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Come with me darling
Let's leave this place behind
Let's pack up everything and go
It's just a little cliché I know.
So let's leave without our sanity.  
And swallow cyanide at afternoon tea.
I spend my days *****
Ink running from my fingertips.
Spilling the blackness of my soul over your paper thin skin every written sin sinking within you.

Can you withstand my words
Tearing at your flesh like a natural disaster
tempting your heart to beat faster, forcing you to see the storm in my eyes.
Unmasking the darkness I fantasize.
You are the living embodiment of spring, bringing to life what winter took away.
 Sep 2016 Wanderer
Stephan
.

Hi there, how are you
I'm happy you stopped by
I really like the poems
you've been writing

You worded them so nice,
the phrases made me smile
I read them and my thoughts
begin igniting

I learn so many things,
from your creative work
You've taken me to places
I’ve not seen

The endings were superb,
your stanzas so enchanting
I felt as if I slipped
into a dream

You touched my lonely heart,
while I just sat here reading
Hoping when I did
it would inspire

So I could write like you,
express a thousand feelings
About this special woman
I desire

For I am so in love,
she makes my body tingle
More beautiful than I’ve  
seen anywhere

And when I kiss her lips,
completely mesmerizing
Like heaven sent an angel
down to share

My life is not the same,
whenever she is with me
To hold her in my arms,  
it feels so good

So thank you for your words,
the poems you’ve been posting
They help me out just like
I hoped they would

Now I am off to read
some more amazing poems
That I now find are scattered
on this site

And thanks for stopping by,
you wondrous hello poets
Keep writing and I wish you all
good night
I learn something every day from all of you amazing poets on this site. Thank you so much for your words and inspiration. I appreciate each and every one of you.
 Sep 2016 Wanderer
Pagan Paul
I tip my hat to the Poetess,
the Word Witch whose spin enthralls,
with language arranged in patterns,
and verse that often calls.

Her art is to conjure images,
the Sorceress whose quill entrances,
with phrase beautiful in texture,
and a word that often dances.

Her creations are her offspring,
the High Priestess whose rhymes capture,
with stanza's keen in construction,
and meanings that evoke pure rapture.


© Pagan Paul (24/07/16)
 Aug 2016 Wanderer
mike dm
there is
so much
of

some
thing, rare

and (for ******* once)
actually worthwhile,

that never
gets out.

it plays intermittently
behind shuttered eye;
each new rerun cutting, polishing,

while we watch,
almost (it seems) completely passive  -
transfixed by the whatif.

it is ghost.
nothing more.

try to capture it, it
comes out rote
on lit walls tall; with
chairs chairs and
floors and stairs
and balconies and stage and

nobody is there.
none of them came out.
they roll in like storms
upon a quiet shore…
these memories
unforgiving in their clarity
yet i protect them
nurture them
your twisted, unwavering distrust
enveloped me in it's pain
and fed your misguided cruelty
i lived to enable you
for a glimpse of love
would appear from the shadows
in those rare, quiet nights
when you allowed yourself to love me
the few moments i remember
being alive
 Aug 2016 Wanderer
Torin
I am nothing more to give
I've painted the sky the color of your eyes
And etched into stone your name
Blood of my veins
My love
I am nothing more to give
I've ripped half-drunken at clouds
And spelled your dreams with stars
Heart of my heart
My love
My life
I laid it all down
On the line and at your feet
I sacrificed my skin
My salvation and my sin
I gave it away
All that I feel
That is real
Until now it's no longer me
My fingertips
My heartbeat
My emptiness
The way it is
I am nothing left to give
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