Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Fox Jan 7
I am black lace kissed with stardust
You are brilliant, well loved, faded tie-dye
Leaving the smell of campfires, afternoon naps
fresh showers, and sleepy smiles in your wake  
Bonfire flames licking the space between our skin
Heart beat rhythms drive the music
To sway against our heartstrings
Summer rain runs down us steaming
Feel your heat getting closer
warming my bones
melting my center
A shiver runs through me
So in tune, I pulse for you
Aching with the distance
That seems to always separate
Our good timing
I never knew quite how cold I was until I met you.
Fox Jan 6
he brought me flowers on our first date.  
I had never gotten flowers before

he brought me flowers on our second date

       I tell him he shouldn't have while smiling    expecting nothing more

he brought me flowers on our third date
    I tell him he needs to save his money..     this can't be sustainable

he brought me flowers on our fourth date

   I tell him he shouldn't waste his money on me

     not that the flowers aren't beautiful or
       appreciated I just worry he'll regret being so generous to someone that doesn't deserve it      

he brought me flowers on our fifth date

 I tell him he can't keep buying me flowers and ask him why would he waste his money on me?  

    he just shrugs and says pretty girls deserve flowers, it's worth it to me  as if it were that simple

I come home from our sixth date
  I stop and look around my home, filled with flowers, another bouquet in my arms

  apprehensive to trust this could be my new normal; consistent, loving, kindness without expectations, heart on your sleeve, gentle, earnest

     and to think that maybe, just maybe, after all this time

I might deserve it

 that maybe, just maybe

 I might be worth it
maybe it was always that simple
Fox Apr 2014
I wrote I love you in the sand at the beach
Tide swallowed the words and drowned them
But the waves were not the reason for impeding speech
My awkward asocial character is the one to condemn
  Now the words are gone like the tearstains on my sheets that I have just  bleached.
  Apr 2014 Fox
She combed her hair with the night sky
& then let loose those bits of stray galaxy that had embedded themselves in the wisdom of her follicles.
Fox Apr 2014
Why is black and white? I've always wondered about this... why my colorful photographs are required to travel back in time. How does this effect the poetry in any way, shape, or form? But I understand the wisdom of this design now. And it sets a great metaphor for all of the people of the pen involved in this truly noble motion, this secret society for people with passion, talent, and troubled minds and souls. Hello Poetry is black and white not because it has to be monochromatic and modern, but because us poets fill these pages with enough inovativeness and color already with our words, ideas, thoughts, songs, senryus, ballads, heartbreaks, insecurities, that adding literal color to this website would be overwhelming. These soft undertones of gray, black, and white may be considered drab and depressing to some, but to us poets it represents timelessness. And this is probably why we are all here. Hourly, daily, weekly, monthly, or even yearly publishing poems. Because we all know we are not going to live forever, and we are so entirely insignificant in the broad scheme of things and of the universe itself, that it is a bit comforting and helpful to have this coping mechanism or soft blankie to calm our fears, that this literature we write, however insignificant it may be, is absolutley permanent. And that maybe someday it will be remembered so a small bit of us may live on. Tom Riddle knew the needs and wants of man kind before anybody else realized it. Maybe he was just trying to cope with the fact that he is insignificant. These poems are all our Horcruxes so *viveamus per camenam nostram.
^^^let us live through our poetry
Fox Dec 2013
Ran outside, no shoes
Hot tears, cold wind, breathe it in
Attempt at another haiku..
Fox Dec 2013
What's Mickey without Minnie?
What's Tigger without Pooh?
What's Donald without Daisy?
What's me without you?

When Peter Pan can't fly
And when Simba never roars
When Alice can't
fit through small doors

And when Dumbo's ears
Are small
And when happily ever after
Isn't true

**That's when I'll stop loving you.
Next page