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The woman of my rib
The one that makes me complete
The woman of my dream
My semi; my eve
She’s sleek and black
Fair or partly dark
Tall and slim
Doesn’t need a hill
To bring out the curves of her hips

The woman of my rib
The one that makes me whole
With the heart that gives me home
She ‘d filled my every hole
With the smile that gives me hope
She’s thick and white
Short and fat
Doesn’t need a cream
To bring out the beauty of her skin

The woman of my rib
Is intelligent and wise
Beautiful and kind
Always follows her heart
Doesn’t need a philosophical quote
Before she knows which way to go

The woman of my rib
Is brilliantly tricky
Less like that of Eve
Which led Adam to his doom
She’s a tigress in bedroom
Blessed with ah heavenly womb
She doesn’t need a tattoo
To show that she’s a tycoon

The woman of my rib
Is coy and shy
Lousy and wild
Always putting on a smile
Sometimes wrong; sometimes right
Good and bad
All at the same time

The woman of my rib
Is gentle and calm
But she’s the opposite when I’m around
Always lending a supporting hand
Knows her way around her man

The woman of my rib
Has the most beautiful soul
She always has everything under control
She’s the best in every aspect
Doesn’t try too hard to be perfect
Even perfect wished she was her

Woman of my rib
She’s distinctively pretty
Jealoused by the goddess of beauty
Coz her style ain’t tutee
Not too choosy
That is the kind of woman that suits me
Beneath the bracing maple tree
Awaits a beau, pursued heart's key

Cold sweaty hands, timid was he
As if he's dosed with ecstasy

To woo this beautiful princess,
Hath played a fiddle effortless

Heart beats loud beneath pastel dress
Mind's been puzzled, soon she'll confess

She don't regret, she won't forget
For that so moment felt kismet

Will they be lovers? Make a guess,
It all depends if she said yes
Let us reminisce and appreciate the efforts of an unfeigned gentleman to win the heart of his fairlady through traditional courtship.

With all my heart I give you "The Suitor", enjoy!
My heart is now

cold as ice;

I don't want to

hear from you—

or your lies.

We barely even know

each other;

you annoying little punk—

do you want me

to call my father?

Stop pestering me,

I'm not ready

to feel that way.

Swoon me

and I will

mess your day.
I met this guy during a tutoring session when I was still in high school. We both came from different schools so basically he's not a schoolmate of mine.  There's this place for students who can get tutors in different subjects so I was there, studying Algebra and he was studying Mandarin Chinese. We're not really close and I only see him as an "acquaintance". He started to put on this "persona" and tried to act cool in front of me. Like a braggart. And then suddenly he just messaged me asking to be his girlfriend. I told him "no" because I wasn't ready to be in a relationship and also I didn't see him in a romantic way. But he keeps on persisting to the point it really irritated me. I then realized that he just wanted to use me and to boast to his friends in school that he finally has a girlfriend. I told him that he was ludicrous and also to find someone else to be his girlfriend. I never talked to him again.
Amanda Nov 2018
I love you so ******* much
I'm sorry it does not always show
Believe me when I tell you your touch
Means more than you will ever know
A love text
TD Jul 2018
Following a whetted sigh
leisurely indolent green beams.
Sloth-lidded in sleep so sweetly hummed
as life drenched the waxen leaves.
He awakens from lethargy.
A banquet waits at his nodding feet
hidden beneath widespread arms.

Virescent shivers part
sculpting clouds of broken images.
Florid fauna soaks in her sunny grin.
Awash with luscious shadows
her freckled light becomes a stroking pen.
She writes her story on the mind
of sprites and staring wooden eyes.

Darker viridescent fingers beckon
nestled in the crooks of rooted limbs
coaxing a sullen fawn to rest
below all lofty promises.
Dampened lips faded, curve gently
surrounding the slumbering form
a secret gift for her pleasure.
The texture of a full-bodied swill
inviting a hooded gaze.

The sun knows her covert suitor..
She'll be the first to tell you--
he is--some kind of green.
Think of the layers of the forest, one easily accessible--the other a hidden gem. Who does she long for the most? The one embracing her openly or the one waiting in silent adoration? You choose. The forest floor layer is rarely reached by sunlight. About 2 percent of sunlight reaches the floor layer. The emergent layer receives the most sunlight.  Rather than being inspired by green leaves singularly, I kind of became involved with the play of greenery in summer as a whole.
Rachel Jul 2018
i received a bouquet on sunday.
with scarlet carnations, ruby-coloured roses,
calla lilies, a single red tulip
a few clovers scattered haphazardly along the sides
and a velvet ribbon tied to the right
a postcard was attached

i sent back an anemic yellow carnation.
K Balachandran Jun 2018
pale lady, full moon,
spurns a million suitors' winks;
sits alone, brooding!
Rebel Heart Nov 2017
Lost child of a lost childhood
Built up by broken frames
Bloodied knuckles and his bully's bruises
Turned his whole life into a mere game

He turns up the flirty attitude
To mask the anger within
His mom ran off with another suitor
While he's left cleaning after her sins

But tonight he wears her sins as a tie
To match the heavy demons weighing him down
He makes his way across the floor
Picking up a drink to change his frown

All the giggly desperates crowd him instantly
He proceeds to exchanges a smirk or two
Yet across the room he sees a flash of grey
And finds his next prey to woo
An excerpt of the poetry collection by RH called "The Mysterious Gown of Grey"... it tells a beautifully captivating tale I can't help but imagine being set during the Victorian era in London. This excerpt was bits and pieces of the second poem of the collection titled 'The First Masked Suitor" and follows the story of Derek, my second favorite 'character' in the whole collection...I hope she plans to publish the full poem in the future for it'd be a shame to keep the wonderful words and epic story locked in a word document forever. I recently realized I didn't read the last couple poems and so I've been rereading the collection ever since. It's crazy to think how young RH was when she wrote this collection and yet adult me still enjoys it... Until then happy writing! ~BM
Steele Nov 2014
She doesn't own a mirror.

Confirmation of her beauty comes from those around her at all times.
Fawning fools adore,
jealous sisters abhor,
but all notice the shine of her hair, the tilt of her lips.

She does not dance.

Her steps lead, and dancers follow with no reasons nor rhymes. They cry:
"Lead me not into temptation",
but in her ministrations,
they ache and beg for her glance, their hearts in her grips.

She does not care for suitors.

Her heart was long ago dulled by the fencing blades of admirers. And yet I
if honest, must admit
that it is a careless abandon, devoid of wit
that begs me join her jousters in mock combat for the privilege of her kiss.

What a porcelain fool, she, to inspire such a heartfelt, bloodtaxed roust.
What sorrier the fool, me, to join in such a sure dealt, unasked joust.
I find it funny (in my black humor) that so many chase one who only wishes to be left in peace, myself included. Beauty is often a curse.

— The End —