Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Aug 2018 Joan
stargazer
Trust
 Aug 2018 Joan
stargazer
I give you my trust
That belongs to so few
So old, it's covered in rust
It's been years since it grew

My trust has grown tough
Having been broken too many times
It's calluses are rough
Rougher than the skin of limes

I am trusting you
Please be careful with me
Promise you'll be true
I break very easily

I love you
That's a fact
Truer than true
It's not an act

So take my trust
Treat it with care
Lest it be dust
Crushed out of despair
Paranoia gets the better of me all too often, but many times I am right to be paranoid. We live in a lying, cheating, broken world.
 Aug 2018 Joan
Virginia Kasmi
You are the burn of a paper cut,
on my highly sensitive skin.
A sharp pain, a quickly drawn ****** line.

You are the cold of a brain freeze,
on a hot summer day.
A few seconds of a heart on fire and a mind on ice.

You are the slams of my heart against my ribs.
Irregular, too fast, breathtaking.

And yet you are the ecstasy of my thoughts.
A trigger of uncontrolled feelings,
a spread of joy.
And I want more, and more, and more.
 Aug 2018 Joan
anoamnes
Walls
 Aug 2018 Joan
anoamnes
I said I would never love again
I built my walls up
20 feet high
I was left in pieces

I swore I would never fall for anyone again
But with one look my walls came down
I've felt this way before
How do I tell you?

I try and keep them up
But you destroyed my defences
I don't want to fall for you
I don't want to hurt you

I am one broken person you don't want to fix
I don't want my walls to fall down
But there is one thing that is true
I love you
This is for someone very special
 Aug 2018 Joan
raphæl
tides
 Aug 2018 Joan
raphæl
your dark ocean eyes
surpass the depths I have known
will your tides be here?
if I ever scared your waves,
will you want to conquer fear?
 Aug 2018 Joan
lX0st
Matisse
 Aug 2018 Joan
lX0st
Paint me a picture
Of your skin
Does it bronze beneath the sun?
Or sizzle and blush
Like your cheeks
When you’re in love?
Is it soft to the touch
Like when your palms graze
The smooth surface of water?
Or rough around the edges
Like your favorite book
And its lovingly worn corners?
Does it melt in the heat
Like sweet syrupy treats
Dripping through your fingers?
Or does it welcome the winter
With wide open arms
As if greeting a lover?
Paint me a picture
Of your skin
 Aug 2018 Joan
emnabee
The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.
A little escape from the madness.
Or maybe, into.
Next page