I trust you
You had only lust

I cared for you
You just wanted to share my bed

I loved you
Did every quixotic thing
You just wanted the ****** stuffs

Nothing left in me
With you was filled
So I had no roads left
But one.... ...... get you killed..

i am ready to move on
i want to stop writing about you.
for all these months
i have tried to remember you
but i am ready to forget.
so i hope that this will be my last poem about you
but i cannot promise that
because you always find your way back into my mind.
but this time
i am ready
i will move on
i will come back better and stronger.
you will no longer have a hold over me.
goodbye
and good riddance to you

You to me are warmth;
a kind of light that shows itself
in rays whenever you smile or speak.
I would say that you’re the sun,
but you’re sweeter then it’s shine
and your touch on my skin effects
me greater then that stars heat.
You ignite a kind of fire within me
that makes my insides feel as if
they are in some way melting.
I hope your summer stays because-
I don’t want to be cold again.

I thought I was okay.
I thought I was getting better,
finally getting over you.
But then there was a night that came;
I saw your face this time.
You were standing there,
as stunning as could be.
As much as I thought I didn’t want you to turn and look at me,
my heart pleaded for your attention,
even for a brief second.
Things happened that night;
not between you and I,
nor between the sun and the sky.
It was another love of mine.
Everything was shattering and it was my mistake.
It was deteriorating,
breaking at the roots.
But you were there,
and my heart skipped a beat.
I tried to pass it off,
but my heart wouldn’t budge.
That night I came to a realization:
I won’t be over you anytime soon.

- kmh

she writes beautiful poetry
but he doesn't understand a word that she says
it's like her metaphors sound out
in a different language when he hears them
and her speeches always fall flat to the floor

her heart is rough and callused
and it presents itself as a weapon
neither of them know how to control it

he hears her singing in his sleep
and he smiles from cheek to cheek
but when they're both awake again,
he misses his dreams

there is no love strong enough to compete
with the sound of her heart holding him in each beat

his smile melts her to a point of stickiness,
oozing plastic drips until it hardens her into shape again

their secrets tear each other open,
and as every thought sprouts legs and runs free,
the two of them get lost
while trying to get away
from their own truths

If you grow the flower
Of the holy spirit
You are a gardener