It's hard not to
Completely fall for someone
Whom, without effort
Brings out the absolute
Best in you
The most beautiful thing
About young love
Is the truth
In their hearts
That it will last forever
Even the second one I shall give to you,
Whether to kindle it or to break it,
It depends entirely on you.
My HP Poem #1776
~ the saddest part is that sunsets won't last forever
and we'll forget how the pink skies
kissed our hearts goodnight ~
i haven't posted much anymore on hello poetry because i've been exploring myself and writing poetry in my native language (dutch), feel free to add me on instagram; diejongenvantoen
You may take our words and make them yours.
But our fiery spirit is what makes a true writer soar.
We scribble with our hearts, like so many who’ve come before.
For most it’s therapy for their internal raging wars.
Our words are endless like waves crashing along the shore.
Slowly eating at your conscience receding more and more.
Like the rising and setting of the sun our words will endure.
Therefore armed with our pens it’s you we feel sorry for.
We say it’s broken
But it just hurts
Cause we don’t like
Gettin’ down and
Diggin’ in the dirt
Feel it to heal it
That’s what they say
Well if you ain’t feelin’
You ain’t livin’ anyway
You ain’t livin’ anyway
This is a short song about hearts. It’s in the style of blues. Extra Note .. the feeling or idea of a broken heart, is a sign of a fully functioning, perfectly working heart.
Beauty isn't seen by eyes
It's felt by hearts
Recognized by souls
In the presence of love
Could it be that the rivers of my heart run with good waters?
Could that really, ever be?
The fragile banks erode and
Crumble into sorrow,
But the sun glints off the surface still each morning
And there is solace in the shining.
Could that brightness really be mine,
After everything I should have done
That might have changed the arc of time?
Like words I could have said
That would have left
Certain hearts alive.
I haven’t fought all the right fights
And some beautiful things have died
Right here in my hands,
But I think there is a chance
That these waters still run true;
The mountains stand unmoved,
And the rivers of the heart rush and fall.
They rush and fall down the rocks and
They are still pure.
whenever she sees him,
the corners of her eyes
crinkle into intricate origami.
if anyone looks closely,
they'll see a soft glow
and maybe even folded hearts.
that's her love for him.