication in my very soul,
And make my heart skip every beat in the most tremendous way.
You have brought new meaning to my life.
Things that were once a blur now makes sense.
You have given love "at first sight" a true meaning.
For My Future Love
I write about the stars too much.
I blame you.
Eyes holding galaxies in sweet captivity.
That starstruck feeling when you look at me.
Lips that taste of constellations.
Ecstacy of cosmic proportions.
Words drawing me in like a black hole.
Your body, like a goddess swimming in stardust.
Accidental perfection parallel to the Milky Way.
Your laugh as bright as a thousand supernovas.
Heart made of stars, filling the space in my own.
I write about the stars too much.
But really, I just write about you, the best of them all.
For The One You Love
I guess you could say that I get jealous easily.
I'm the type of guy that will break out in a sweat when my girlfriend talks about something she hated about her ex.
My hands shake at the thought that she probably said those three exclusive words to another guy, and maybe even meant it.
I'm sorry to the ex that I punch in the nose because you say, "Hi", to her in the halls.
But in truth, I'm not.
I feel rage bubbling in my stomach like magma when I hear his ******* name, that I can only guess you've tried on in the past.
My knuckles ****** themselves when a Facebook memory with his face shows up.
Smirking at me like he knows how much it makes me want to grab his throat and squeeze till my fingers break.
But once I'm inevitably left all alone, then I'm the ex-boyfriend I want to slaughter with all the black contempt that sticks in my throat like blood.
So I guess you could say I easily get jealous.
To those who occasionally hate
It beats stories.
It throbs symphonies.
It shutters like butterflies.
It shatters like glass.
It spews desire.
It drips lust.
For The Ones Who Love
Love is like a book in many ways,
And you are the author.
There is a beginning which can be shaped in many ways.
A middle or present which is carried out based on the first chapter.
But whether or not there is an end is up to you.
If you write the rest of the book good enough,
Then the rest of it never has to stop.
If it's the perfect story,
It can be written in volumes.
Each letter spun together,
With the heartstrings of a desperate lover.
Every word written in care with tears,
From her heartbroken cheeks.
Every paragraph dripping,
With the eternal hope for the future.
Despite the low point of some chapters,
There will always be a turn of events for the better.
This creates a story that can go on for thousands of lifetimes,
Like that of the love, he holds in the highest esteem for her.
Love is like a book that never ends,
Only if it is true and pure.
For My Love
Skin like flowing flames
Eyes like infernos
Lips that make you spill every drop of your desires
Soft sharp fingers brushing sins into your soul
A voice like boiling honey
Promises of wild fantasies
Contracts in blood
All tricks of the Devil himself
For the curious sinners
My interests include
Reading old love poems,
And reading the volumes in your eyes.
Writing new love poems,
And writing our future together in my mind.
Drinking hot tea in the middle of summer,
And drinking the words that your lips spin together like silk.
Listening to the late spring birds,
And listening to the heartbeat in my ears when you look at me.
Watching the stars in the dead of night,
With you in my arms and our bodies breathing together.
But my greatest interest above all else,
Is just you and every way you make me feel.
For my love
You make me feel like the man I've always aspired to be,
And the little, scared kid I used to always be.
At first, I wasn't sure,
Too much running through my head.
But once we were there on your couch,
Sharing warmth and asylum.
My heart raced like it hadn't in years,
My mind going a thousand miles an hour.
Once you fit your hands in mine,
And curled up beside me.
It felt safe and natural,
Like we had been here before.
Your genuine smile and cute laugh,
At every terrible joke I made.
Your smell remained on my left shoulder sleeve,
And your phantom fingers softly brushing.
It all felt natural.
It all felt right.
At least for tonight.
For those falling somewhere for someone
Love is like nicotine.
Once you've tried it once, you can't get enough.
You say you can live without it.
But you know you're lying to yourself.
That's why heartbreak physically hurts.
The way withdrawals physically hurt.
It makes you sick to your stomach.
You say it's the last time.
But it's not.
It's the final act, for now.
You can try to take a long break from it.
But it always comes slithering back.
Like a shadow you can't hide from.
You can't stop thinking about it.
You sit through your normal life.
Thinking about when your next fix is.
It fills your lungs and makes you feel good.
But shortly after you feel it in your stomach.
Like a poison slowly killing you.
Nicotine is like love.
Love, or lack thereof, can hurt
(read it all backward now)
Don't get coffee.
Don't kiss her.
Don't fall in love.
Don't think about her every moment.
Don't let those blue eyes pierce your soul like they have time and time again.
Don't let those lips poison your mind with the stinging venom of her serpent heartstrings.
Don't do it again expecting something to change with a happily ever after.
Don't convince yourself that you're done falling.
Don't think for a second it's over.
Don't forget it's just starting again.
Fall in love.
The last time.
For the confused and in love. But hey, what's the difference?
You’re like a storm.
But in the best and most beautiful way.
The kind of storm that happens all of a sudden on the most average of days.
You’re like a hurricane coming into my life and tearing away the ugly grey buildings and leaving only the green freedom to overgrow my heart again.
Like a thunderstorm that pours out love filled raindrops to fill my soul and grow back the childlike happiness that's slowly been deprived of its pure ecstasy.
Like the tsunami-sized tidal waves that wash away my lost ambitions and filthiness.
A blizzard that whitewashes my view with your unmistakable perfection and pulchritude.
The flash flood that appeared into my life at the snap of a finger and since that death-defyingly moment my love for you has only grown.
You’re the faultless storm that has taken my heart, life, and soul into steady hands and locked them all within yourself.
Since then, I’ve never looked back and never will.
You’re the perfect storm.
For My Love
I write in the midnight corner of now and what is to come. Sifting through the ashes of the forgotten. I seek what I fail to find in a light I can scarcely see. The rain washes the sins from my skin so that the ones inside can bleed back out. My words catch the air with gentle, intense passion. I caress the broken cheek hoping to fix it and finding only myself more broken. I know not of what is to come but I can prepare myself with the ammunition of my past. The brittle autumn wind calms me with the vibrant colors of a dying world. My mind wanders into the absent recesses of my twisted imagination. The words I write copy the voices in my torn heartstrings. I lust for the cold rain fingers that embezzle my mind. My soul is painted with the bright blackness of a blackhole's laughter. There is a butterfly caged in my stomach and I'm too afraid to let it free.
- - -
When will I know that I've found rapture?
For the broken and lost like me
We're all rebels WITH a cause.
We all have something that we would put above all else.
For all the rebels out there
I still feel you in my arms.
Still looking at the heavens together,
With the galaxies in our eyes.
Still breathing in unison,
Our living souls crash like roaring seas with every inhale,
And calming them with each exhale.
Still whispering destinies in your ear,
Feeling your hold around me tighten with hopefulness.
Still together in what felt like fate,
The moment that was forever.
Still, steady heartbeats,
Softly throbbing into each other.
Stillness that never ended,
And the anticipation for it to be broken,
By the sweetness of your soft, lively kiss.
Wishing for that night back.
For My Love
Let's go skate,
Wear all black,
And day dream,
In the dead of night.
For the young ones
I'm so scared.
When will it finally stop?
How am I really supposed to feel?
Where must I look to truly find it?
For those who ask
For those stuck in a moment of unsure bliss
My eyes bleed with exhaustion.
My thoughts are fuzzy like my brain is stuffed with styrofoam.
My body sinks into the ugly carpet floor of my basement.
My mouth tastes sour with the flavor of an unslept soul.
I lie here writing instead of sleeping because it feels like the only thing I can do well, consciously.
My back aches with an elders pain at late seventeen.
I crave the warm embrace of my bed but am too stuck like sap to move.
I'm rambling here in my brain instead of resting my frigid existence.
My thoughts are slow and choppy now with the hesitation of drifty words.
My rusted, chipping ears hear nothing but silence and a distant coo-coo clock.
The chirps of a bird only found in my dark, dusty insanity.
The world weighs upon children such as these in a universe such as this.
I'm just, tired. Tired...
Take it as you will. This **** is crazy.
Why is it that when I start to feel alive,
It feels like the wrong thing to do?
Why is it that I am convinced that I don't deserve the greatness I'm gifted?
Why is it that the warmth I feel is always quickly faded and frozen?
Why is it that when it feels like the final victory, the war is just beginning?
Why is it that I am secretly the monster I swore to despise?
When will my soul be freed?
How do you put such profound emotions into words?
Do you paint them onto the page like a gentle brush swooping and sliding?
Do you shout them from the stage into an audience of frightened eyes?
Do you quickly write them down with a stern ballpoint scratching into blank paper?
Do you whisper them softly into curious ears with gentle and intimate intention?
Do you scream them at your memories till your throat burns?
Or do you silently stare at the sky and think them into the abyss?
— The End —