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Alyssa Hatch Nov 2015
I am shelter and warmth in just a few stitches.
Day by day I await your return, so that after the
long days I can hold and lull you to sleep.
There is comfort in my consistence,
never will you return to find that I have gone.
Under these covers you will find that
despite these thin layers,
you feel most safe.

Protection from the unknown, warmth from the cold,
people may leave you, but I will stay until we’re old.
Leave your worries behind, for even just a day
to escape beneath a sea of comfort,
solitude, and peace.
xx Oct 2015
The heart --
        Can never be open
        Unless somebody
        Breaks it.
        
The love --
        Can never be true
        Unless somebody
        Makes it.

The seasons --
        Can never change
        Unless somebody
        Feels it.

These blankets --
        Can never be warm
        Unless they are
        Somebody's arms.

These words --
        Can never be relevant
        Unless they are
        For you.
Bundled into my blankets
seated yet floating
in unbounded bliss
My stomach says:
"Feed Me!"
and I do.
©Elisa Maria Argiro
Nicole Normile Aug 2011
lost under blankets of warmth
into his arms she's at home
the only one that's ever been real
it's the rawest love she'd ever feel
pure
true
the epitome of anything and everything ever dreamed
it's love
it's love you see
but you don't
you think she's just naive and falling
though she is falling
she's not drowning
no she's falling for more than she'd ever dreamed
in his arms is everything to see

he holds her
wraps her up
and he holds her
warm and snug
she's now dived into something she'd feared so much
something that gives the biggest rush
a wave of emotion
of feeling
of heat
a wave of love
sweeps you off your feet
and into the air
and her hair
long and flowing
as she swims in the air
of love and hoping
just hoping it will last
forever
never let it pass
forever

she needs
him to breathe
he's her antidote
her cure for the cold
and her only true home
you see
do you see
this hopeless feeling
of need
letting everything go
just being in his arms
forever warmed by his touch
so strongly in love
she loves him so much
ji Jul 2015
I like whites - clean and crisp. White shirts and white sheets. White mugs and warm milk and white winter rains. But if you were coffee, I'd spill you over every white and love every stain.

I like organized - neat and nice. Made bed and matching blankets. Tidy shelves and closet. But if in my room you're the clutter, I don't think I'd ever fix it.

I like stories and poems, novels that get me hooked. I like plots with twisted endings, and my heart being took. But if you were a word in a chapter, I'd rather read you forever - over and over - than finish the book.
Your love is like the rain
After i had enjoyed the best of you
Next thing i know is
i am on my bed wrapped in blankets
cause i am sick but still happy
Tom McCone Jul 2015
finally, i saw space in your eyes,
believin' something unnerving;
sent to lie, cold,
at vague degrees of separation.

i smile back at you,
or, at least, the shadow now
gone, along with your light:
meaning& memory
seep in monochome, sterile.
what, once, was the irreparable
i, sans toi?
the glisten of distant houses on the hill?
the ebb& swell, of the wash of our scenes?

sent spinning static tones:
keep slippin' down. keep changing.
keep the sun & stars.
keep heart.
{some things spill out}
Havran Jul 2015
Sweetie.
let's cover ourselves in blankets
and good stories
so
we
can
enjoy
it.
Rain is good for writers and the ones they love. :)
Marisa Hope Apr 2015
Take me somewhere new, I want to explore with you. Let’s go climb a mountain, let’s go jump off cliffs into waterfalls. Take my hand and lead the way, Mr. Adventurer. Let’s sit on a rooftop and make music. You with your guitar and me with my voice. Let’s stay up there so long we watch the sun set and the moon rise. Let’s stargaze, I’ll watch the way they twinkle in your eyes. Take me in your arms, wrapped together in a blanket on June 24th watching the night sky. We can fall asleep together to the sounds of the nearby ocean and wake up at sunrise to the bright clear skies. Hear the birds chirp and see them fly in their V-formation. Let’s just stay here all day, bundled up in each other. Let the hours pass by and eventually we’ll go get some food only to bring it back to the rooftop and watch the townspeople walk to the city and bike to the shore. Let’s go for a run. A run down the beach, stop to feed the pelicans, the one we named Steve. Who are we kidding, we don't know which one is Steve. But after these nights, you do know me. And I surely know you, Mr. Adventurer.
First time writing prose, I hope you guys like it.
Hannah Mary Feb 2015
arms clasped around your knees
while your eyes overflow with dysphoria
and spilling those things called tears.

you begin to wonder when the walls started to tower over you
while kept under those warm things called blankets,
the only things that kept you warm
while your heart was frozen in time that had elapsed

these towering walls
seem to be looking down upon me
and they tell me I am enervated
as I am limp under those blankets,
the only things that are competent to providing me warmth,
as my heart cannot.
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