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Your Love is like a Rose with Thorns
I am not sure what I see is the Red of Your Rose
Or the Red of my Blood
Because I am not sure if my hands touched the Rose
Or the Thorns


To Love You is to Love a Red Rose
The Red of my blood blend in so well
With the Red of Rose
Because every time my hands reach out for your Heart
All they hold are the scorching thorns on the Rose


I'll write to you when I can
But the ink will be my blood
But these hands bleed every time they reach out
Reach out for You

May you go where you're appreciated, may your love be understood, may your heart be filled with laughter and care. May your reflection never be shallow as the cold desert on a hot morning. May your smile remind your lover of a shooting star among other stars, a miracle to always look forward to.
I walked this earth,
Unaware of light.
A blindfold covered my weary eyes.

From day to night,
Roaming all alone.
My skin,
Like snow,
As cold as ice.

But you came along,
To warm my blood.
Took off the blindfold,
To show me love.

I am true and renewed,
And grateful for us.
This poem is an appreciation of the ones we love !
I have been granted
The gift, of you.
A sweet, joyous angel,
With a heart made for two.

Your precious soul,
So radiant of light.
Beaming greatly,
From day till night.

My heart is full,
When yours is too.
For a blessing like you,

I refuse to lose.
This poem is special, as it is about someone in my life who I was blessed with months ago. This person is incredible and a true gift. If they are reading this, I hope you know how much you truly mean to me!
Francis Nov 2023
You are in heaven, when she loves you.
You are in hell, when she scorn.
Her eyes have the power to shrivel your soul down to an insignificant little raisin.
Her smile melts bodies into congealed mush.

Without her say so, I’m merely anonymous,
A vagabond, some *****,
Trotting through the fields, outside of her heart,
Hoping to gain entry past the gates.

The scent of her, intoxicating,
Like laughing gas,
A jovial inebriant,
As tranquillizing as her wholesome chortle.

Who or what am I, by comparison,
Without her eyes, her skin,
The taste of her lips,
A sip of blackberry brandy.

Her legs, more perfect, refined than David,
Between them, the Holy Grail of contentment,
Where life begins, where it can end,
At her say so— her command.

******* crafted by the hands of God,
I marvel at the sight of such beauty,
In such a grotesque world,
That she owns with her movement as graceful as the wind.

She makes me quiver, like salt on a slug,
As her silky, slick locks flip over her shoulders,
Those shoulders, help me,
Forget Greek architecture.

How dangerous it can be,
To tread through the seas of her love,
Anticipating rogue waves,
This schooner musn’t capsize.

Dancing with her, as if the last two on Earth,
I sway her body, closely against to mine,
Her passion radiating against my desire,
Bound to create a combustion greater than the Big Bang.

And that Big Bang, where our everything meets,
Her breaths, short but sweet,
Her gaze pierces through my existence,
As I force confidence daring to look into her eyes,
While I aim to satisfy her every desire.

If I should be so bold, so foolish,
To take her for granted,
May my soul burn in Hell,
For all of everlasting.

I’m nothing without that woman,
Women, thank God for ‘em,
For there is no greater rendition of Nirvana,
Accessible to mankind.
there isn’t enough sentiment for women anymore, if ever at all, and i want to express some.
Francis Nov 2023
Four years of insanity came and went,
Searching for a place to rest our heads,
Living through a nightmare that we couldn’t wake up from,
Finally achieving our biggest dream,
We’ve found a home.

You have to give credit,
where credit is due.
The little things mean the most,
In such a big world,
A mean world,
And now the world feels like ours,
Because we have a place to lay our hats.
Moving tomorrow. Can’t wait to start anew.
James Rives Oct 2023
love, in essence, is blind,
and knows more than it can convey.
the simple sound of your cough
amongst a crowd of weekend shoppers,
red onion in hand for your next soup.
the scent of lemongrass, patchouli,
home away from home.

love, in essence, is blind,
and can see beyond itself.
it touches the ether and knows
your kind soul, your hurt heart,
the deepness of your hugs,
the tickle in your lungs,
the curl of curses on your lips,
and the warmth in your bright blue eyes.
to the one I couldn’t help but love
Man Jul 2023
You can describe
The awe inducing beauty
Of a sun kissed morn
Or of the towering, starry night sky
And never realize it's value
AE Jul 2023
Colour blooms
Onto a canvas of black-and-white impressions
Left behind are brush strokes from the blues and greys
Overlayed are the yellows and pinks
Flowers drift left and right
A sunset glows until dark
Transforming into midnight bokeh
With every blink, something new
A painter paints
A thousand places all here at once
A thousand dreams
A thousand wonders
All here, in the colour of you
Isa Jun 2023
the desire to unwrap your ego, imagination, and ingenuity
drives me to heights I have not seen.
as I can't look at the ground when I search for you, but always looking up high above me.
you are a flower on a hill.
a tall sunflower, always reaching to the sun and its stars.
sunflowers don't look down away from its sun,
for looking down destroys their shine.
it is why you do not see me, looking up at you while you look to the sky
don't look down, you'll wither
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