BREATHTAKING
I would hold my last breath for you.
Hold it tight and never let go.
I feel a spark from far in my heart.
A trigger captured in my eyes.
A vision, a perfect image.
Held close while sleeping.
Omitted when awake,
pardon me not,
for these things,
for I do not understand,
Sparks generate fires at times,
leaving fingers charred and burned,
So for now at least desires concealed.
My breath is released.
Your precious image is saved,
So I can dream more,
until our next meeting.
Our eyes will rest.
Fast asleep in beautiful dreams.
(C) Livvi

As she holds a pen between her fingers,
She thinks of you,

As she starts writing on an empty paper,
She writes about you,

As she speaks about love in her poetry,
She speaks about you,

As she weeps her heart out while writing,
She weeps for you,

As she lends her pen to her thoughts,
Her thoughts are for you,

For you're her tragic poetry,
She's your poet she writes about you.

If I lost him
My heart would miss him forever

And my soul would never stop trying
To find pieces of him in someone else

By Chloe Elizabeth

I could make a home in the warmth of his arms,
my cheek pressed to his chest,
his pulse puncturing my ear,
breathing echoing in the small space.
The blue pools of his eyes could redefine the sky.
My ribcage could be occupied by his fingers
and we could be happy.

Sometimes I wonder if he was born
with those thin black fibers perfectly spread across his jaw
and that tired, intelligent shadow
beneath his eyelashes.
It was the swift eyebrow raises that got me.
It was the tiny smirks from across the room,
the glances,
the suggestion.
We were shoulders brushing,
eyes nestled on one another,
lowered voices,
pauses.

We were dangerous.