#romancepoems
with them tender lips
he stole her loving kiss
with a hand so vile
he took away her smile
he led her through the raveled maze
burning flash, he stole her gaze
left her raveled among ways
blind and alone there she stays
gentle fingertips
a heart for heart to miss
love’s spark for fire’s start
till death do them apart
May 26
May 26, 2026 at 2:44 AM UTC
I took his heart,
caressed it.
His eyes burned,
passionate.
Breath shaky,
absolutely panicked,
Completely at his worst.
I watched him,
and comforted.
Till his soul gained colour,
and I still desired him.
In sickness, and in health.
I wasn't his lawfully wedded.
Hell, I wasn't even his to begin.
His heart was tainted by another,
mine was tainted by him.
She would leave in an instant,
I would stay until he wouldn't.
His soul wasn't mine to take,
nor to damage.
His lips weren't mine to kiss,
and I wasn't the reason,
and would never be why,
his heart skipped a beat.
I put my hand over his,
for a second, I forget.
This wasn't romantic at all,
but just something to occupy the fall.
I find myself entranced,
with the feeling of his hand,
It was comforting, but also
a reminder of what I could never have.
Mar 21
Mar 21, 2026 at 5:14 PM UTC
The speaker and mic and tongue
They think is enough to make music
So when it beats and sounds and sings
They will jump and rock and roll
The speaker and mic and tongue
They think is enough to make music
So when it beebs and Cracks and stops
They will hiss and shout and leave
The speaker and mic and tongue
They think is enough to make music
Their music is down but still we dance
Dance To the unending music of our heart
- [ ] © Kuvar
Nov 22, 2017
Nov 22, 2017 at 7:29 AM UTC
for more than a year,
I have been stuck with the indecision to
call you.
and it's as if I torture myself with the thought
of what I would do
if you were to bump into me at the grocery store
hair grown out past your chin,
bloodshot eyes; you smell like beer and ****
would I have the courage to confront you?
or would I take on the "little girl lost" persona
i oh so often do
and crouch behind the stand of sunflowers,
waiting until you have finished fishing through to find your favorite muffins from the display
and go on your way
i just can't fathom
after all these months of trying to change myself,
i can't change the fact that you are still plaguing my body
the bruises on my lips can still be felt.
your scent fills up the room that you refuse to walk into
and it must be some kind of ******* sickness
that no matter what you could have said to me and make me cry
it won't be enough to scare me away
Stockholm syndrome for the ones who keep themselves imprisoned in another's memory
you have made me sick and perverted
but I love you for it.
Apr 23, 2017
Apr 23, 2017 at 9:36 AM UTC