Your sweetness is the kind that stays even after coffee has gone cold,
like still bedsheets that have not been knotted by sleep.

Even after dust gathers, you're still here.

Little bites and notes of sweetness on my eyelashes, tops of my cheeks.

~
Underneath a crushing moonlit
Roses are dancing in a glow garden
Cram of comeliness whispering through my pensive
Applaud an agitating mind of dragging love
That submerging under a poetic passion
A wild **** of beauty wishing to crave a romance
Stressing on mind that makes
Bubbles of emotions simultaneously,
Touching and filling the empty dreams
That essence of heaven creating the melody of divine music
Passing through the poet's nose and nails
Deep ache  popping at the heart and stone
There render of love conceiving to catch a **** of heaven
A tangible gaiety that creates so surprising illusion
The glimmer chords becoming to splash
The utmost inflames growing to outburst,
Bursts into the fire of gaiety--
Psyche pouring a fathomless passion till the twilight
Where there I am dancing alone with my shadow,
Ah! my Love--
Oh! my Love ----
What a Crushing Moonlit!!  
~
@ Musfiq us shaleheen

You'd never find the beauty in the smell of the rain
The cool breeze that flows by when your skin is rosy and sunburnt
The intricate details of a wet drop on a cigarette
From the tears of mourning and saddened green hues

You will never understand why she prefers to run outside in bare feet
Feeling each leafy blade of grass against the soles of her surface
The way the sugary ray of sun hits the spots of her form that exentuate her soft lips
Or bouncy curls of individual strands of red hair

You don't understand why you feel she is happier than you would ever be
She's sees the beauty in everything
Including you

Daughter,
you are a cathedral.
Your ribs rise in vaulted grace,
the nave of your mouth stands open,
and cloister arms,
extend.
Your skin's stretch marks
are etched like stained glass,
Flame light flickers in your eyes.
Wonder of time and art,
made by divine hands,
You are more beautiful than Notre Dame
and all her souls.

When the men come to pray,
Do not let them
desecrate this house.
Stand unshaken,
as the bombs burst around you.
You will tremble.
But you will not fall.

Enfold the weary pilgrim
who comes to you by night.
Sanctuary
he will say.
And find it, in you.

A woman with curves is still a woman with words
You can ignore the fact that there are fragile cobwebs of veins and capillaries keeping her heart pumping
Pumping so fast just for you
She is not just a pretty face with a tiny waist
Smooth thighs and plump lips
She holds a good head on her pale shoulders
Although her gorgeous brown hues are distracting
You cannot forget that she is beautiful
Not externally, but her knowledge, traits, hobbies
Things that she is passionate about creates a glimmer in her eyes
That you would never see while staring down her shirt
She knows you are bad for her, but reminding you of her favorite books, philosophers, and art keeps her there
The traits you know about her don't seem to matter
When her delicate fingers trace down your spine
She is trying to recreate the feeling she gets when you look at her
The way her lips curl in a smile at the sight of you
Is ignored by your eyes wandering to the roundly shape of her body
You will never love her like she deserves

"The last time I missed him was when I had just come inside from smoking a cigarette
Cold shivers racing down my spine and spreading across my skin like a thin sheet of lacy ice
Covering every inch of my pale, freckled surface
The cold licked under my clothes and made my teeth chatter

He would grab my Popsicle-temperatured fingertips and hold them in his magma hands
The exchange of touch warming the blood in my veins
Capillaries dilate, and my heart swells
He holds me in his arms while rocking me side to side
Kissing my forehead, warming every unsettling physical feeling
Holding a candle to my heart
My core is on fire.

That happens every night before I sleep
And unlike you, I don't have someone to curl up next to the bed at night when I'm cold
So yes,
I am turning up the temperature, *****."

I feel empty, like someone has stolen things from inside of me. Nothing can fill the emptiness, nothing can change how this feels. No person can replace what I've lost.  
Anything that helps is all but temporary. She'll be gone by sunrise, and the feeling will return. Nothing
Can ever change how I feel, it's all just veils to shade the holes where pieces were torn from.
Nobody will ever know about my
Missing pieces.

When trying to remove certain individuals from your life, close the door completely behind them when they leave
Do not allow little cracks or openings
There will always a breeze that will gush through, and it will remind you of the most intricate yet beautiful memories

The way their hands ran against the indents and bumps of your freckled skin
The way their lips pressed against your delicate soft spots, and made butterflies flutter through your veins
The way their familiar voice rumbled through your body and shook you to the bone with every syllable of their words
The way they smell when their lips are centimeters away from yours, radiating heat and longing before a kiss
The way they taste of alcohol and desire, the aroma lingering on your own taste buds as his tongue dances with yours
The way he pulls you closer, longing and want flickering through his brilliant hues as he gazes into yours

You start to remember the dimples or unique marks that covered his golen skin
The way his cuticles and fingernails were well taken care of
How he liked to spay cologne on the side of his neck and spread it with a rough hand
The way he walked towards you after being apart, as if you were the most priceless and beautiful jewel
The glistens of sparks and warmth that formed in your core and spread through your blood at the mere thought of his genuine smile

It's the little reminders that gush through the opened cracks of the door you did not lock behind them when they left

The cold wind will always blow through and lick at your skin, forming a lacy sheet of ice on your very surface

Once you have chilled to the bone, the memories and details are the only thing you have that warm your broken heart strings and ease you of your pain

Eventually you will want to be warm again, so you open the door and allow them to pummel through the layers of ice and heartache with a sinister smile engraved on their lips

They know you will never break through the shackles that are holding you from freedom.

But you think it is okay to allow him to come back, because him warmth allowed you to feel your own hands now...