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you are the soothing hum
the grass stains on my jeans
the summer in my hair
the color in my cheeks
you are the the constant wave
beating against my heart
the warm honey on my lips
the paint on my nails
you are the perfect dance
and a moonlit ride
the sticky vanilla cream
you are the flower in my palm
the reason I smile
the chills down my spine
you are more than you'll ever know
you are the love of my life
You hear me from afar,
but my voice does not touch you.
You no longer want to feel ...

So let me speak with your silence ...

You're like the quiet nights ...
where not even a leaf moves .

And your silence, haunts my thoughts.

But let me tell your silence one thing ...
this, is how the dead live, in silence alone.
And you are more alive than anything I know.

Because I, once heard your voice, so sweet in the night...

You hear me from afar ...
But you, do not want to hear my voice.

You reject it as if I were your own pain,
If I am, then I ask your silence forgiveness...
it was never my intention.

I know you feel my words that fall upon you gently,
even the distance cannot tear them away!

So please tell me at least one word ...
it doesn't have to be of love.

So let the leafs move with the wind ...
and break the silence you carry within.
Bring your voice back to life...
**** the silence, that hides inside.
J.Cruz©2009
A.k.a.VelvetRosetta
We
we** are everything but broken
and
we are nothing but beautiful
You fade...
Like a bruise.

Like the ones your mouth left on my neck and shoulders with its lustful pressure.
Your teeth, which brought moments of bright pain/pleasure,
Are now bared in an artificial, animal smile.

Your lips, which parted to ******* skin like it was salvation,
Barely part now to speak to me.
You whispered my name like a prayer.
You screamed it like a curse.
You sighed it in contentment,
And now you won't even speak it in passing.

Your hands, which half-playfully pulled my hair...
Now won't pause to brush it from my face.

All these parts of you,
None more telling than your eyes.
Those new windows, which once let me pry...
Now have blinds drawn tight behind them,
Leaving only a pretty, shiny reflection-
A passing, glancing imitation-
Of the passion they once held
When they beheld
Me.

No color left to them but the muddy colors of
Boredom,
And possibly mistrust.

You fade...
Like a bruise.
Like the one you left on my mind with your brilliant conversation
And beautiful, rusty prose.
Like the many you left on my tongue...
Which now can speak nothing but trite and meaningless words,
Which now can barely remember the shapes
Of all the shimmering, liquid phrases it spoke to you
That seemed so important at the time.

You fade...
Like a bruise.
Once lover and friend,
Now barely one
And never the other again.
 May 2017 Weedy pops
janelle
you are paper,
let yourself be crumpled,
and then tell me stories
about your creases, your scars;
memories living in jars

tell me how it hurt
to be molded impetuously
because you still feel pain
when your wrinkles look like veins,
fragile streaks of vulnerability
flowing within you,
all over you,
and i will tell you
that i could not care less
if you are a mess of crooked roads;
if you are no longer like the others
devoid of folds
because these folds define you,
and the others do not crumple
in the same way as you do

you are paper,
skinned from nature
let yourself be written,
and then tell me stories
about yourself, your tales
without ever having to use a pen
i am aware that the title seems illogical but i thought it would be a good one to catch your eye and warm your heart.
How do you taste a woman?
Do you let your breath
Take over her skin
Or do you,
Gently
Uncover
Her treacherous,
Deceitful, delightful touch?

Do you take her sight for granted,
As if it was yours to own,
As if she would
Never vanish,
Or do you know
She's nothing more
Than a chimera on a wall,
Than Clotho's spinning thread
In an ancient story of forgiveness...

Do you trust her soft and humid body,
Like a silky cloth soaked in
Spicy peppermint oil,
Or do you fear
Her lips
As if they'll
Harm the pulse
Of your easily grown
Desire for all that she has enchanted?

Do you let her fingers linger
Somewhere in between
The locks of hair,
As they were
Her only to poses,
And make them come alive
Like serpents shadows on a desert's moonlight?

All in all, a woman cannot be
Taken for granted,
As she isn't there
Only because
You see her
Near.
No.
A woman is
A passing shadow
For your mesmerized vision.

A woman is that summer rain
On your heated body,
Or that devastating
Storm on a
Moroccan
Desert.
She is both
Dust and wind,
Love and hatred,
Hope and despair.
She is nothing more
Than clear, cold water.

So drink the woman
As you taste
Water
Turned
Into good wine
And tell me, stranger...
How do you taste a woman?
thank you for all your comments and likes. never thought that this poem would be so appreciated. thank you again and again.
 May 2017 Weedy pops
Nylee
A single day,
for the whole life
you loved me,
made me who I am today.
Things that you left behind
and the struggle you went through
to give me better future  .
A single day to express my gratitude
and to apologise for my ill mannered attitude
is not enough
.
For my Mother
 May 2017 Weedy pops
k
I walk around feeling like a bullet wound. / like I am shot full of holes and always bleeding out. This is the type of pain that you can never find reprieve from. / I put my love and trust in a number of emotional assasins. / Well disguised as friends and lovers. / Then, in one fell swoop a wrecking ball was taken to the entirety of my life. / I quietly collected the salvagible pieces and receeded off into the shadows. / I have been clutching the shattered fragments close to my chest ever since. / sometimes it draws blood. / sometimes it makes it hard to breathe.
An excerpt from a book I will probably never write
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