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Payton 2d
You came up behind me and wrapped me in your arms and covered my eyes with your hands.

"Guess who," you whispered in my ear, and

I laughed to think that you believed I would not know that it was you by the feeling of your heart beating against my spine.
This poem was written in 2016.
Flowing under winter
Is the warmth of a fading love
That once was on the surface
But now struggles to be shone

Cold hearts once bled red
Broken, they needed repair
Grey was too stiff for the aching heart
So blue was the color of the broken part

But Jotunheim and its giants can be melt
By the prowess of Asgard and its heroes
As the icy, depressive cover has formed
After the heart had been healed

So, many times passion becomes a fuel
To extinguish the fear of the person who never knows
And this gas perpetually ignites
And the water that once thawed the rime
Won’t remain covered, buried under ice

That is why love always resurfaces
With the heat of hope and will
Querying if the person the heart beats for
Doesn’t has her beating in sync, still

But like a snowflake, love falls in pieces
To find a place to regrow, as fear overpowers the fuel
Where memory and reluctance troubles the loving soul
While life seems dull to his aching state, as time never ceases

My appreciation for her burns wild
Maybe its youth that feeds the flames
Or the personality bonded to her beautiful name
But, which is enough to love her, the air that I inhale
Will soon be few as I drown in the water, doubting if “we” will ever be true
As the last poem of the third chapter, it establishes the war between love and hopelessness the speaker is caught between after his misadventures with Rose, Violet, and Obsidian Eye. Will his heart freeze solid? Or rather, can his heart become icy cold?
Chris Jan 2020
Honey Covered Lies
Sweeter than the truth
Poison in my system
Botox in my veins.

Honey Covered Lips
The sweeter they taste
The stronger the dose.
The truth can hurt but it's necessary.
Oh no jobs
The difficult is surrounded me
I suppose I will fail

Down down at the deep of the well
The helper will not save me
His rope was so old and jagged
His bucket was there
But it was so damaged

The land which I was on
Will be fallen over my will

My will is vanished
As the light of candle
Try to resist the wind
The dark united with the wind
To hide all things at mind
And the light could hide
So the difficult succeeded
The wall of failure covered
High ,there is no light
the save of jobs needs only minds and great vexperts
sad
Sad
They made sad
To everyone who may stand
With amazement

The words were evaporated
Their clouds covered the land
By their rains which were downed

To destroy every stand
What problem not to be sad
Or not to distribute it over any sand

God creates angels
Devils choose their followers
Who loves ruins gaining at all creatures
the sad is bad ,but it gains by hands of others gets more pain and suffer
EmperorMoth Feb 2019
Bundled flakes of frozen tears
Came from the sky to greet the ground
The frost races the wind as sound
Silences in the world snow-bound
A whisper from a will-o-wisp
Guiding the cold warmer places
Snuffing the fast pacing of time
The snow is not to be hasted
sky Nov 2018
The door remains locked
when we mustn't leave.
The windows covered
and boarded.
The wood underneath me
doesn't creak
when we mustn't leave
as if he too fears what waits on the other side.
We mustn't leave when it's dark out
and soon we won't see the light
so I'll stay away from the door
and pinch my mouth tight.

When we mustn't leave,
we mustn't make a sound.
So I will remain silent,
and still.
Anya Oct 2018
Being frank here,
I think a lot

And I think about
my thinking

And I have a unique way of thinking
as do most people

But I combine my thoughts
with analogies
I conceive through
my creativity
And weave them
into words

Which I have learned to love
through my obsessive reading
in my elementary
school
days
...
That's it
I haven't read
enough official
published
poetry

I don't really
edit my
poetry
much

I don't overthink
it
too much
either

Just my thoughts,
on a lonely page
...
...
...
I've wondered time
and time again,
is this even
poetry?

My thoughts
carved with
a
choppy
cleaver

Rough on the edges
with spots of
honesty

As well as
parts,
as smooth and cold
as marble
The honesty hidden
beneath
eloquence
analogies
other distractions
evasions
...
when the truth
is too much

But it's still me on the page
...
...
But what I can't figure out
is,
do I do it
for social approval?
To be heard?
To spill out my emotions?
To make something beautiful?
...
Just cause?

A wintry night
the wind swirls around
...
...
...
blowing my questions
away with a chill...
This was inspired by the poem on this site "Poetry Reeled me In".
Amanda Kay Burke Aug 2018
I am like the moon
Covered in many craters
Nocturnal beauty
It doesn't really feel right calling myself beautiful but I do feel beautiful sometimes. Not compared to the moon though.
Payton Jun 2018
You’ve grown on me
like moss and ivy,
slowly at first but
before you know it, I’m
covered in you, and I
choose not to remember
what it was like to be naked.
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