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We found Love, resident in between the envelopes of our lips; never spoken but melted down our souls in contact.
We found love unspoken, right in the tombs under our belly-buttons; and there we lived, loved until love grew grey hairs so soon and travelled six feet underground.
We found ****; not love!
When we dance,
We are one.
Our energy flows through our feet and spreads across the floor.
Our arms and hands hold our connection.
Our love travels that path back and forth.
And we can feel how much we mean to each other.
How much this time together means.
Because we never get enough.

When we dance,
My hair reaches for you when you spin me
Because it longs to tangle itself in you.
Because usually when it surrounds you,
It means I am at peace.
You’re usually not at peace
Because you’re being wrapped in hair.
But I am at peace when I am that close to you,
Tangled in your body,
Wrapped up in your breath,
Never wanting to move from that position...
Except to detangle you from my hair.

When we dance,
I can feel us communicate.
I know what you want me to do,
How you want me to move,
And I try my best to execute it.
I always try my best for you.
Because you deserve the best.

When we dance,
Time stands still.
No matter the tempo
Or the length of the song.
I never want it to end.
Our dance is my favorite dance.
I could dance with you into eternity.
Maybe that would be enough time.
But somehow I doubt it.
Second attempt at a love poem
Haylin 3d
My father once told me,
To grow out my hair,
Then I'd be pretty like my mother,
And he would actually care.

He would blackmail me,
Put me down for my looks,
Said I had no friends,
But good that I read books.

He said these hurtful things,
Such a while ago,
But I remember them today,
The words never really go.

They stick with me,
Like I stuck with my long hair,
But I cut it, and tomorrow,
I hope he won't care.

It's true, I'm scared,
For what my father might say,
But at least, I know,
I'm safe for another day.
molly's hair, **** hair.
show's the bi-polar,
but not the bear.
molly's hair, **** hair.
bi-polar hair don't care.
A touch of gold caresses your hair
Yesterday's youthful exuberance
I cut a few locks from the world
And linger in your presence, still
Wishing only that you'd stay awhile
To bask in our mutual reverence
The Blonding Hair of Trees
My eyes were beaming out,
onto the gloomy streets.
Fog was lurking in.
It adhered to my skin.
As the dew latched on,
after only seconds,
I slowly became damp.
Contributing to my silky skin.
Dusting my cheeks,
generating rosiness on my surface.
Glazing over my hair,
gluing each strand to another.
Coating my hands,
nipping at my fingertips
The haze in the back of my head,
It kept getting heavier.
Digging my fingernails into my head.
Tugging on each strand,
between my scalp and jagged fingernail.
Clawing as my nails trailed down my skull.
Blood dripping,
Creating tidal waves.
Fog was sprouting in my essence
The fog began to maneuver on me.
Blanketing over my body,
weighing down my soul,
overloading my carcass.
Anya Oct 9
My policy
is typically
in a pony tail
out of my eyes
But sometimes...
it gets monotonous
and tied
to my more
introverted me
academic me

I've tried braids
brings me back to elementary
Several people called me
I embody a twelve year old

I tried a headband
not bad
the fluffy strands
to get in the water fountain
when I'm drinking

Hair out?
The first one I tried
but messy
in my eyes
The me,
that will roll down a grassy hill
just cause

So, which one is it
or something...more?
Is it
just hair?
Is it
linked to my identity?
I dunno
But maybe I'll
What is it to you?
Zandrew Oct 6
Your lips burn like the sun
You hold stars in your finger tips
The world is in your palm
You walk on asteroids guided by the constellations that are braided into your being
The planets ring out for you
The earth keeps spinning your tune
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