Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Cobalt Jan 2018
You remind me of Chai tea.

You're warm, and sweet, and you make me want to curl up with you on a rainy day, tangled in bedsheets and watching the rain pitter patter on the window, in my pajamas and my hair piled up atop my head, listening to soft music that speak of lazy love and croon of kisses.

You make me think of tan sweaters and unrecognizable spices, alluding to all the mystery I don't know and want to know, devouring you like I would a good book on a crisp autumn day. You make me want to take a road trip to a forest where the fog comes meandering in, and I sit in the backseat, talking about life-to me, to you, or my non-metaphorical, quite literal, tea.

You make me want to slow down, and sit in a coffee shop and work on a book, or admire the chipped mug that you came in.

You remind me of Chai tea, and all that we could be.
Sandy* beaches
Boats
Old ruin Castles
Church's
Sea
Sunsets
Sunshine
Friendy people.
Buses
Food
Places to go
Enjoyed the change
Will be doing it more often ..
Katarina May 2017
And there you were
Your eyes of moons
Your skin burning
Paper on the tongue

And there I was
My eyes resined red
Your little play thing
Your mademoiselle

Snap me in half
And who am I to talk?
I’m but poison
And that, that my darling,
Is why you will drink me
And then spit me out
And I will, once again,
Be Nothing.
Druzzayne Rika May 2017
Type all the thoughts
Tenderness Torture
Trips that tries the tendencies
Tempts till the tricky turns
Traces the track to transition
Type these trending thoughts
Turn the trap on
Red Panda Poetry Apr 2017
C old & cool
A iry & abuzz
N atural & noble
A ppetizing & appealing
D angerous & dandy
A muck & AWESOME
We went to Canada so, I thought I would make this fun acrostic to describe what is was like.
Francie Lynch Mar 2017
Ungraded roads have many holes,
Gravel, and running ditches.
Before a rain, they seem more wide than narrow.
Long but terminal.
These roads I'm led to roam,
Not straight, but bending to travel.

Signs warn of deer or bumps,
With a bridge dead ahead.
Chances are, it's a single lane,
And timing dictates crossing.

My spinning wheels clear the ruts,
But soon they fill again,
As if I never passed.
Anna Starr Mar 2017
this is our shiny bubble.
we float around with no care,
its reflective surface
shielding us from the outside world.

you stare at me with rainbow eyes.
full of possibility, full of hope.
no longer do they run away
at the slightest sign of me.

instead they press on;
recklessly moving forward,
20 kilometers per hour on curves.
i keep the budding fear to myself.

we're working so hard to stay afloat.
oh, how i dread
the day
we


*pop
Lorna Feb 2017
I reckon google maps is the soulmate of the nostalgic,
The sentimental,longing for what was,
Searching for yesterday like a starving dog.
Sometimes ,more often than not,
I find myself looking out the window of a younger me.

And who are we,if not passing strangers on a foreign soil?

I believe google maps is the aplication for the past.
We are the effect of the places we roamed.
I find myself in a darkened room,
Yet still,everything that brought me here
Are the houses I slept in,
The roads I took,literally and figurately,
And the trees I rested under.
Next page