Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Those who have no want
life's battles they have won!
In the heart of a tempest, where shadows collide,  
A storm brews with secrets, where dark feelings hide.  
The sky shatters open, with a roar so profound,  
Each clap of the thunder, a truth that resounds.  

Beneath the turmoil, a whisper takes flight,  
Of love lost to echoes, swallowed by night.  
Like lightning that dances, ephemeral, bright,  
It pierces the silence, revealing the plight.  

In the stillness that lingers, I bear all the weight,  
Memories crash like waves, a fierce, unkind fate.  
Your laughter, a melody, now echoes with pain,  
I chase fleeting shadows, but they fall like the rain.  

The moments we cherished, now ghosts in the mist,  
A tapestry woven, yet frayed at the wrist.  
The colors of joy fade, replaced by the gray,  
As thunder rolls louder, drowning love’s sway.  

But in the eye of the storm, a flicker ignites,  
A promise of dawn, as the darkness takes flight.  
Hope whispers softly, through the crack of the sky,  
Each bolt of the lightning, a reason to try.  

Though tears may cascade, like rivers unbound,  
In the chaos of longing, new strength can be found.  
For every heart shattered, like glass in the rain,  
Can rise from the ashes, and learn how to gain.  

Desire swells boldly, a fire in the night,  
A wild, untamed passion, that sets hearts alight.  
In the chaos of feelings, we learn to embrace,  
The beauty of longing, the thrill of the chase.  

Each heartbeat a thunderclap, a drum in the dark,  
A symphony raging, igniting the spark.  
We dance through the tempest, with fervor and grace,  
As lightning strikes twice, in love’s tender embrace.  

Yet pain weaves its thread, through the fabric of time,  
A haunting reminder, like a lost nursery rhyme.  
The ghosts of the choices we yearn to forget,  
Haunt the corners of dreams, a familiar regret.  

The thunder reminds me of nights filled with tears,  
Each flash of remembrance, a mirror of fears.  
But what if the storm could wash clean the slate?  
What if lightning brings forth a new kind of fate?  

As the tempest subsides, and the clouds drift away,  
A soft, gentle breeze brings a promise of day.  
The sky wears a blush, painted gold by the sun,  
And the battles of heartache, at last, feel like fun.  

For storms teach us lessons, that sunshine can't hold,  
In the chaos, we gather our stories retold.  
With every dark moment, the thunderous call,  
We learn how to rise, how to stand proud and tall.  

Now, in the aftermath, with each drop of rain,  
I find solace in knowing, that joy follows pain.  
With arms open wide, I embrace what’s to come,  
In the thunder and lightning, my heart has found home.  

So let the storms gather, let the tempests arise,  
For love is a power that never truly dies.  
In the dance of the thunder, and the flash of the light,  
I’ll embrace every hue, in this whirlwind of night.  

For through all the heartache, the laughter, the tears,  
I find in the storm, the beauty of years.  
In thunder and lightning, I hear love’s sweet refrain,  
A symphony of feelings, like sunshine after rain.  

So here’s to the storms, and the thunderous might,  
To the lightning that strikes, illuminating the night.  
For every tempest that rages, every heart that it stings,  
Is a chance for rebirth, and the hope that it brings.  

In the whirlwind of feelings, where heartache may reign,  
I’ll dance through the chaos, through joy and through pain.  
For the thunder and lightning, they sing of my soul,  
A testament of love, that forever makes me whole.
The wind dances through your hair,
your steps—light, effortless air.
Have you ever seen it?
The way eyes turn—
watching you move,
watching you twirl.

You sway like a butterfly,
spreading joy as you pass by.
A vision of beauty, soft yet bright,
your presence lingers in my mind.

But did you ever realize?
Beyond the glow of worldly grace,
it’s your optimism—radiant, rare—
that makes you truly beautiful.
bite ye humans, gnash your teeth
feed on blood ye hypocrites
but there in corner, 'neath the ash,
there's a nobody worth all your stash

he doesn't speak or power seek
he won't tread upon your toes,
he's still as water, in thought as deep,
that he exists no-one knows.

but around him the universe goes
in that silence that no-one knows,
and he'll be here when you're gone,
Western culture like Babylon.
Once a month at least
sometimes more but never less
I go through his trash
And I find little pieces of paper, cuttings and hearts
pages with drafts of heartfelt love letters

It makes me wonder what goes through his mind when he's doing it,
does her trash also show all the hidden work
all the poetry just not good enough to show
how much she loves him?
Just wondering you know
Next page