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Rahama  Mar 2018
4u
Rahama Mar 2018
4u
There are so many things
That I could do
To prove that I'm in love with you
But why would I do them?
You never did 'em
And I know that you love me
So you should also know that
I love you
Without me trying to prove it
By doing those things 4u
Even though I could do anything 4u

My love
4u
Is crystal clear and visible
For the whole world to see
That you're the only one for me
For them to be jealous of us
That I got someone that loves me so
And that you got a gyal that could do anything
4u.
Thank you for reading. Hope you enjoyed it.
EmVidar  Jan 2022
4u
EmVidar Jan 2022
4u
Trapped
between my thighs
****** out of our minds
we made promises
our kisses
made lies
bri  Nov 2020
4u
bri Nov 2020
4u
stars that fall, and those that shine,
in the darkest of days, you give me light
so big and wide like the vast galaxy
your smile is comfort please be happy
a very short one and one of my faves :(
Jamie L Cantore Feb 2017
I ne'er half thought of you as best
Painted, frozen on canvas, still, set?
Static & unmoving...  but I do rest
In my bet you feign'd it. The man Thus, he is as a criminal! If hold he Must you as possession -Beauty's Pageant.
A sun proving to ne'er grow Stagnant.
Go'th then, swept in wind, smooth &
Seminole, with no frame to so seal In
YOUth within his lines -rather reel In
Lines of my rhymes to sustain YOU Ever
Both A's & Q's. No pause, Sure Forever.

Inks & links rather than oils soon Cracked &
Dried out, faded with careless Neglect
And old Time, proving Spell checked
Words, ripen'd on a vine, (freely repro-
Duced,) is better than stretchers 2 show
In one place, wired/hooked on a dim wall
Of your captor. His penchant 2 refuse call,
Or to face, why your smile wert so small.
Unbeknownst to the brushed up painter,
Who with gobbledygook stained your
Heart, but took you as his Sitter bitterly.
So if your Silence art your bitter Mystery,
Then book Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall
As my pen chants only 4u -a wonderwall.
Wonderwall- Barrier which separates the mundane from a transcendent Reality which has a slit where the observer catches a glimpse of what lies beyond.

Not a reference to an imaginary friend who saves you from yourself.


A's=Answers Q's=Questions or (Cues.)

The Argument: Writing is a better way to sustain a person, because when copies are made of the original words, they still have the same value as opposed to copies of a painting. Also, a portrait locks the Sitter within the parameters of the frame, whereas the lines of verses set the subject free.

Or perhaps she is better painted now that I put things in perspective, if she is both the canvas and the paint -I will let that sink in for a while. Update* Did anyone fig it out? I  half-implied she is self absorbed... Lol
Paul Butters  Aug 2015
Just 4 U
Paul Butters Aug 2015
K, so here’s the deal,
English will change,
Goi!
Gr8 eh?
Lol.
B4u know it, all changed.
Fyi some call it Textese or SMS Language.
But through will become thru
And though of course tho
Anyway.
Goi.
K so this poem might not trend,
But I’m way ahead of my time,
That’s my Msg.
N2u tho that may b.
That things must change,
That is.
8 it don’t u?
Such g9.
Scary Tbh.
4 me and 4u.
(Bm&y;).
(I prefer you as yu it's tru).
Just Gfi is wot I say.
Even when Prw!
Somy?
Sotmg.
Soz
Laters – Sbtsbc.
Ttfn and bfn.
Say.
Sit my friend.

Paul Butters

© PB 13\8\2015.
Looking to the future......(You may need a Textese Dictionary)!
Blakbuttafly89  May 2018
4U
Blakbuttafly89 May 2018
4U
every time my heart cries out for you
my pen bleeds black or blue
painting words of mystery to describe how I feel about you
my hunni bun my love the last person i wanna see at night and the first as the sun rise u my boo
Boaz Priestly  Sep 2022
4u&i
Boaz Priestly Sep 2022
sore and sweaty in the
dishpit at work,
well-worn boots on my feet
that i’d had for years before
i even knew what the words
queer and trans meant

and the black jeans that
i’ve been wearing for two days
to go with the black box dye
staining my hair

laura jane grace sings to
me through the radio
speakers about being androgynous

and i think about my gender then,
feel the ridges stretch where *******
once sat when i reach just far enough
to grab more dishes stacked beside me

mostly, i think about how
my girlhood felt like the steel jaws
of a spring loaded trap,
and no matter how hard i tried,
i could never gnaw off my
own limb to get free

i think of the testosterone for
a little over five years,
and a double mastectomy,
and the $200 to change my
name and gender marker

i ran from my girlhood
as far and fast as i could,
into the arms of the man
i made myself to be

and then i think of you,
long hair and longer legs,
twirling around in that skirt
i gave you

your womanhood is a gift,
one that i am forever humbled
to witness you reveling in,
watching you embrace everything
that i felt held back by

for you, to be a woman
is not a steel trap,
nor a choke-chain
or something to run from

for you,
to be a woman is a
beautiful thing,
and how beautiful you are

— The End —