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Hussein Dekmak Nov 2020
He couldn’t help but love her more for her soft heart!

Hussein Dekmak
Edited 2
Polaris Miedema Nov 2020
Take my hand and we’ll jump through the pastel chalk powder.
We can be a different creature.
Both of us can go and feel at home.
Not here.

This can be an ode to my friends and my closest family.
Because you are always so dear and understanding, especially now that we're here.
Finally.
Look now all around, it feels full of options but it still makes you nauseous, yes I know.

Take my hand and let me show you why I have to go through the pastel powder.
Let me be a different creature, I feel sick when I stick around.
Both of us can feel at home now when we jump right through the ground.
A chalk pavement painting.

Let's go right into the pavement painting.
Let me take you.
Pastel, not too bright but soft and light.
Comfortable.

This painting is an ode to my dear friends and closest family.
Because you're always so dear and some things you understand so well.
Come on let me take care of those wounds and soreness with a chalk powder.
A soft chalky powder smell.


And soft colours for strange creatures.
We can be.
A different kind of creature when we go through the chalk powder on the pavement.
Take my hand, we can be, we can be...

Soft.
Comfortable.
Happy.
Smooth.
Peaceful.
Loving.
06-11-20
fray narte Nov 2020
to this, i resign
and i will lie motionless,
as november nights lovingly peel my skin.

strip me down,
i am sick of feeling callouses.
i am sick of my sheets
licking all these wounds clean.
i am sick of waiting for tenderness
to grow from my open sores
so strip me down —
this is as loving as it can get.
to this, i resign —
to the mercy of lonely, november nights.

so hold me down,
a pillow on my face —
petunias in my throat:

this is as soft as i can be.

peel me open. peel me raw,
and beneath it all, perhaps, i'll stumble
on something that finally
looks like home.
Nidhi Jaiswal Oct 2020
Being soft heart is not my weakness
But i found that,
Your hard heart makes you emotionless.
Today you are far away for me,
By your hard heart.
I know you may be restless,
Without you me too soulless,
By my soft heart.
I want to forgot you nd move forward
But your beautiful memories pushes me backward
what will i do with a soft heart
That makes me soulless without you.
And;
What will you do with your hard heart
That makes you restless without me.

"BEING SOFT HEART
IN A CRUEL WORLD IS
COURAGE
NOT WEAKNESS."
This poetry is based on my experience about love ,nd also based on Imagination.
Thanks for reading.💓
Astrea Oct 2020
Sweetness is —
the sugar cube that glitters
when sun ray kisses the crystalline surface
like a thousand sparkling dots;

It is the strawberries I savor
when you sat across me
smiling softly
and gave me the last one from your basket.

It is the bubbly feeling
when I gazed at you,
playing with our children —
sparks in your eyes,
a laugh leaping out of your throat.

It is the warm sensation
flooding my chest, and
filling every corner of my being,
whenever you tucked me into your arms,
and kissed away my tears,
telling me I am
the best thing that has ever happened to you.
something I wrote a long time ago, a rare, fluffy love poem I guess
Unpolished Ink Oct 2020
Thoughts are our feathers
They lift imagination
Then they blow away
Ila Apr 2020
You may think that I’m going to be talking about the word and feeling “love”. I may or may not be. It really depends on you, the reader, to determine what this “love” is.

Love ******* hurts. Love is time consuming. Love is demanding. Love will require you to swim the depths of the ocean and cross the largest of deserts. Love will not make it easy. Love is the thing you fear the most. Be it the monster under your bed with the red beady eyes and the horribly yellow teeth, or the 1,000 foot drop from the sky, plummeting downwards as you feel your stomach drop. Love will leave you bleeding dry from the things you do just for love. Love will not even realize that you are doing those things for love.

But love will repay you. In ways you won’t understand. Love will be for you during the worst times. Love will listen to you and encourage you to be your best self. Love does not even realize that love is doing these things for you, love is just doing them.

Love will not realize the effect on you.

For me, it has always been me crossing the deserts, swimming the oceans, bleeding dry just to please love. When will it be love’s turn? Maybe today, tomorrow, or a time that I’m no longer here.

I think love has been repaying me every since I started loving love. Maybe love has a different way of expressing love. Maybe the love that love gives is sweet, pure, and just. Maybe I just need to open my eyes to see that love will not cross a desert for me because love is standing right there beside me. Love will not bleed me dry, for love is the one rushing though my veins. Love is not the monster, love is the light. Love is not the fear of the fall, love is the trust fall, knowing you’ll fall right back into love. Love does not realize what I do for love because love is too busy loving me.

And now, I am grateful enough to see it.
Clarissa Oct 2020
take care of me,
water the daisies that grow inside of me.

e m b r a c e
the skin that makes me.

a c c e p t
the weeds that grow by.

n o u r i s h
the love that flows through me.

be gentle with me..
learn to love me.
Max Oct 2020
The moon holds my very first steps
Gently embracing the tracks I leave on earth
She puts all my drawings on the fridge
She is my brightest star
With her, I do not hide anything
And I always finish my sentences

I have always been an emotional being
My emotions leave me breathless so I use other mediums
Thus ever since I was a child I traced poems in the sand
Made memories filled with love
And while words kept me company, sandcastles gave me a home

So
With sand and my toes, I made my very own chapter
With shovels and buckets, I made a book
Made ink out of water
When I was angry, I traced fire ants blazing my feet
When I was lonely, I traced the 52-hertz whale swimming into the earth
When I was sad, I traced the mountains too high for me to climb
And when I was happy, I traced songbirds sweetly singing a tune at dawn

All of this for me to wash them away with the tides
Emotions aren't something I like to talk about
Nor do I like to draw them
I feel vulnerable, it makes my skin ache
When I actually say what I mean it hurts
The possibility of rejection is painful
Like winter does to cracks
Like fire does to skin
Like violent wind does to paper
It is everything but enjoyable

I am as open as a sonnet
I do not lie
My metaphors and imagery are my truth
My rhyming pattern is consistent
My theme is not a red herring
I do not lie
Please trust me on this
But just like a sonnet, the twist happens at the end
And I always cut myself off
This is 2/3 of my school assigment
Theme: Nature
Place where I wrote this: 3 am thinking about beiing vulnerable
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