I wrote a poem
hoping to give
it to you, will you
even read it?

I wrote it with an aching
heart, will you
ever read it?

The poem I wrote
was given a melody,
will you, will you
even hear it?

I am not a singer
nor a great writer
but will you
even hear my
heart?

will you?


© Pax

I lost yet found
a piece of myself
there with you
in the moonlight
I lost my heart
it is no longer mine
but now lies inside yours
My soul was found that night
between the trees
and water of the steam
I found it in a place
I never thought to look
in another...
in your heart.

I found it in your words
...I love you
Tentatively
I felt them twist
their way inside me
sinking further
than any other
They reach through me
waking a desire
I didn't know existed
A helpless passion

I found it in your touch
softly
like feathers
yet it was capable
of breaking down
these walls
I built up high
around me
You touched me
like no other
timidly yet possessively
you stole my heart

I found it in you


©ShawnaRenea

love is a word
love is a verb
love is not outspoken afterthoughts
it is laughs
and your hair in the wind
the flowers grazing the
tip of my nose
as I breathe you in;
it is not a melancholy vibration
overtaking my entire being
as if I am not worthy
of the word of love..
but this body made of decaying wood
and rusty bolts is no longer
the home for this lingering hopelessness
I once called home
love is a verb
that could only beg to describe your active
presence.
love is an adjective for the way I feel when you laugh over nothing and our endless sorries.
love is a noun because it is who you are
to me.

If you were given a chance
To be with your family,
Be with your family.

If you were given a day off
Out of your hectic working days,
Rest yourself, get a quality one.

If you were given a person
For you to love and be loved,
Be grateful, you've been chosen!

For,
Everything is temporary,
Nothing lasts forever,
Appreciate while you can.

Even if you've been;

Holding on for years,
Fighting the battle alone,
Staying strong with patience,
Giving your effort to the fullest.

But if none of the above make sense
To the person who's supposed to,
You'll eventually reach to your limit,
To stop giving in,
Like you used to do.

Then you'll whisper to yourself,
"This is not my loss"