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Mykarocknrollin Feb 2020
IMY
admit it or not
it shows in your actions and eyes
you miss me
but i'm not sure if its really me
is this just physical
are we just ******* mental
believing we can surpass
this circumstance
of being with each other
even if we are not together
why do you remember
every detail
you don't fail
i'm just continuing to be frail
to seek
to be meek
hope i'll not get sick
i'm becoming weak
admit it
or nothing
is gonna change
with this
feeling

xo
Sythin Voxe Jan 2020
I love you so much

more than the Sun loves the Moon,

or the Day loves the Noon.

I want to hug you more than

Waves hug the Shore,

or a Frame hugs a Door,

and kiss you more than the

Horizon does the Sky

or more than Lashes bat an Eye.

I don't think I could love you more,

but now, I've said that before,

and I'll say it over and over

until the day I die.
I love you more than poetry. And that says something.
the star of the star of the morning
is restful and tranquil and free

the star of the star of the evening
blossoms dark as a shadowy tree,


the waves drive out far in their rivers
as blue as a star in the sky,

and the darkness relents for her shivers
must finally die.


waves turning and burning and dancing
clouds wandering e'er ever on

and the darkness that finds the new morning,
as cold as stark night's bitter song,


oh, brother who wept for my sisters
no tears as alive as their breath

swept out where the wild sea blisters
and pain knows of death.


wild whispers, wild birds and the fury
of waves that sing out to the clouds

the death then of life that we bury
laid out in the whitest of shrouds


the sea, oh, the sea, how she sings me
a song of a dance never sung

and her rhythms soon calm and placate me
her bell solemn rung.


and sweet love is the journey i strive for
as blue as a mysterious sea

and the love is a fruit full of succour,
and the moment will live e'er free,


you stand tragic as a painting so mournful
alone as a poet who rests,

and the lull of the storms here at night fall
the sea's treasure chests.


the day wraps the night in her roses
and night wraps the day in her sight

and midnight's soft moonlight supposes
that day is a journey e'er bright,


and love was a love still forever
and love had no rose in her bower

for the floor of the sea like a feather
the most delicate flower.
Kivanc Jan 2020
Loving your mouth
Makes me thirsty for blood
In my cold-cold veins
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