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Monica Feb 2020
Dig deep he said
But I couldnt
This feeling cant be forced
Grab a shovel he said
My emotions are 6 feet under
To complex to understand
Each dig in the dirt
Is peeling back a layer of my skin
Its hurts
These feelings that are buried inside
But not by choice
My inspiration and I use to breathe in the same air
Since he's been gone
Not dead..he just moved on
It's been difficult to harvest words
To make it make sense
Now standing in front of this grave
With a pile of words fitting my emotional description to the right side
Not now
I'll get back to this later
Monica Apr 2020
He knows I'm ticklish
As he rub his hands up my legs
I giggle
In the back of my mind I know what's about to happen
I'm in a chair and he's on the floor
My pants will slide down along with my *******
His head then will proceed to go in the middle
In between these thick thighs
Come inside
Then I... come on the outside
Solange Apr 2020
INK
Before  
the world was born
what lay
between the skies?
Did the bridge of
Unknown
cross over  
into the great horizon?

When the first  
blot of ink 
was crafted,
what was the first
of its many creations?

Did it know that
from mere blots,
entire worlds have been spawned?

Did it know
with its spiraling, expanding,
pearly-darkness,
with its natural proneness to accidents,  
the art and knowledge  
it would found?

Be careful not to shake,
or deplete it in wasteful splatters
You should know,
with the ink of a pen
you hold
the very universe
and all its entity
between your fingertips

And between your ears,
the capacity to truly create it all.
Entire worlds…
and even more.
An underappreciated glory.
Isabella Apr 2020
Your eyes... I promise, they're the key to my soul. They resemble the sky. A cloudy mist of blue and grey. Twisting and twirling, swallowing my gaze.

Your eyes were my reason to live.

Your eyes were my reason to keep my own eyes from closing forever.

Your eyes willed me to hold on. Until I truly wanted to stay.

Your eyes guided me through my life.

Your eyes were full of beauty, glory, love. They were full of a wonderful sky. One that I got lost in. Forever. And even after those eyes closed for the last time, I was still trapped. Caught in that broken sky.
Isabella Apr 2020
Hundreds of wishes, thousands of clovers.
Time becoming so much slower.
Wasted hope, pointless dreams.
Thousands of useless clovers, drifting down the stream.

Wishing you were here right now,
Thousands of clovers drifting down and down.

Further, further,
Until my thousands of clovers are out of sight.
Because, every night...

I'd take a clover, make a wish.
Drop it in the river, watch it swirl like the fish.
Then I'd let it float far away.
I would drop those clovers, day after day.

But it would never be over.
There were thousands of clovers.
Isabella Apr 2020
If the clock ticks, signalling time going by.
It would pass slower, with a little lie.
Then there would be only one cry.
The one when I'd have to say goodbye.
I just stumbled upon an old book of poems I wrote in 2017...
Michael R Burch Mar 2020
Goddess
by Michael R. Burch

“What will you conceive in me?”—
I asked her. But she
only smiled.

“Naked, I bore your child
when the wolf wind howled,
when the cold moon scowled . . .
naked, and gladly.”

“What will become of me?”—
I asked her, as she
absently stroked my hand.

Centuries later, I understand:
she whispered—“I Am.”

Published by Romantics Quarterly (the first poem in the first issue), Penny Dreadful, Unlikely Stories, Underground Poets, Poetically Speaking, Poetry Life & Times, Little Brown Poetry. Keywords/Tags: Muse, Goddess, Erato, Beloved, poetic, inspiration, lyric, poetry, divinity, Orpheus, Sappho
yahna staton Mar 2020
what is love to a blind eye
what is love to a person consumed or your lies
what is love ? peine de coeur
love is not i love you more
love is not gifts or make up *** when you are wrong
love is not change for a day or maybe a week at a time
love is not for the weak but tend to fall in blind eyes
what is love to a princess awaiting her prince
what is love when the frog is still a frog
even with loves kiss
what is love ? piene de coeur
love is heartache and pain
the willingness to work for the rightful gain
the right to say no you're mine
and not from the visual of a blind eye
love is all that baggage that comes with
you dont judge you accept it
love falls from places least expected
from places that you would most likely reject it
what is love ? peine de coeur
random
Catherine Bailey Mar 2020
When I think of you
I’m reduced to tears
When I look away
Filled with regrets

I rather drown at sea
Than to hear your voice
I want the waves
To drown you out

At night I hug my pillow
Hoping that I can feel you
But instead your ghost hugs me
To remind me how cold it is without you
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