Whisper me how I am.

Tell them how I really am,
not a shell of me,
or a new body of me.

Tell my real thoughts,
my real values.

Tell how I looked under the moonlight,
when you whispered "I love you"
Right into my right ear.

Tell them how when I was down,
you came around, and held me tight.
Whispering that it would be alright.

Don't sit there and lie.

Don't tell them that I'm just another girl, because I'm not.

Please.

Whisper me how I am.

Love is a precarious thing
           A precious thing
When you're handed someones heart
               .......Hold it gently
Don't drop it or let it slip away
       Even when you can't love back
             For whatever reason you think
                  Care...
Care about them
      It's not too much to ask
Sometimes love is given
      With NO expectations
Simply because you're deserving
    There's nothing more to do
          Except, remember..
               Love is........
                       *A precious thing

Life has chosen you to contribute
And be a part of this beautiful journey
We, with our fellow travelers
Faced with so much history
And the numerous things that go on
It is the choices which propel us
To the future which is differentiated
From the past, because of us
The consequences staring at us
We have to have a sense of purpose
That reflects our hope and drive away fears
Everyday will be a new journey
Till we reach our destination

///
If I may not be wrong
even it is true
that everything is not for me at all
but when sometimes Camellia called me
I felt all loves were for me
and I thought
me for love
love for mine
and it grew my dream

If I may not be wrong
even it is true
that every Autumn will not be
played with my wish
when truly I felt that the Rose never withered
but it grew gray
and my dreams went away

If I may not be wrong
even it is true
that every hope will not be
staying tuned forever
In my springtime when kite flew in the blue sky
and it felt me as the bird's feather
the sky turned colored
it grew in my dream again

If I may not be wrong
even it is true
that every love is a real love
and when you told me that
you will be with me forever
the red Roses bloomed everywhere
it grew in my dream again
but when you went away
I felt that I was standing alone on the shore
my dreams flew away

If I may not be wrong
but again, when I felt the mild breeze blowing
two birds were singing together
and loving each other
the Spring sprung,
again I heard your voice on the shore
and you told me,
you would not be alive without leaving mine
and again, love grew in my dream

///
@Musfiq us shaleheen

Only 160 characters allowed.
It's a shame.
That limit restricts my emotions so much.
I can only type I miss you 20 times.
ImissyouImissyouImissyouImissyouImissyouImissyouImissyouIm­issyouImissyouImissyouImissyouImissyouImissyouImissyouImissyouImi­ssyouImissyouImissyouImissyouImissyou
But even if I could write it an infinite number if times
It wouldn't be enough

Repost if you miss someone badly. Or if you just really like the repost button.
Please comment! I love to read any thoughts you have on my poetry or poetry itself as an art! :)

What's it like to be liked?
To be the one who causes that jolt
In the chest of the one who sees them and likes them?
What's it like to be liked by someone who doesn't just like you because they found out you liked them and they wanted a girlfriend?
Because I have liked so, so many boys
Felt that rush if adrenaline when they walk by
Gotten nervous when they speak to me or meet my gaze
But I have never
Ever
Been on the other side of that
Never even been asked to dance more than one time
And it has been nearly two years since then
And he was basically ordered to ask me to dance
I don't dance
But what I'd give to be asked...
What I'd give to be liked...
What's it like to be liked?

Repost if you are lonely. Makes me feel less alone to know someone else Is too. Or if you have never been liked. Or if you just really like the repost button.
Please comment! I love to read any thoughts you have on my poetry or poetry itself as an art! :)

You're a hardcover novel I can't seem to put down with charming tea stains on your pages, endearing creased corners and torn edges I look upon fondly but I can't open you far enough to break the bind of your spine. I’ll keep trying though as I soak in and inhale every toxically flawless inky letter you are composed of, scribbling quotes from your chapters onto my wrists so I feel like I always have you with me until I know your story inside and outside, forwards and backwards, by heart. You have and immensely lovely and irresistible sleeve around you and a fascinatingly stirring summary for your description on the back but I’m more interested in what’s inside. It’s an incomplete tale though so I hope I get the chance to rewrite the rougher parts like the heartbreaking paragraphs of your past and maybe I’ll get to be a co-author for typing out your happy ending.

Please repost if you have ever experienced or are experiencing the budding beginnings of puppy love
Please comment! I love to read any thoughts you have on my poetry or poetry itself as an art! :)

I watch you
on this sultry afternoon
over under the flowering plum

back to the bark,
head bent over your
well loved acoustic,

fingers plucking,
stroking, strumming,
fondling... those strings

and I hear the notes
as they drift on the
breeze...
as I hang the bedsheets
on the washing line

the melody is
sweet, sweet seduction...
foreplay in three/four time

and I see in my mind
what those fingers...
strong, scarred and flexible
can do...
           to places sacred, tender
and oh! so divine...

followed by lips and mouth and all....
divinity sublime  and more....

I love to sit
In a building
Way up high
And look down at the ground
And see all of the people
The size of ants
And all the cars
Like the toys I once had
Hurry around
Walking, running, driving
Everyone is in a hurry
Somewhere to be
Somewhere to go
Faster, faster
They go
Each one with there one story
Relatively insignificant to everyone else
Only people in your life care
About you and your story
The same way only you care
About people's stories
Who are in your life
Everyone else is just a face
In the way
Walking past you
Driving your bus
Your train
Your taxi
Insignificant
A pawn that gets you where you want to be
So you can ccontinue your life
What if
We cared more
About these people
Probably others would think you are crazy
But maybe you would touch someone's heart
Change their life
Maybe smiling could be a social normalcy
If those ant sized people
Could slow down
For a moment
What would I see
Way up high
If the world became
A friendlier place