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sayali Jun 2018
I belong to
The gusty
Winds, that
Whisper
Sweet nothings
To me,
                  I belong to
                  The red of
                  My roses
                  And the
                  Captivating
                  Aroma they
                  Emanate,
I belong to
The soil, and
The way it
Nurtures and
Even accepts
The dead,
                    I belong to
                    The rain, which
                    Quenches the
                    Thirst of the
                     Parched soil,
I belong to
Him, who
Loves my
Soul, despite
Of the scars
Which sullied
It, and can kiss
Those scars
Back to whole.

// Belong

-Sayali Parkar
Shannon Jun 2018
The place between your arms is where I belong
Falling asleep to some stupid cliched love song
We laugh, grin, then share a small kiss
A small free kiss in the dark.

The place between your arms is where I belong
I say I don't feel pretty and you strive to prove me wrong
Point out the pieces of me you say are perfect
And baby for you that's all of me.

The place between your arms is where I belong
That for thy right myself will bear all wrong.
We make love and poetry all in the same ways
For love with us is everything to me.

There are no words no expression clear
To express my love for you, my dear
So hold true the pieces of my heart
And so will I, my dear sweetheart.
Words from
A Small Free Kiss in the Dark (Glenda Millard) and Shakespeare's Sonnet LXXXVIII have been used and are not mine.
Danilo Florenzio Jun 2018
Oh, i couldn't
be what you want me to be
No, i wouldn't,
if it is not good for me
Oh, my sugar,
there's nothing wrong with you, you see?
I only cannot stay here taking what you're giving me

I assure you,
i will stay on my own side
It's my duty,
'cause i have nothing to hide
I'm peculiar,
so i don't have the need to crawl
Or to behave like i don't have my pride

But if you'd like to put all things aside
Then i could see, how these things would be
But for now, we better stay right where we are
'Cause you don't belong to me, and you don't own me by far

Oh, it's true that
you may never understand
So, then, surely,
we can't end up as good friends
But, believe me,
it can end by another way
So hurry up or it might be too late

And if you'd want to put all things aside
I'll need more time to think if it'll be right
And if i like to pass by all those things
again and see if my ego will lean
I'm hearing someone calling me
Haruharu Jun 2018
I'm sitting on his shoulders, looking out at the rest of the dancing crowd.

The music puts a spell on the evening.

I breathe happiness, pure joy.

Have I ever felt this free?

My hand fits perfectly in his.

We dance our way through the crowd of happy people.

Such a magical night.

We sparkle, just like the fireworks.

The night belongs to us.

My tall stranger and I.

He tastes like tobacco and beer, just like me.

Tonight we belong together, I feel proud to have him by my side.

I'm sure I will see him again soon,
my tall stranger
Shadow Dragon May 2018
I break myself
to be able to
feed you pieces
of me
that doesn't belong
to you
sankavi Apr 2018
i look at my skateboard
down at the ground
i close my eyes
and roll down the hill
getting faster and faster
until i hit flat ground
i open my eyes

when i roll down the hill
i feel free
the breeze hitting my face
my hair blows in the wind
the sun on my skin
its all too good

i feel at home
like a belong
thank you to my
skateboard
Lon Witter Apr 2018
You made me think, Is that moment real
You made me smile, It is the real deal
You made me feel, Is it what being human mean
You made me love,  It is the strangest  magic ever seen
You made me dream, Is that makes me try hard to live
You made me live, It's why I don't want to leave  
You made me stay,  Is it really okay
You made me realize, It is the only way.
alexa Apr 2018
you never know what you need
when it’s standing right in front of you,
blurred lines of the person you’re
supposed to love
too close up to realize until
it’s much too late.
Blanche Apr 2018
My brown eyes belong
to my mother
as well as my hair
and my lips
and my smile.

My long legs belong
to my father
as well as my toes
and my eyebrows
and my laugh.

And yet my tongue
belongs to both my parents
and to me
and to no one at all.
It floats along the Seine
until it reaches the ocean
and lands in a puddle of maple syrup.
It cheers at baseball games
but then follows the home run
out into a cricket game.
It trembles along streets lined
with red lanterns, only to
climb the towers of the Sagrada Familia.

My tongue twists and turns
travels far and wide
and yet, it does not have a home
for my accent is wrong
and my English is broken.
I have tried for so many years
to find a place for my tongue to call home
without feeling half-English
or half-worthy, or torn.

For how can something which has never been built
be broken?
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