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Blue Orchid Aug 2018
Describe it to me; that perfect moment, when the sun peeked out of the horizon and you were standing there, up on the hill, waiting for her to emmerge.

Describe it to me; that dazzling day, when you held on to the very end of your sanity, rocking it in to the burial ground you had been digging for years.

Describe it to me; that cold winter day when the river was full and the tide strong, and you decide it was a good day for a swim.

Describe it to me; that quite evening, right after the sun set you sat through, you saw a cluster of fireflies and they glowed like the world was a good place.

Describe it to me; that fatal day when you went out to your garden and the flowers didn’t look pretty anymore so you took the gasoline and a match, and watched the inferno swallow your lives work.

Describe it to me; that hectic weekend when you fell in love twice in two days and you couldn’t believe your heart was big enough to accommodate such strong emotions. You felt dizzy and nauseated but also suspended far away from gravity like a rollercoaster ride on the moon.

Describe it to me; that never ending month where your only companies were the blanket you loved and the music that stacked your phone. You felt lost as if all roads were interminable maize’s that you were tired of going in circles in.

Describe it to me; that quite night, you first tasted the lips of a cigarette and you held it between your own squeezing ever so gently. You sighed sensing the choice in your hands, whether or not you decided to die from this magnificent sin were yours and yours alone and you smiled crookedly as the match found its peak.

Describe it to me; that well played afternoon where you were only twelve and you were with her, your first love even before you were acquainted with the very concept of love and she told you to close your eyes. You felt it, that first pressure against your lips and you never remembered why your eyes stayed close but you assume it was to preserve that instant for eternity.

Describe it to me; that wet morning as you stood away from the moderately assembled crowed and you watched as they slowly descended your heart in a casket with her still holding it and you could never forgot the deafening silence that followed the crash of sand atop her as if it was the instant you went deaf to the world. Tears never left your eyes because there was nothing left to cry for.


Describe it all to me as if I was never there to witness it.
Hisham Alshaikh Jul 2018
You are beautiful
You are tremendously beautiful
You are marvelously beautiful
You are astonishingly beautiful
You are magnificently beautiful
You are breathtakingly beautiful
Inner and outer

You are beautiful
You are the definition of Beauty
Or shall I say, what is Beauty compared to you
What is Beauty compared to you ?
It feels shy and ashamed when I describe you
A weak meaning it has when I describe you
A meaningless meaning it has when I describe you
Never existed it wishes when I describe you

You are beautiful
For your beauty I searched
Every language ever lived
And every word ever existed
And the romantic era that occurred
Could not find a way to describe your beauty
Could not find a way to tell the world about your beauty

You are beautiful
Vocabulary will be invented
Words never existed
To the dictionaries will be added
In the dictionaries will live
In the lovers tongues will breath
To describe your beauty
The one and the only beauty
The living and the dead will forget about Cleopatra
Because your beauty is ultra
A new period will start, The Beauty Era
Your era

--Hisham Alshaikh
You're Beautiful. Version 1.
Amber S Mar 2011
what can i say,
that hasn't already been said?
in the epic stories
in the love poems recited
too many times.

i could try to make up
lines saying how you
make me feel

but i can't.
because, words cannot
describe it.
words cannot describe how
fast my heart races.
words cannot describe how
what your lips feel like.
words cannot describe how
your eyes paralyze me.
words cannot describe

how perfect you are.

i tried
in this silly poem
still, it does you no justice

i will keep trying
thinking of words that describe
your beauty

there are so many words in the dictionary.

but none describe you
Describe yourself. Describe this world. Describe a tree. Describe an iPhone, a dung beetle, a circling vulture, a pill you swallow daily.

Things, millions of things, are occurring simultaneously around us and it is up to us what we decide to describe as note-worthy.

We mentally decide what is praiseworthy.

Strive to describe only that which is worthy, when we are surrounded by so much that unworthy.
jeffrey conyers May 2015
Be it her.
Be it him.
Many times, we just say we do.

Then if pushed to describe why?
That's the part seem hard to do.
When it's the one we standing before we love.

Describe why?
Why you love them deeply?
Describe their importance to you.
Yes, describe why?

Why they make you feel vital to them?
Why you go out of your way to do for them the things you do?
And in return they might describe why they truly loves you?

Say it.
Write it.
Describe it too.
Love importance has made many acts like a fool
Janay May 2012
My Words Can Not Describe
the way I feel inside
the hurt and pain
that feel likes bullets hitting me in my back
My Words Can Not Describe
the anger I feel
it feels as almost as its strong enough to ****
My Words Can Not Describe
the LOVE I have for you
My Words Can Not Describe
what I've been through in this lifetime
My Words
most of all will never be able to
describe me
Pyrrha Jul 2018
I find it strange that when I look into your eyes I'm not met with an endless starry sky. The world around me doesn't freeze or turn monochrome around everyone but you. I don't see an endless sea or visions of a setting sun, no matter my determination. So how do I know it is love if it isn't as the words I've heard all my life describe?

Yet my heart still drops when you walk into the room, even when your focus is a place far off. People say it's like a flutter but this is far too heavy to use such a light word to describe such a feeling. It's painful, but I know it isn't something ominous or bad because it feels right. How do I know it is love if none if my words describe it right as they should?

I get it every time our eyes meet or you tilt your head and smile with your head in the clouds. I get it when you laugh to yourself or say something hardly above a whisper. When you focus so hard you ***** up and let out that silly sigh of aggravation and I feel such deep affection. Yet is it alright for me to say what I feel is love when I can't even tell myself what love is?

I don't think your eyes need starry skies or my stomach needs a million butterflies. Your smile doesn't need to illuminate the room and my thoughts for you don't need an anchor. Your love shouldn't have an expectation and my words don't need to have a proper diction.

Perhaps I'll see it in your heart or feel it in your touch one day if you feel the same regardless of what the world has sold me with their modern day poetry. I promise you that no matter how hopeless I become I will find out for myself  what it means to love you wholly, even if I have to find out from loving at a distance.
I don't understand why I write so many poems about love when I am not even in love. It is so frustrating to have words without a muse and a muse without words.
Hailey Allen Mar 2017
How do I describe a smile?
Charming, joyful, soft
So bounce around
And laugh a while
That's how I describe a smile

How do I describe a smile?
Loving, cheerful, kind
So run very fast
And cheer for miles
That's how I describe a smile
Smile everyone
Hisham Alshaikh Jul 2018
You laugh
Angels weep out of jealousy
Devils have no single conspiracy
Demons dancing in harmony
Men hearts go broken with no remedy
Women eyes tearing continuously
Violins break out of envy terribly
Composers have no more creativity
Music plays with no melody
Silence starts listening joyfully
Happiness laughters left in agony
Beautiful words describe nothing but misery
Tulip flowers become colorless shamefully
Believers lose their faith immediately
Infidels drop their convictions instantly
Hearts start beating rapidly
Lungs oxygenating quickly
Living ones laying listening carefully
The dead come back miraculously

--Hisham Alshaikh
You Laugh. Version 1.
madison Jun 2014
How I describe myself.

Back fat.
Muffin top.
Flabby arms.
Thunder thighs.
Double chin.
Ugly.
Four rolls.
Worthless.
Jelly belly.
Gross.
FAT.

How others describe me.*

Funny.
Outgoing.
Warm.
Comforting.
FUN.

The list isn't nearly as long, now is it?
Ugh sometimes I just hate myself and my body and everyone says that I look fine but I don't ever believe them and I just need somebody to rant to...
p.s. I didn't really know if I should've posted this one but oh well.
Devan Ducasse Jun 2017
Its hard to write a poem when you don’t feel anything
I’m not quite numb
But nor am I happy or sad
I’m just here

Its hard to write a poem when you aren’t sad
I try to describe the feeling of everything but nothingness
But all that comes out is not how I feel
I try to describe the feeling of having a ******* cloud over you
But thats not what I say
And I try to describe how it feels to have a blade across your skin
But whats comes is misplaced words

Its hard to write a poem when you aren’t happy
I try to describe the feeling of love when my girlfriend holds my hand
But all that comes out, is nothing like how it feels
I try to describe the way she plays with my hair and the love in her eyes
But all that comes out is mumbled words with a stutter
I try to describe how she lights up my day
But all that turns into is sadness

Its hard to write a poem when you don’t feel anything
When I’m as happy as can be
But I still want to cut
Its hard to write a poem when you don’t even know your own feelings
Alison K Aug 2014
It's the color of her eyes; the color of the sea. In both you could drown, or find God himself. It's the space between cities. Road signs & right turns, and the quiet determination to unravel in her arms. The sheets on her bed at 3am, where she whispers "I love you" and you've never been so sure of anything. The breath you exhale after you kiss her; it's the color of the blood pumping through your heart. The heart that she keeps beating. The heart that has her name written all over it. It's the heaviness in anticipation. The insatiable desire for a minute, just one minute. It is not the opposite of passion, like once suggested. It is passion itself. It is the sound of whispers. Her breath on your neck, and shivers down your spine. The color that fills in the weeks until you see her again. But most importantly, it will always be the color of her eyes. And it is no coincidence they are the color of the sea.
Perri May 2015
The only way I know how to describe depression
to people who don't understand what it is like,
is by telling them

"Imagine,
you had this awful ache
inside of your soul.
It embeds itself so deep,
like the darkest, most painful bruise you ever received,
but it has attached itself like a leech, to your soul.
It is a part of you,
constantly throbbing,
which makes other parts of your body hurt.
As the throbbing in you soul continues,
it branches off into your head, where it grows like a ****.
Your brain starts to throb to the point where you can almost feel it
becoming too large for your skull to contain.
You almost want to do unthinkable things,
to release all the pressure in your head.
The throbbing continues into all your muscles.
Every move is painful and draining.
You go about your life, into the world as a normal person
putting on a facade,
when really,
you can't even fathom how you are taking every step and every breath.
You are just one big ball of throbbing energy.
Now imagine feeling that everyday."

That is the only way I can describe it.
J e n n Jun 2014
I could describe your image
the curves of your body
as if you were standing before me

I could describe the smell
of every t-shirt you own
as if it were labeled with the scents name

I could describe the taste
of your lips when we collide  
as if they were a dream I never forgot

I could describe you
as so many things
but my favorite is
the fact that you're mine

j.h.
Grace Jul 2016
Today, I saw a person in front of me, their eyes on something else
and I took a moment to inspect them,
and then I realised it was myself.

There they were, wearing the clothes I had put on in the morning,
wearing the face I recognise in pictures
and standing exactly where I was standing.
But, they were not me – in that moment, they were not.
How could I be that girl, that women standing there in that shop?

The body inside is not that one I saw in the mirror,
the one who was looking a different way.
Inside, I’m more, I’m smaller, I’m darker, I’m paler and
I dress for them each morning, choosing from the clothes
not bought for them exactly,
but forced to match them, to meet halfway.
I knew it then, with a glance at the mirror person, nothing pretty would be bought today.

And it wasn’t.
Some days, it’s dungarees.
Other days, it’s dresses.
Some days, it’s shorts and leggings.
It all depends on who I’m playing as and
I’m sure that’s all okay, but then they say describe yourself in three words.

How can I describe myself, this person  I do not know?

So I go for the easy option and choose them from a list:
Quiet
Creative
Studious
And I suppose, that’s one way of putting myself into three words;
one way of putting myself into an easy to understand formula.

But it doesn’t cover it.
Three words don’t cover it.

Because really, I think I’m just an observer inside my own imagination,
an observer inside my own life and all these other lives inside my head.
I’m just the implied narrator of this person in the mirror
and all these others, who come and go in different places.

But then the girl in the mirror reminds me that tomorrow is my birthday,
a day to celebrate the fact I exist outside of my head
and then she touches a shirt, made of itchy fabric
and there’s life outside the overwhelming inside,
a life where I need to describe myself in three words
and fit into those three words and into that one person,
looking at something else, not in the mirror.
sammybunnie May 2014
If you ask me to describe him,
where will I start?
I can’t possibly fathom my thoughts into words
and turn him into a description of art.

But I can try my best,
try to pick him apart.
Describe him in words,
perhaps in four different parts.

I’d start with volcanoes
for he’s just like one.
Where his touch feels like lava,
but surprisingly calm.

Up next are earthquakes,
since his heart is one.
It makes the world shake
causing me to run.

Third would be hurricanes,
since his mind is one.
He’s a drug I should abstain,
that makes me come undone.  

Last would be forests,
since he’s full of secrets.
Hiding and waiting,
to be uncovered by none.

He’s a mystery,
yet someone I trust.
He is impossible to describe,
and rarer than pixie dust.
Original poem by Sam Barnes.

Someone recently asked me to describe my boyfriend, and I came up with this.
How shall I describe thee?
       -     My lady

whose face is the golden planet,
whose hair is the black rain clouds.

How shall I describe thee?
       -     My gentlewoman

whose forehead is the lingering sunrise,
whose eyebrows are the waxing crescent moons.

How shall I describe thee?
       -     My jane

whose eyes are the brown loti of the milk ponds,
whose nose is the sharp peak of the snowy mountain.

How shall I describe thee?
       -     My fair maiden

whose cheeks are the blooming red roses,
whose ears are the aureate reniform leaves.

How shall I describe thee?
       -     My damsel

whose lips are the archer’s bow,
whose tongue is the sensuous arrow.

How shall I describe thee?
       -     My duchess

whose teeth are the pearl necklaces on rose petals,
whose chin is the platinum scallop shell.

How shall I describe thee?
       -     My lady

whose beauty has no limits,
whose pride exceeds the summit.


By Jeyagajany Jeyanathan
Alyssa Sunico Apr 2013
It was nothing like the movies
No cheesy pick up line
No accidental touch of hands
Not even and intense gazing.

Yet no movie or book can describe it
The moment when you notice things;
First, the tone of his voice
Second, the nonsensical gestures he makes.

These may be stupid and odd
But in that moment when “two” friends seriously talk
And suddenly look into each other’s eyes
Will you realize that shoot! You like him.
cursed Nov 2013
I have heard a lot of love phrases.
How could I live without you,
I would die without you by my side,
I would catch a grenade for you,
What did I do to deserve a person like you,
I am falling hard for you,
You are my world,
You are my oxygen,
Did it hurt when you fell from the heaven,
No words could describe how in love am I with you,
and the classic,
I will love you forever.


What other words could describe love
other than love itself?
What other words could describe the euphoria
I am experiencing
other than love itself?
What other words could describe the pain
I experienced after the goodbye
other than love itself?
What other words could describe the yearning
in my heart
other than love itself?
What other words could describe the contentment
in my heart and mind
other than love itself?

One last thing

What other words could beat the strongest words in the world;
As what people say,
What is the word?
(n.a)
Julz Nov 2013
I can describe to you what the sky looked like
It was blue without a cloud to speak of
I can describe to you what the water was like
It was brown and full of fish

I can describe to you what he looks like
His hair is black, his eyes are blue
I can describe to you what the weather was like
It was brisk with almost no wind

I can’t describe how I lost that time
I can’t describe how I lose the days

Time is a figment of imagination
Time is simply put there for a measure

It’s a measure of how long you hurt
It’s a measure of how long you love

It’s a measure of how long your love has been lost
Tim Benjamin Aug 2013
When people ask me to describe my father,
I try to do so as best I can.
He is a giant standing at least seven feet tall.
He is stronger then Atlas and Super Man put together.
And when he smiles, he can illuminate even the darkest of days.

When people ask me to describe my father,
I try to do so as best I can.
Because truth is he was never really there.
He was a magician, who at the drop of a cape would disappear.
He always smelled like old cigarettes and cheap alcohol.
And when he yelled at my mom, it would wake me from any dream.

When people ask me to describe my father,
I try to do so as best I can.
Because truth is, I never really knew my father.
But I can imagine what he would be like,
if he was still here.
Black and Blue Mar 2014
I used to think that love was having billions of elaborate words and beautiful phrases to describe someone’s beauty and how much you worship them.
I used to think that love was a tragic, oh so tragic, drama where heartbreak was inevitable and once it occurred you were set free. You were then freely allowed to write even more melancholic poems about how handsome their eyes are when they smile.

But now I know that it isn’t about writing lovely poems of how breathless they leave you; it’s about the feelings they leave you with that you cannot conjure or create words for.
But now I know that is isn’t about a grand sacrifice, a grand martyrdom, a grand abandonment of your tears and blood for their smile; it’s about compromising between fire & water, peace & war, the sun & the moon, to find a balance in which both factors can coexist.

But now I know that it isn’t about having an ocean of words you can use to describe the color of their eyes; it’s about being awestruck, with no existing adjective that could possibly capture how they make you feel, how godlike they appear to your eyes.

But now I know that it isn’t about being able to bring forth a tidal wave of glorious prose or soliloquy on their posture and grand gestures of self-pride; it’s about being speechless, where no phrase or paragraph or page will describe their tiny perfect gestures done in your name.

Love is allowing yourself to become so lost in someone, that it doesn’t matter what you have to say.
It’s as easy as letting your actions speak in place of your normally exquisite torrent of words.
It’s as easy as letting someone into your head & heart, so that they may share your feelings, for simply telling them with inadequate words would not be enough.
It would be so easy, to become swept away in the tide of emotion brought on by their presence.

That is to say, love isn’t easy.
Relationships aren’t easy.
Communication isn’t easy.
Trusting isn’t easy.
Love comes with a price.

Love that stirs apathetic crowds, love that launches a thousand ships, love that stops a million tears, love that changes the evil greedy world, love that rights wrongs, comes with a price. 

You must compromise.
You must bend but not break.
You must explore but not stray.
You must fight and communicate.
You must cry rivers of tears and break down the highest walls.
You must trust.

It is hard, it is the hardest thing you will ever do, but it must be done.

It is hard to trust so fully, trust so openly, that their love is what you exist on. It keeps you blindly shuffling through the dark, occasionally bumping heads and hurting one another.
It keeps you trying and pushing for more, because there are light spots in the dark, gloriously warm and inviting light spots where no shadows will ever exist.

It keeps you breathing, it keeps you surviving, it makes you human.

Trusting is hard, opening up is hard, we’re all just afraid of someone leaving us in the end, after the dust has settled and the battle has raged...right?
We’re all just afraid of letting someone close enough to see all of our nasty imperfections.
We’re all just afraid of letting someone close enough to decide that they do not like what lies underneath the beginnings of early affection.
We're all just afraid of letting someone close enough to show them each and every scar and smile, to explain each and every story of why they are there.
We’re all just afraid of rejection; and loving someone, and having someone love you in return, doesn’t vanquish this fear over night. 

I used to think that love was all winsome words and delightful thoughts and alluring formulas of letters.
But now I know that love is not all roses and forget-me-nots, yet it is not this dark twisted creature spewed from the broken hearts of young lovers.

Love is like every other valuable in this world, it is rare and it is to be treasured. It is to be held closely and grown and protected.
It is to be nourished and pruned and weeded.
It is a garden where only the most beautiful flowers may grow, if given the proper attention and care.
Yet, it is also to be treated like a wild beast: beautiful, and free, and pure, and dangerous.
It is a feeling of the world, of the earth, of the dirt.
It is wild and untamed and can turn it’s darkest face towards you at any moment.

Love is so much more than a poem, or a haunting melody, or a word meant to label some unreachable feeling.

Love is not easy, not always gentle, and never fully graspable.

And why write about things we cannot fully describe?

I used to think that love was having billions of elaborate words and beautiful phrases to describe someone’s beauty and how much you worship them.
I used to, and still think, that love is easy to define and clearly explain, but it is not.

Love, like every other cosmic and easily misconstrued notion of human existence, is not tied to any phrase, paragraph, or page.
Mariana Seabra Feb 2014
I wish I could define you.
But I don't know you.
I wish I could define the way I feel about you.
But, to define is to limit
And there are not enough words in the dictionary
To describe how crazy I am for you.
There are not enough oxygen in the world
To describe how breathless I get when I see you.
There are not enough philosophers
To talk about how mysterious you are.
There are not enough stars
To describe the galaxies inside of you
There are not enough water
To describe how good it feels to drown in your mind
There are not enough planes
To describe the way you flow in my thoughts
There are not enough of me
To describe how much I will want all of you.
Darryl M May 2019
Help me describe her:
It’s funny how we always run away from what we truly want.
I feel like a hunter, she’s the one I only want to hunt.
She got me bad, she’s got me down.
It feels like she’s from out of town.
A tourist who has made a home in my heart.
Forever welcomed by the warm of my thoughts.

Help me describe her:
She’s a confusing number,
I don’t know which one.
But she makes me look like a lost member.
Every time I come by, she’d be long gone.

Help me describe her:
I always text her, she’s my favorite notification.
And she always texts back, maybe out of benevolence.
Coz I’m starting to be an irritation.

Help me describe her:
Every guy has told her, she’s beautiful.
But I don’t think she really gets it.
Her pictures always hold me on mute.
Coz she’s a fantastic beaut.

Help me describe her:
I think world war started on the day she came to Earth.
But still she has a smile that could end any war.
Even her very presence is not a bore.

Ever fell in love?
The kinda love you never ever get back.
But suddenly you never think of even a step back.
Even when you down rollin’ with your old pack.
This person still got you bad, it’s like you on crack.
You fail every time you hit on them,
Oh, what the heck.

Just forget about the past.
I know they used to be a must.
a Feb 2015
blue.
it is the color that always fades inside
of you.
it's the wind ******* the globe.
it's the color of your son when he decides to leave home,
it is the taste of the morning air, even when you
wish it weren't;

(especially then.)

blue is the color of past lovers eyes
because those blue ones always say
good-bye.
blue is one deep breath and a handful of doubt,
blue is for people you've learned to do without.
it's under your eyes when you find
yourself lost in your mind,
                   searching for another color wheel to climb.
colors don't share, but that's okay.
because blue is the color that always fades.
Daniel Ruiz Aug 2018
I'm here sitting
alone,
the smell of coffee runs through
my veins,
some music i probably will forget
in a few years arguing with
the thought of you,

But I'm here,
I'm here,
writing about what's happening

pretty boring huh?

i call myself a poet
but i can't use high metaphors,

i call myself a poet
but i can't describe fully
how you make me feel

i call myself a poet

but what am i?

I'm just a kid
scared of life
finding new ways to cope
searching for someone to love,
desperate,
not holding unto my dreams
how can i choose with my mind
what's right for the heart to choose.

and you see?
don't you see?

don't worry i can't either

i can't see how great i am
i can't see how other people see me
i wish i could.

i want to believe this was a dream
or
a nightmare at that.

But at last.
I'm here wishing that in another life
i could be with you,
or
maybe in other deaths,

i crave your touch,
i crave you..
with coffee waking up my senses
like a kid in summer waking up early
to go play with his friends.

i wish things were different,
so i wouldn't have to wish.
silent Dec 2013
angry is an easy emotion
it's easy to feel
easy to describe
easy to tame.
aggravation is an easy emotion
easy to feel
easy to describe
easy to tame.
annoyance is an easy emotion
easy to feel
easy to describe
easy to tame.
it's sadness that's the hardest
it's not easy to feel
when bed seems like the only place you're accepted
or when the simple task of breathing is daunting
how could that be easy?
it's not easy to describe
how do you tell someone you're dying inside
when you've been laughing all day?
how do you tell someone the sobs that attack your body
during the darkness & silence of the night?
how could it be easy to describe?
it's not easy to tame
how do you overcome the yearning for sleep? for death?
how do you overcome the blanket of numb that threatens everything
whether it be your movements or your process of thought?
how do you overcome something with so much influence?
how could it be easy to overcome?
Cheyenne Aug 2016
I've got a list of adjectives I use to describe myself
But their meanings change when told to someone else
jemma silvert May 2014
I think of you in colours that don't exist --
     that's not to say that I don't think of you at all,
          because, of course, technically every colour exists:
Even the ones we cannot imagine,
   Even the ones we cannot see.
Even the ones either side of the spectrum that light up the notes used for money, not music, because the notes used for money
   are
      not
         always
            real.
Even the ones either side of the spectrum that light up the heat of your body like your presence does the room
      and your eyes do my smile
           and your smile does my eyes;
You tell me that technically every colour exits,
   even if we cannot see it,
   even if we cannot imagine it –

For think of it now.
          Imagine in your head a colour that does not exist.
                    Now describe it to me.
Is it a splash of red with tints of a yellowy-blue?
Is it a pinky-purple hue,
    a hint of green, turquoise, maroon, sapphire, olive, violet?
Does it already exist in colours we already have names for,
      have we lived so long that every thought we think is no longer our own,
            every thought we think has been thought of before,
I think of you in colours that don’t exist
   but so has everyone else.

We cannot see it,
      we cannot imagine it.
But if we cannot imagine something that does not exist
   simply because we are confined to describing it
      in the words of an already existent language,
   what does that say about us?
We can imagine a waterfall of chocolate,
       a glass elevator bursting through the roof;
   shrinking potions and growing potions and talking rabbits.
We can imagine standing on the top of a building
      looking out over the greying city lights
            with lungs full of water
            a noose round our necks
            and the sole belief in our heads that we are jumping to fly
We can rewrite the future and make up the past
We can imagine wizards and witches and fairies and goblins
We have unicorns, ******* it,
     we have God.

And yet when I present to you a lover,
   an artist,
      standing in front of you now,
         yearning to make you his canvas,
You are too scared to fall in love,
              too scared to admit that you don’t have the words in your encapsulating little language to describe the things that you feel towards him.
For he does not need language,
   he does not need words.
He will stand here now,
   in front of you,
      and let you grace his collarbones with a diamond noose,
                          crown his withered corpse in a wreath of daisies,
                          dress his bones in slashes of rubies.
He will tear himself apart for you,
     for you,
     for you to watch galaxies flow out of his veins,
  velvet red blood screaming unwritten poetry,
  a torrent of unimagined colours pouring into him and out of him
          and with his one last remaining breath
              and a trembling hand,
he picks up his paintbrush
      and draws you into orbit,
  and like his fingers used to trace your shattered ribcage
    like the keys of an ivory piano,
he traces the outline of your lips.
And at last you draw breath,
         to whisper his name, to whisper your love, and all that remains
   is silence.
And you choke on the air and sound is still
         for all words exist so none can be spoken and suddenly everything
   is black.
And I think of you in colours that don’t exist
     like the wolf howls in lament of the side of the moon he will never see
          for all colours exist, and when I think of you,
there are none.

                                                      *-j.­s.
Amelia Owen Jul 2015
Me
I want to describe your eyes the way a poet can describe the sea
Though I am no poet
I am just me
I haven't been on in a very long time.
JMG Oct 2010
Lovely...
Lovely couldn't describe it
The way my heart melts when I'm with you
When I hold your delicate, soft, little hands
My mind shatters
All I can think is...Lovely...
Lovely...

Lonely
Lonely couldn't describe it
The way my heart shatters when I'm without you
When a tear drops from my face...along with many more
My life shatters
All I can be is...Lonely....
Lonely...

Lovely
Lovely couldn't describe it
Words or volumes alike
Nothing could describe it
What I feel when I melt inside your arms
All I can think is...Lovely...
But lovely couldn't describe it
JG, 2001
jeffrey conyers Aug 2014
Oh, I could use beautiful, wonderful, pretty, and gorgeous.
While knowing, there's no words to describe you.
And if there is.
Then no one word would fit you.

Many offer suggestion about their significant.
Except, we just going through human description.
Cause deep down inside, there's no words to describe you.
All because you're one of a kind.
Bethany Duvall Oct 2014
Beautiful. How do you describe this when beauty is claimed differently for everyone...
  
Every Man , Woman , and Child is adored by another dazzling human being . These people are beautiful despite faults , addictions , and wrecks of emotion . I yearn to discover the beauty that lies beneath a person's skin .
Bella Jul 2018
Sometimes I get stuck in this state of Darkness
where my eyes can see
but it's like my head is just pitch black
and I almost wish I couldn't see anything,
like I wish I could just curl myself into a ball so tightly that I disappear from space for a while

sometimes I get stuck in this space
and I feel like my tears and my thoughts
are climbing up my esophagus and clogging my throat
blocking my airway
suffocating me from the inside

maybe I never told you I was depressed because who wants to relive that moment
that choking hazard moment of cotton ***** in my throat

maybe I never told you I was depressed because there are no words I can use to describe it that don't transform themselves into their meanings
that don't take over my mind
crawl through my head like little worms
eating away at my brain
my thoughts
my skin

have you ever thought of a traumatic experience and then felt those events happening again
felt the dark hole of life-threatening-trauma attack your mind
Shiver through your body
like it was a demon you let in through a memory-
through a word

maybe I didn't tell you I was depressed
because I wasn't strong enough
my depression fills me to the brim
fills my head and my chest
my arms and my fingers
I can feel it moving through my body
I can feel it expanding and engulfing everything inside of me
every last vein, nerve, *****, and tissue
how can you expect me to have the energy to fight
how can you expect me to have the energy to pick up the phone
to open my mouth
how can you expect me to have energy-to have the courage to utter the words of how I feel
I feel so worthless
in those moments I feel like there's this black whole inside me and it's consuming everything
it's taking everything but my skin
and it disgusts me

can you imagine the feeling,
having something so utterly repulsive on your skin you had to scrape it off immediately
It felt like you needed to be cleansed
like you needed a shower
take that feeling
now imagine it being under your skin
imagine, every muscle ***** vein nerve every cell in your body underneath your epidermis disgusts you
imagine all you wanted to do was to
GET
IT
OFF
and you can't
no matter how hard you try
you can't scrape it off
you can't claw It off

imagine you're scared of spiders
now imagine you're covered in spiders
and someone's holding down your arms
so you can't get them off
imagine them walking on your skin
in your mouth
crawling on your open eyes
in your ears
you're cringing at your own skin
You can feel them going down your throat
Their disgusting tickle in the pit of your stomach
in every crevice of your body
their tunneling under your skin
and you can't get them off
what are you supposed to do
but cry
My best friend's mom who doesn't believe in depression asked why I never told her I was depressed...
Bo Burnham Mar 2015
Can I have a word, please?
It can be any word.
Just give me a word.

We can all share the rest.
Just let me have one.
It can be anything.
I'd take canteen or avid.
I'd even settle for timely.

But you can't use my word,
whatever it is,
without asking.
Because it's my word.

And I'll almost always let you use it when you ask.
Unless, for example, my word is wonderful
and you want to use it to describe a movie I haven't seen yet
or a movie I saw already and didn't care for.

I really want everything.
That's my first choice.
Flabbergasted is a close second.
jeffrey conyers Nov 2015
I heard about you.
Even heard you spoke highly of by others.
So I'm taking it upon myself to figure you out.

Hey Love!
Describe you.
Just what's so special about you?

Some say, you're strong.
Some say, you're affectionate.
Some say, symbolic.
Others states, you are trouble.

Hey love!
Describe you.
Just what stands out about you for me to commit?

Some say, you're appealing.
Some say, you're revealing.
Some say, you're attractive.
Others states, you're engaging.

Hey love!
Describe you.

Are you still that emotion that works upon us daily?

— The End —