The Willow cried
her trickling sobs
a shadowy space
Alone, there a girl
her smiling mouth
and frowning eyes
a tentative nod
held by mounds of grass
and a propensity
She could tumble dry
or get caught up
in a waterfall of
She never could decide.
If it be your feet that walk,
I feel your steps towards my heart.
My love for you isn’t one size fits all.
These big hearts we carry.
My love, your love, our love,
Is well fitting.
It’s like we’re of the same size,
We’re wearing the same gown of passion.
You’re my flame,
Burning all the woodlands of sorrow.
If it be your voice that sounds,
I hear the echoes of your love.
If Love were an Egg,
My heart would be the nest.
it was a mere figment
clouds in the water
drops in the sky
her wonders went up high
on a warm summer night in July
a young girl settled down in the valley of roses
lips curved up in a smile
while the grass tickled her fingers
her eyes wandered up to the sky
at the stars who were beaming
the moon felt bright
she was in love with the sight
.es que no importa cuanto la beses a ella,
seguirás pensando en mi.
.es que mientras más intentes olvidarme,
más me recordarás.
.es que no me se me disuelve con alcohol,
ni se borran mis trazos de la piel.
.es que por mi culpa mueras sin saber,
que es son los escalofríos a primer contacto.
.es que tal vez no vuelvas a experimentar,
los pelos de *****.
.es que te malcrié con tantas caricias,
que ahora no sabes qué hacer.
.es que aunque mis manos son pequeñas,
te hacían reaccionar.
.es que no habías conocido un amor tan delicado,
y no encontrarás otro corazón tan tierno.
.es que yo te quise,
cuando el problema lo tenías tú
el problema conmigo,
es que yo soy la solución.
en español, por favor.
Of all the flowers, I relate most to the rose
Because everyone who touches her bleeds.
I always thought that it was nature’s way of evening things out
Even the most beautiful creations must have their flaws
And so roses have their thorns,
They hurt everything they touch,
And that is life.
I realize now that the thorns are there to protect the rose
Because leaving something so delicate without defenses
Must be a sin.
And just like a rose, I am soft,
And my thorns wouldn’t hurt everyone around me
If they didn’t handle me so carelessly.
If they were gentle, and kind, and not constantly trying
To take a cutting for their own,
I would not have to defend myself.
It is not my fault that people cut themselves on my broken pieces:
It is their fault for being careless.
um this is kinda **** but i had a profound realization about myself while writing this so? who cares?
his fingers traced every angle of her body
like a mathmatician conjecturing a new formula
slowly yet profoundly