He’s not the ‘forever’ type.

He’ll take you to a park on your first date and ask you to dance to hungry eyes, and he’ll say ‘gosh, you’re intelligent - you’re not just smart, you’re intelligent’ and he’ll say it like there’s actually a difference.

On the second date he’ll make you fall in love. Not the ‘real’ kind of love but the heart racing, take-your-breath-away kind that says, ‘I don’t think I’ll ever meet anyone like this again.’

The cruelest thing he’ll do is let you believe you have a special place in his heart.

He’ll call at 10am or 10pm or halfway through dinner. He’ll call and your heart will lurch and you’ll swoon and laugh and pretend it didn’t hurt when he didn’t turn up last Saturday. He’ll call and you’ll drop your ego like you drop your knife and fork, and you’ll run straight to his front door.

And standing on his porch, you’ll smooth over your skirt and hair, and bite your bottom lip like a schoolgirl who hasn’t learnt her lesson, and he’ll answer the door and say, come, meet my friend. I’m teaching her to dance.

She likes hungry eyes too.

I promise the world isn’t as big as you think; there’s a safe place almost everywhere you go. And if you need to drop anchor, I would be the happiest shore. The sea doesn’t need anymore of your tears, but I would be happy to catch them, in the fabric of my cotton shirt, holding you against me. I love you and I want you to be okay. *Please always know that you can come home.

The sun sets sweetly as the sky steadily rolls in with clouds, while the weary wolf wanders where he can welcome his midnight maiden.

And as the twilight turns to night, this sorry sounding soul searches for a piece of serenity. The night brings out the wild in his heart and he howls haunting hymns towards the Welkins.

His crying pierces through the silence and he is welcomed by a satellite of light, shining softly through the dark. This wolf does not search for love and affection, because he is never without it. Each shout is simply serenades to the one being who will always welcome him warmly.

His songs are sometimes sweet, his songs are often sad. For the wolf howls to the night sky to beckon the moon to love him. She is his constant, his one true friend, and he will sing her serenity as she is the only soul that sings to his.

The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.

It saddens me when
people use poetry
to talk badly about someone else
Poetry is suppose to be fun
not a competive sport.
Why can't we
just all support one another
and be suggestive.
We all feel the same things.
We all be through alot;
that's what usually
makes a great poet.
So stop hating on people,
it is uncalled for.
This isn't middle school.
If you have a problem
with someone then
talk to them about
or block them...
Yes, hello poetry has a
block button**
feel free to use anytime
you have a problem someone
and get on with life.