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Natasha Sep 11
First I fell for your eyes
With hazel specks and inviting guise
Then I fell for your laugh
Uneven and hearty and somewhat shy.

Soon I fell for your hands
Then your lips, your brain, and incredible drive—
Your truths, your dreams, your curious smile
Your biggest regrets and most convincing lies.

And now I’ve fallen for you.
And all at once it feels jeopardized—
I fear to confess
Those 3 little words that
Historically have been so weaponized.
pk tunuri Mar 6
Let go your ego's, even if it's tough
Let's just say, that time was rough

Don't break the trust again by playing bluff
End this now, I guess it's enough

It's time to clean up the mess
How long will you take to confess

I'll expect nothing more from you
I know things won’t be same, as I expect to

Still, try & let go your ego's, even if it's tough
Let's just say, that time was rough
Let going your ego might be the toughest part of our lives. But, trust me it's the easiest way to move on.
NC Aug 26
This is the only thing I can do, fill my heart with feelings then spill into word by word, confess by confess, tears by tears that can leave me to ease.
She doesn't know how much you matter,
How you into guns n' roses,
How you fake your laugh on the lame jokes,
And couldn’t make your day beautiful as her face,
Not yet.
But when you look into her eyes
I can see the ends as it's begins
She is the type that you about with no doubt,
She will through a long time and realize every seconds is precious.
Finally, know you better than I do, nobody's care about my feelings nobody's don't even know it's exist, they better not. I can bring my feelings to the lightest east as long as I can say the title of this poetry
Monica Oct 12
This is a confessional poem

but what crimes have I committed?
I have not pled
guilty or

Maybe innocent by reason of insanity.

I am not under a lamp
in a windowless room.
No officers are grilling me.
I have nothing to hide
yet nothing to tell.

This is a confessional poem

but what are my sins?
I don't tell those to
just anyone who

I am not on my knees
in a reverential box.
There is no screen
with a priest on the other side.
I am not being

This is a confessional poem.

But why?
Because I use the

All this is
is my pen, my paper,
and you.

And I ain't tellin' you nothin'.
MeanAileen Mar 2017
Tell me that I'm beautiful,
say it aloud tonight.
Tell me I mean everything,
confess I am always right.
Say that I'm like magic,
treat me just as a queen.
Speak words I long to hear,
let me live in a dream....
Shower me with promises,
drown me in your desire.
Whisper sweet devotions,
tho I'll know you're a liar.
Tell me how much you love me,
say you will never leave...
Feed to me these little fibs
I want so much to believe~
One of my personal favorites...
Casper 7d
The days,
My mine did break,
I was imprisoned,
Swept out of existence.
A boy lonely,
A sad one.
Craving to look once more,
I was hopeless,
Feast soon my misery.
Divert me,
From this morbidity.
Last I could resist,
No longer,
I will confess,
With tears I went.
Alyssa Underwood Apr 2016
From depths of woe I raise to Thee
The voice of lamentation;
Lord, turn a gracious ear to me
And hear my supplication;
If Thou iniquities dost mark,
Our secret sins and misdeeds dark,
O who shall stand before Thee?

To wash away the crimson stain,
Grace, grace alone availeth;
Our works, alas! are all in vain;
In much the best life faileth:
No man can glory in Thy sight,
All must alike confess Thy might,
And live alone by mercy.

Therefore my trust is in the Lord,
And not in mine own merit;
On Him my soul shall rest, His Word
Upholds my fainting spirit:
His promised mercy is my fort,
My comfort, and my sweet support;
I wait for it with patience.

What though I wait the livelong night,
And till the dawn appeareth,
My heart still trusteth in His might;
It doubteth not nor feareth:
Do thus, O ye of Israel’s seed,
Ye of the Spirit born indeed;
And wait till *** appeareth.

Though great our sins and sore our woes,
His grace much more aboundeth;
His helping love no limit knows,
Our utmost need it soundeth.
Our Shepherd good and true is He,
Who will at last His Israel free.
From all their sin and sorrow.

                           ~ Martin Luther (1483-1546)
When a boy thinks of a girl

his cheeks don't go red,
nor do his pupils dilate
but his heart beats as fast
as a horse's gallop in race

His lips strongly tremble
in the midst of conversation
his legs that won't settle
due to headstrong infatuation

her beauty overwhelms him
her cold hand warms his heart
her gaze,  like Medusa's
a romantic work of art

his thoughts full of appreciation
for whatever form she may have
a wonderful mem'ry,  imagination
a thought that can't be grasped

his thoughts he can't express
his mouth he cannot open
his words he can't confess
but his heart, ť was always broken

but all this is not really
'bout when a boy thinks of a girl
because in these words you can tell
that he always has loved her.
does the girl think of the boy?
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