Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Maria 1d
I miss you just so much right now!
I want to hug you more and more!
And I’ll remember for a long time
That dark and gentle night ardour.

The sky was like a raven plumage,
A canvas for all stars in whole.
You hugged my shoulders, stroked my hair.
We were engaged to love at all.

And on the roof, as at the sky door,
We peered into the heart of stars.
We met a cart of boltless lightning.
It slipped the voile of love on us.

There was no fear, there was no doubt.
Only the sky and me and you.
It was my unforgettable moment!
You’re here, darling! I love you!
This poem is about beautiful and sincere love.
Thank you for reading it! 💖
irinia Aug 2023
time creeps between waves and broken seashells
the trance of a hunter, the soul of a shipwreck, the indifference of naked bodies in the sun possess my heart
the force of the sea rises inside the eyelids
everywhere you look a cinematic aloneness
the wisdom of sand in a fish' dream
now and then two embraced shadows,
the ardour of water consuming the beach
Naravi Jun 2019
Him
He showed up out of nowhere
And everybody fell in love
He felt like a long warm hug
The one you give while parting ways
No one could stop themselves from touching him
Even a slight passing brush of a hand
The smallest of touches
Not a girl nor a boy could stop themselves from smiling at his sight
Every breath he took made them giggle
And all sat down on one bedside
Laying one against another
Living in this presence
Getting along yet feeling a sting of jealousy whenever one got more attention
The greediest impulsively grabbing onto his skin
It was like a feeling of love and lust they never felt
And as it came to an end they felt the purest of joy
Forgotten all about the feelings the second he parted his ways
Like a long lost memory of first love
Lyn-Purcell Sep 2017
Two becoming one by golden rings,
The man in a suit, and the wife demure
in white.
During the art of making love,
the ardour of man is firewater,
and sweet liquor.
The woman's wistful gaze is aflame
with a wish of vestal silk.
The firewater may chill, and the sweetness
of liquor fade, but the wistful woman's wish
is as lasting as time.
A poem from my journal based on a picture of a married couple that I saw in a magazine.
I am a mortal
And there is no shame in that
I am not perfect
And I feel no shame in that
For my love is without stain

— The End —