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 Dec 2017 rachel
helena alexis
being a poet in love
means writing down
every single emotion
you’ve ever felt on to paper

it means turning simple things
about a person into
deep details that only
you would notice

such as when the one you
love simply smiles at you
that could turn into
“his mouth turned upward into
a small smile upon his cheeks
making my stomach erupt
into tiny butterflies”

it means writing every single
interaction you’ve had with that
person and turning it into something
poetic and beautiful even if it’s as
simple as a smile

it means letting your heart
do the writing for you as the
emotions pour out of your mind

but it also means heartbreak
lots and lots of heartbreak
having your heartbroken
even helps poets write about
being in love

it’s hard being a poet in love
because we can never find
someone who truly wants
to be written about
wrote this for a contest enjoy
 Dec 2017 rachel
rhiannon
here’s the damnedest thing about “hopeless romantics”:

they’ll splinter their own bones into kindling
to build the fire that warms you,
as if putting a match to their insides
might cauterize the wounds
left behind by the greedy lovers and too-rough hands
that set their hearts to bleeding in the first place

you see, the poets spared no pains when they dubbed
the especially romantic “the hopeless

they are hopelessly betrothed to the warfare,
the burning insanity
of a soul madly in love with love—
the way the heart rages against the brain.
 Jul 2017 rachel
m
nocture
 Jul 2017 rachel
m
you tiptoe through the darkness
towards me, kissing my palm,
my forearm, my shoulder
my neck, my lips.

we lay here, yes, here,
and you caress me until,
like butter, or a sno-cone,
i have melted in your hands.

my bed is a sanctuary
and we've come to pray.
two strangers, comfortable,
knowing everything, and nothing.
i can't stop smiling, you can't
stop calling me out on it.
you whisper, 'you better not
fall in love with me or something.'
 May 2017 rachel
Born
she's a corrosive story
Hidden within a mirror
Never to be heard again

As I gulp down my favorite cheap *****
I wondered  with amazement at my ignorance
And the vicious adage that crippled me
love is blind

You were a ruthless callous soul
and still
remnants of your cold heart still linger in my thoughts
loving you was devastating
 May 2017 rachel
Rachel Ace
Thought of all those stones hitting my window

The crush lover is like a austere sword
Marble frames
Blue veins

Ducheess ice skies
Pure white sheets
Padded look
Wavy gold hair
Lighthouse freckles reflections

The spellcaster in her room
Gentle sender
Captivating eyes
Creator of edens

She prepares her cotton spell
Si           tele             swee
lk           pa              ts
thy
Mi        dia                 du
lk         mond        st

Thought of all those instants gemstones pictures

- Codelandandmore //23:50 PM ©
Gold hair
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