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Lydia May 2018
"But what if we're wrong?"
It was silent
But her thoughts echoed around in my head as we laid on top of her pickup truck
I swatted at the eighteenth mosquito chewing on my leg
I don't want this to be love

We were tangled up in the acoustic music they play on the radio on Sunday mornings
She was trying to dream up something clever to write about
And I was pretending I could learn to play guitar through osmosis,
As if blending myself in with the harmonies, finding her in every lyric, and sheer willpower would give me wings or at least magic guitar hands

She set the alarm, checked it over and over
She was not going to be late for her first day
I told her I'd be asleep when she got home, she told me she knew
I told her to wake me up

I wasn't looking for perfect
Perfect really only applies in first year physics courses
After that, we learn to fall in love with "rough around the edges" or "unique" or "unfinished"
As if their life is a puzzle that we need to complete
Just so you know, it isn't

She bought me breakfast and dropped me off
She used to tell me she loved me, but I know she didn't
She does now, so she doesn't have to say it anymore
When I said, "love," before, I didn't really mean it
Not like I mean loving the garden on the balcony of her apartment or thunderstorms in May
Even if I was a puzzle that she completed (and I'm not saying that I am), we didn't need any glue to fit perfectly
The support on this poem has been unbelievably incredible. I am so grateful for this community with all of these lovely people :)

Please comment :)
Eleni Jul 2017
With her cowpoke
She went riding out with him
One dark and windy day.

The desert had forsaken their love and left their hearts astray.

As sharp as a cactus' spine, her lips did pine for days.

They sat around their victim's pyres tasting burnt bone, curdled blood.

She saw the mess of her cowpoke, blonde and brown beauties layed in the mud.

She asked why must these girls die
If their looks were truly good
He mumbled that his heart had been broken by the stormy flood.

So they swept across Arizona with it's bright windy haze
And withdrew their revolvers with eyes that met in gaze

They downed a couple of beers in the dusky saloon
Until right in front of them was the old rusty moon

Tonight she will riding out in the ****** lands
Where with her man she'll be soaking her rigid hands

In wine that oozes from the corpses in the sands
And in the sheets ridin' she'll take command.
Just a crazy cowboy song I wrote inspired by 'Riders in the Sky'. It basically describes a cowpoke couple who are murderers in the desert and their anti-platonic, ****** relationship.
Logan Robertson Nov 2018
What the fork is going on
We argue all knife long
The table settings a froze
What the fork is going on
Can't we at least spoon
A ladle here, a ladle there
What the fork is going on
We argue all knife long

Logan Robertson

11/30/2018
There were many a night it rained and the weather outside was fine.
Umi Feb 2018
Mixing tea, let's say lavender with something as simple as milk
Must sound silly and weird at first glance, as both come with their
own tastes and flavors which seem to not match at all.
Even the most unmatching couple can find bliss, harmony and
perfection in their very relationship, however.
Such as for the tea;

The milk manages to soften, embrace, advertise the taste of lavender
while leaving a pleasant aftertaste which is alike a ghost poorly
detectable, but present nonetheless after all.
With some sugar to sweeten this experience, it becomes divine,
something I would never have thought of, of such an odd couple.
The image of the lavender becomes overdrawn by the milk,
Engaging in a pure, creamy, brief white which reflects light just
in a majestic sense.
This is a taste to become lost in whilst reading a book in the best
of lightings, together with someone who causes your heart to race
and just turn ablaze

~ Umi
sara Jul 2018
I saw a glimpse of heaven on an old park bench
but you said the location didn't make much sense
and struggled to see the wonder amongst all the falling leaves,
so I sighed, and got up, asking if we should leave.
reflection helps me learn not to let other people **** on your wonder x
Aaron Combs Mar 2015
This, this garden I made you, the garden of flowers,
I hope you might find strength through them.
On the right, the bees work to find it's honey,
and the daffodils on the left are still so blue.
The lilies by the small creek, and the rows of many flowers
stand in every color. The green-leafed willow I planted
holds them underneath the red sky.

My heart fades, my strength fails,
but your soul, like this, is a garden ever-beautiful.

Your lips are apple blossoms, and your hair falls like the breeze
of the morning.  Your kindness, like a hot shower
after a full day of work, you are so sweet, kind.
You take care of the weak, and do all that is good.
Like a mysterious tree in the garden,
                             You stand beautifully.

Now many things stretch for mystery and desire in the world,
but my bride, my bride, my beautiful bride, you set them all free.
My second poem, Enjoy! Encourage hearts and  comments, goal is 200. Can you contribute to my goal?
Jarene Oct 2018
all i want
is to be
wrapped up in your hoodie
sleeping
with your arms around me
Nicholas Mar 13
Scattered across my bedroom floor,
glimmers of light staccato on wilted rose pedals

Memories of us, 
the faintest slapback of the person I was with you,
flicker with lethargic buoyancy 

Fondness for fondness sake,
denial as a delicacy

Your face, obscured in these floral polaroids
Impressions of who you were;
what you meant to me,
a struggle to behold
but recognizable in ripples across the faces of others

Remains of an entanglement that seemed to answer
why the universe was even formed to begin with

This omnipresent truth laying abed the other
jagged reality of our affair;
it was never you,
it was my self-possessing pursuit of wholeness
Musings on the idea that love can be a very selfish act and that, in it's absence, we sometimes look back on a former relationship, not because we still love or miss that person, but because we love/miss the way that person made us feel about ourselves.
Northern Poet Oct 2017
She broke his heart
It needed stitches
Then he said
All women are witches

She let him down
You’re not to blame
I’m leaving this town
It’s not the same
We had love
But it went away
What could have been
Wasn’t meant to stay

He can’t sleep
And his body itches
Then he said
All women are witches

One bad experience
Cut him deep in side
Deeper and deeper
With a rusty old knife
What was once love
Wasn’t meant to be
You’ll get over her
And those memories

The mind weeps
While the body twitches
Then he said
All women are witches

He took the wrong path
And he walked the line
She took him for granted
While he bought her wine
She lied to his face
Time after time
An utter disgrace
He’s now doing just fine
It's never easy
But you've got to let go
Enough is enough
I’m tired of this show
Now he's free as a bird
And back on track
He’s ****** her off
And got his life back

Now she’s gone
He removed the stitches
And no longer thinks
All women are witches
Umi Mar 2018
Time is moving
In a stream of wonderous murderous intending, sacrificing sadness,
My ****** devotion, ought to shed blood in a distorted dark was but an perishable spring dream, looping without an end through nights,
On sleepless nights, the ghosts of the past gets stuck within a river of pure thoughts, a lake birthing memories in secret, subsconsciously,
Discard your common sense, sacrifice your sanity for just this second,
When the moon stands high in the sky, a bonfire seals the nights start
To its creeping shadows, they do not crackor sparkle under the twinkling stars of this celestial ceiling of pure majesty for nyctophiles,
Even our natural satelite agrees, dying itself into a lunatic scarlet red,
Darkness upon darkness, with layers of shadows overlapping one another as the light begins to dim, thanks to the disappearing moon,
An imaginated landscape, created from only pure rage and fury,
But whereabouts of the heart, are likely to be lost to the thought of love I carry within a broken chest of treasury, losing all emotions,
Even if my scarlet eyes were to be losing their ability yet to see,
I would be able to count on you to guide me, through the everlasting,
The dream I awoken from, was a moonlit night turning crimson, losing its radiance through the soft eclipse of the moon, gently, slowly
But you were there, within the far away landscape drawn in my heart

~ Umi
Umi May 2018
Walking on shoes of glass,
Will I find any hold, or will I find myself breaking down into pieces ?
The phantoms of a night's serenity rage to the nihilism within my questions, as painful wind brushes to the tip of my averted, eyes..
Breaking down into to the pieces of shattered glass, I cannot move,
Our dreams spilled and vanished when you let go of my hand,
Restoring the shattered pieces I can't leave you, I don't want to!
But even if I continue walking on these crystal heels, I'll fall once more, won't I? Yet I choose to step on this fragile, frail foot wear,
Though, the real question is, if you will be there to catch me again,
Careful steps, in order to maintain an elegant glance, to not break down again and shatter our hearts with the broken glass of misery,
Swaying back and forth, unsteady and unable to lower my guard,
I stare at the sight of the abyss next to the bridge we are crossing,
If the glass shatters and you are to catch me again we surely will fall,
But even so, verily we would fall down together,
And that is what I find very beautiful.

~ Umi
Daisy Marrow Sep 2013
Oh, you were a book that I never have read
and ask anyone I have read them all.
I studied your cover and fell in love with your spine.
Oh, let me read you
let me explore your mind.

You were an album
and I loved all your songs.
I could sing them none stop all day long
and they would never get old,
not a single one.

You were my favorite flower
and I was a selfish kid
that wanted to pick you,
and keep you all to myself instead.

But you were a song
I had stuck in my head
I sang along until night when I crashed in bed.
We fit together just listen to our harmony.
Come on over
and keep me company.
You can bring your guitar and I'll bring mine
we'll be an unstoppable duet
just you & I
Northern Poet Oct 2017
When you're with someone
That you don't love
What will you do
When push comes to shove

Do you sit there in silence
In these self-hurt times of violence
Or do you cut the rope
And lose all hope
'Until death do us part'
Or will you go back to the start

Do you lie and cheat
Until you start to spy
And then you can't eat
You can't even sleep
And you never felt so cheap
And *****
It was only
A bit of flirting

What started out as ****
Is now all about trust
When the happiness fades away
It all turns to dust
Lara P Aug 2018
To love you is to love both
The storm and the sun
And the walk and the run

To love you is to love both
The heat and the cold
And the silver and the gold

To love you is to live in here
And to live in now
Like there is nowhere else to be

To love you is to laugh till I cry
And to cry till I laugh
And to always fly so high

To love you is to understand
And be confused
And know and be clueless all at the same time

Loving you is full of contradictions
Because you are one
A beautiful, uncrackable riddle

But my dearest, to love you
Is to love life
Itself
You make me the happiest I've ever been
Kathryn Irene Jul 2018
Under these stars

I lay by your side

Love is a metaphor.

Love is being able to understand, care, and give

unconditionally

I hold your hand in mine,

My heart would give its entirety to you

Love is a home and a safe place

To me you are perfect

I smile whenever I'm near you

Love is sacrifice.

Love is loyal.

Love is patient.

Love is strong.

With my entire heart,

I love you.

- SkullsNBones
From my instagram
www.instagram.com/SkullsNB0nes
.
On Instagram I took people's perspectives on love and turned it into a poem.
.
A special thank you to (the following Instagram users) @kalifornia1love, @mystic_wattpader, @commander.kathryn and @jamie.lynn.poetry for your contributions.
On a quiet winter afternoon
Near her balcony,
A lonely maiden sat gazing at the horizon.
Her starry eyes focused at a distant,
Wanting to know what lies beyond.
Under the bright blue sky.

A teen jumps out of his school bus
His face red with a bruise,
He makes his way towards his house.
Exhausted of his unfair life,
He limps as he climbs the stairs.
Under the bright blue sky.

Ten years go by
The two meet in a foreign land,
Bruised, broken and alone.
Their eyes lock in an eternal duel,
In a quiet a lane of a bustling city.
Under the bright blue sky.

Sixty years later
A lady gazes towards the horizon,
Reminiscing her younger times.
As nostalgia plays on the background,
She looks at her husband and smiles.
Under the bright blue sky.









Tanay Sengupta, Copyright © 2019.
All Rights Reserved.
I finally tried to follow the new pattern, as done by many well-known poets of my generation, the pattern of no rhymes. Although, I must say it was not easy for me, you see I am old school and I like poetry with rhyme. So, I repeated one rhyming line throughout the entire poem just for my satisfaction. Sorry for being selfish and I hope you like it.
velvetstunner Apr 15
strong hand on my neck
whispers of a long decadent night
heat on my ***
**** in your lungs
two addicts living.
under the stars, with the smell of chocolate croissant
now you are going to the Eiffel tower's restaurant

merci beaucoup lovers
come back sooner than fires

hope you guys stay together
cuz you seem good for each other


Muhammed Emin KUŞASLAN
Thank u for reading.

To see the full version of "the couples in Paris" and also
to see my other poetries you can check this link.
https://survivalinstinctspoetry.blogspot.com/

My instagram: @eminkusaslan

Take care **  -E
Luiz Dec 2018
Part 1

She was the type
that would float
him to conversations
with angels

in one delicious word

Part 2

He was the type
that would caress
her sweet lips
to a silence

so that he would not
elevate with words
above her pedestal of
worship

THEM - C

Luiz D. Syphre
© 2018
an M&M Edition Series
Do you remember the night I came
down, and you were sitting on the
windowsill? One leg up and the
other left hanging, in one of your
white oversized shirts and your
hot-pink pajama pants. Outside
the snow fell like feathers, blue
in the moonlight and black in the
shadows, with a tinge of orange
from that annoying nearby streetlight.

You looked at me, saw me in my
blue boxer briefs and teal t-shirt,
and you didn’t say a word, and
neither did I. Neither of us had
to. I sat down beside you, a mirror
image, and we stared with deafening
expressions. The snow piled on
like feathers strewn across the
room of two lovers too happy to
control themselves. I looked into
the darkness, and you glanced at
the orange sun tainting the solemn
blue hue. And then you turned away,
walked away. I stayed, watching
the snow fall in the dark.


-
by Aleksander Mielnikow
'Ello ya'll! So, I'm usually too busy stroking other things to ****** my own narcissism, but I just want to say that, if I take my ego out of the equation and judge this poem dissociatively, I believe it is the best poem I have written. I wrote it with the intent of there being a deeper meaning behind it. But since I've written it, I keep thinking of different ways you readers would interpret the bits and pieces, and I keep coming up with countless different ideas between the images and details and the relationship. It's honestly freaking me out. But aside from my obvious boasting, I would encourage you other poets and writers to read back on your own works and try doing the same thing. Put yourself in someone else's shoes and see if your bits and pieces can be interpreted in a different light than you initially intended. You might be pleasantly surprised that one of your works is more complex than you thought possible, and you can use what you learn from that odd experience in future works. Anyways, I hope my shameless self-promotion isn't too intrusive in my bigger message/advice, and in the end I just hope you read and enjoy. Ciao!
Smriti Gupta Jan 11
Our love story was untold like every love story,
It was our victory, our own glory!
It all started with a simple and sweet proposal...
She didn't find it perfect and so followed a refusal.

They chatted day and night,
But still there was something and so she was quiet.
Finally one day it all worked out...
He was so happy it made him shout

Everyone one was glad they were together,
Their joyance made the atmosphere touch the feather.
Days passed with the same pace,
But they were unaware about the world's face.

Then came the romantic month unusual.
It was all beautiful but the other half wasn't suitable.
Their families got them separated in all ways,
They weren't in contact for many a days.

Later life got a turn and they had to be together,
And so they decided to make it forever.
This time they thought of keeping it private,
So they could ease the conditions and survive it.

In this love story their enemy was not the society...
But the same people who call them their first priority.
They still live in the same was with each other,
And look at the stars together... Which makes the moment last forever.
NC Aug 2018
Something different in your eyes
Isn't it a fire?
What are you prepare?
Then why do I care?
It can make me melt, I wouldn't dare.

You introduce me to our river
So I can see you clearer
There's a poison and water
Unintentionally became a power

A couple things I compare
Between you and the scripture

A couple things I aware
When you and me already perspire

It's strange, we bring our bodies to suffer
Why don't wait until we sober
And we can start over.
©anecstatic 2018
King Panda Oct 2015
everything is on sale
and I eat and eat
and yell at the couple
arguing in the ATM line
and smirk at the pharmacist
as I toss my meds in the
can behind the counter
king soopers
my realm
of crushed potpourri
honeycrisp apples
black cocktail dresses
stuck
shut with
peanut butter

I love grocery
shopping.
You told me, "It's over..." again. I know that, Jorge... It's been over.
You know that and I know that.. And of course...
You know I know that.. So who was the validation for?
Let me ask and pretend I don't already know who..
Let me ask and pretend like you'll tell me the truth...
The truth that I already know with every fiber of my being..
The truth you know is the truth, but will NEVER have the guts to tell me...
Let me ask who has been taking your time..
& doing such a GREAT job keeping ME off your mind...
& let me go ahead and pretend
To believe all the lies
that escape your lips then,
like rain from clouds, so effortlessly... so naturally...
Jorge, it's true.. ignorance IS BLISS..
So I beg you, for my own sake, let your lies fall all around me,
All the while,
I'll dance in them proudly
and FOOLISHLY..
Because I HONESTLY believed
You. Were. Mine.
& please love, don't stop.. Until I'm drowing in THIS...
In my last Moments -
leave me.. Like you've done every time...
To sink.. Like an anchor carrying the weight of the world, deeper..
and deeper.. and farther away from the surface..
Still too blind in love to even notice...
That I'm the only one WHO
is wasting away... all the days in my own life...
But I'm still seeing visions of YOU...
So I believe that I'm fine...
Even though you've proven you will never BE..
here - to stay - by my side..
The ludicrous hopes in my simple mind...
Absurd, are so pathetically con-vinced;
It. Will. Be. Different.
... this time.
It never has been. It never is.
I know, I know, I know this...
& yet... Despite...
I still think you'll come back & save me..
Cause you wouldn't just let me die,
right?
Although my love - you did.. Let me die like this..
Time and time and time again...
I'll gladly die this way - it's my life to spend -
drowning, figuratively, a hundred, a thousand, a million more times...
Until then,
The beat of your heart is ENOUGH,
to keep my feet above your falling words, but they rise...
Dancing in my own death, So in LOVE...
Ignorantly.. pretending
I believe all your lies.
*DEDICATED TO JORGE G.*
By: Miranda Martinez-Perez
©MLove559
Sun. July 6, 2018 (11:58pm) - Sat. July 7, 2018 (3:04am)

This was actually a letter I wrote to him... Only.. half way through writing it- I realized it was a good letter, but it was begging to be a great poem. So that's what it became. .....
It's still to Jorge, though...
I love You...
& I'm missing you.
Chiquita Jun 2018
I never knew that
happiness could take on form;
but then I met you.
❤️❤️❤️
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