"protected" poems
I loved you, at first,
more than anything.
Nothing else mattered,
If I could be by your side,
I would’ve protected you from a n y t h i n g.
The feeling of
your lips touching mine.
Cold and dull,
is it wrong that I still miss them?
Your eyes drifted to others,
never straying to mine,
never filled with the same spark.
Why won't you look at me?
You would say it,
those three words and I could only listen
as you say it to the others.
Not to me. Never to me.
They always got your love,
and warm smiles,
while you gave me your screams of
"You should be happy. Why aren't you happy?"
My orders:
never to be near you,
holding hands was forbidden,
we did not know each other, not publicly.
They would get the wrong idea.
“She's just a friend,” You would say.
Forcing me into a corner, chained,
As your collar (pleaseithurtsithurts) leaves me
b r e a t h l e s s.
It was all a game, wasn't it?
Of how fast I could love you (whatwasithinking),
of how much I could bleed (Goditwaseverywhere)
of how long before I couldn’t take it (saveme,please,anyone)
You were the king,
and I, your faithful pawn,
Just another piece on your board.
Your touches, never warm, never tender
What an artist you were,
Always defacing your canvas with your brushes,
Aren’t you talented?
Is this what love is?
Take it back, please,
I don't want this anymore.
I just wanna forget (getitoutgetitout).
“It’s okay, you don’t have to love me, no one ever does.”
May 14, 2018
May 14, 2018 at 11:59 AM UTC
For years my heart was guarded, protected from the world.
But somehow you have disarmed me, opened and unfurled.
You’ve taken me, broken and damaged, mishandled and hurled .
Yet you see me as delicate and dainty, so precious and pearled.
Everything’s not perfect but it sure is beautiful here.
Your smile so bright with a voice I just love to hear.
Your touch, so gentle I just want to have you near.
I love your energy and your presence, you make everyone else disappear.
He has captured my trust and that’s something not easily given.
He has made all my worries forgotten and all of my heartache is forgiven.
His mission was to win my heart and made his goal clear, he was driven.
After plenty of chances to earn my trust, I’d finally decided to give in.
I feel so loved, so valued, so cared for so protected.
He has won me over and I doubt I’ll ever regret it.
To a man who truly cares for me and satisfies my every need.
For you have saved me from my darkness, and my heart you have freed.
Jul 11, 2021
Jul 11, 2021 at 6:27 PM UTC
There's this mask I wear
The glue is so tight
Hiding me, hiding all
All you don't see, unless you get really near
That I'm not alright
My eyes are dark and deep enough for you to stand in
My wrists are ****** so are my thighs
My heart is shaky
And I've got non stop anxiety
But from far you see this mask
You hear my loud laugh
And see me hold my tummy in pain from giggling at my own joke
You swear I have recovered
When actually my late night tears help me keep the mask on
I may not look injured
Nor hollow
Or in pain
Just with this smile on my face
Of this mask that I wear
I hurt unheard and unseen,
Impatient for good days.
If my heart was transparent
A lot wouldn't be the same
Anyways, I'm already used to building these walls around my heart.
It's protected, I guess. From the outside world yet within me the storm never calms.
Tears wet these pillows
All night through sometimes wishing that morning must never come
Holding the grudge against myself
While smiling to all standing right in front of me.
Asking is this how life suppose to be.
Limping with anger yet holding the last thought of laughter
One hell of life we living.
You see...
This mask doesn't show things in 3D
That's why I love rainy days
Coz my tears are never recognized
Sadness engulf my soul while hoping that one day I will be able to remove the glue on this mask I wear.
Jul 10, 2015
Jul 10, 2015 at 9:11 AM UTC
*be ever gentle to thy words
treat them, your tools, well,
cleansing and protecting,
wrapping them in cloths of chamois and moleskin
that they may be well conditioned and
pour forth with a temperament clear and viscous,
reflecting their high honors and a noble lineage,
they are well-intentioned to exist far longer
than your meager temporal life,
upon this ever hasty, ever perpetual, orbit
give them all respect, their fair due,
they are treasure immeasurable,
for which you have been granted guardianship,
custody received from others to be gifted onwards,
yours, but for the duration
so oft we trifle words,
expel them from the country of our body,
without passport and earnestness,
as if they were the cheapest of footnote filler,
day tourists, to be treated as leavings,
refuse for daily discardation,
barely noting their fast comings and faster disappearance,
but leaving not, a mark of distinction
more truffle than trifle,
find them in the dark forest of your life,
use them sparingly, just for soaring,
take them from the roots of your trees,
shave them with a paring knife,
counts them in bites and measure them in grams,
even in grains,
for words are the seasoning of our lives,
agent provacateurs that can modify the moment,
bringing out to the fore
the flavor of the underlying
speak them slow and distinct,
for they arrive slow to you,
a trickling of refugees for your sheltering,
harbor them as full companions,
protected by natural law,
provision them well,
prepared and ever ready for a quick departure,
moor them at the embarcadero,
for the next restless leg of endlessness,
which they themselves will inform you
will last longer than eternity,
long after there are no humans to speak them*
Oct 10, 2015
Oct 10, 2015 at 6:01 PM UTC
I am BPD.
I am the demon that possesses your mind,
I am the ghost of all you want to leave behind.
I am the monster that will make you unstable,
The voice in your head making you suicidal.
I am your heart making your emotions intense,
I am your mind, muddled and making no sense.
I am your brain making you neurotic,
With the perfect balance of a handful of psychotic.
I am your self-esteem making you feel worthless,
I will make sure you feel that you have no purpose.
I am your impulsiveness making you act reckless;
Your need to harm yourself is becoming endless.
I am your soul feeling neglected,
You feel it very deeply because you need to be protected.
I am your extreme paranoia,
Making you live in a shell, I’m a merciless destroyer.
I am your fear of rejection, you will outburst at the slightest disaffection.
So, I am BPD and I will ruin your life,
I will cover you in scars made by the blade of a knife.
Jun 13, 2016
Jun 13, 2016 at 4:03 PM UTC
I took the left path where hydrangeas grew and sleepy primroses under woods, edged shady trees.
The empty stream ran quietly dry
With grass cuttings piling high.
If one peeped, one would find tiny creatures
To cast a sparkle here and there, a delight.
So on tip-toe, with sandels bent
Up high I reached to take
The plastic fairy as she twirled a pirouette
In a theatre made by chance.
Reflected in a silver mirror intwinned with ivy branch
A mottled foal tends his dreams and Chrismas robin chirps.
My brother took the right hand path where the trees grew fruit
Ripe berries from the gooseberry bush bulged their prickles.
Dangling from hawthorn now a cowboy with a hat
Looking for his fellow Indian with the yellow back sack.
Sheep gather in a hollow, dark, protected from the sun
And Mr toad, now lost of paint, has turned a bit glum.
And so we leave our woodland friends and travel up the slope
Winding round the rose bed and goldfish where they float.
Then up we climb, the middle route, to jump the pruned clipped
Hedge.
The lawn divided in two halves, a contemporary taste.
Now we're nearly at that place where if one was to turn
Could see down across the land
To the sea and sand.
Of all the beauties that I've known
Nothing beats this Island home.
Love Mary x
My grandfather’s retirement bungalow was in Totland Isle of Wight.
It was named Innisfail meaning ‘Isle of Ireland’.
Behind, the garden led down to magical and delightful to children who came as visitors. My grandfather would prepare this woodland with some suitable surprises.
The garden and woodland deserved its own name and in retrospect
Is now named ‘Innislandia’ to suggest a separate, mysterious land.
Beyond the real world.
In the poem A Country Lane on page 8 the latched gate is the back gate to my grandparent’s garden and bungalow in Totland as above.
Jun 23, 2018
Jun 23, 2018 at 7:57 AM UTC
Down in the bayou where the mangroves grow
There's talk of black voodoo, like Marie Leveau
The Swamp Witch, is legend, she has magic so black
That those who have seen her, have never come back
There;s tales of the noises that come from the dark
Of werewolves and zombies as rough as the bark
The mangroves are sentinels, to where the magic resides
Where even a longboat has no room to glide
Bodies go missing from the graveyards most nights
And there's always a fog shading the fireflies lights
The Swamp Witch is ruler and Queen of this world
Where souls are all taken and spines can be curled
They say that she came here from Canadian lands
She was a metis they say, from the Western Tar Sands
A mystic by nature, a dark witch by blood
She lives deep in the swamp, protected by gators and mud
The gators respect her, they do as she bids
They keep watch on the waters, they're her reptillian kids
She keeps zombies as gendarmes, collecting bodies to turn
Just how black is her magic, no one can discern
The Swamp Witch is legend, she is as old as all time
The air in the bayou is as thick as the slime
The cajuns say voodoo is the core of her heart
They avoid fishing where the mangrove trees start
The Swamp Witch, a legend ? or is she truly the Queen
She's the Louisiana Witch, no one survives once she's seen.....
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 11:33 PM UTC
my sheets are a noose
every night i swing
swing my life away
my pillow is an ocean
every night i drown
in my own tears and hopes
the pills
the people
the harsh sunlight
during the day
i am protected
i can smile without worry
the Monster is asleep
pretty pills protect princesses
but my terror grows
as the sun sinks low
the sky bright red
like the blood the Monster sheds
i wait until morning
before my eyes close
in my tears i drown
in my dreams i die
screams wake me
oh, those are mine
i'm sorry
didn't mean to wake you
no, i'm fine
just a nightmare
just a nightmare
The Monster eats pretty princesses when they close their eyes.
Feb 16, 2013
Feb 16, 2013 at 10:28 AM UTC
Driving up the highway
When I saw it in the mist
Like a pure and tender ******
Still waiting to be kissed
A village all forgotten
Somehow time had missed
You could see it from the highway
slightly hazy in the mist
Had time forgotten this poor place
Left in limbo for all days
Was it just a trick of light and sun
Manufactured through the haze
Were the folks here ****** to stay
Out of reach but in our gaze
Or were they truly here by choice
Living old, forgotten ways
Brigadoon did spring to mind
but, in truth I thought this good
Be something better than that curse
This village protected by the wood
I pulled on to the shoulder
And tried to see as best I could
This simple town or vision
That had not aged as it should
I saw no point of entry
No way to get there from my place
It was perfect, untouched, special
A village bathed in grace
Folks kept driving past me
Up the highway at such pace
They would never see this village
In the mist as fine as lace
The village may be magic
It may be something in between
In truth all I can tell you
What I saw, not what I mean
It's a village, plain and simple
in the woods, all shades of green
Un-kissed, and yet so perfect
stuck in stasis, in between
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 11:55 PM UTC
Bike basket full of blackberries
As I ride back
Bleeding fingers
Scraped wrists
Dark juice in the corners of my lips
It was beautiful how they clung to one another
How the protected each other
How they shared.their.thorns.
Was it wicked of me to have picked them?
Or should I have picked more?
Dark tears in the corners of my eyes
Torn thighs
Broken nails
As I ride back
Bike basket full of blackberries
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 6:25 PM UTC
A Good Man Died
A good man died and we say goodbye
On earth he touched so many lives
A guardian sent to protect and serve
Now with Angels wings, much deserved
A good man died and so we cry
Friends and family salute his life
A man of courage who protected all
He stood his ground when duty called
A good man died we ask not why
For we know he serves on the other side
With a heavy heart we bow our heads
We pay respect for the life he lived
A good man died and we say goodbye
On earth he touched so many lives
A guardian sent to protect and serve
Now with Angels wings, much deserved
A good man died
In Honor and Respect
For
Detective, Ron Price
1940-2013
Columbus Ohio Division of Police
Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 7:13 AM UTC
Growth prevaded by a soil of emotions, rain of memories engraving the seed for a flower awaiting to bloom, the gift of life in a moving motion of time, forming and structuring the inner beauty of one,
Over years the spring of this beauty blossoms depending on the deeds, deepest wishes such as kindness and intuitions majestically,
A righteous soul will truly stand proud in the sun, alike a helianthus,
A trecious persons flower will be dead, as if it was drought, burnt in the heat of summer, the sweet aroma of life will still fill the air,
Caught in endless change of a devils distorted, desperate working,
The servants have the chance to either change for the better or to be ruined in their transient existence, fading into the dust they came of,
Beauty cast in the heart remains forever with enough care and work,
So this flower shall never rot, as long as it is protected with a desire and will to do good, to be gentle and truthful, thoughtful and wise,
Compassion, greatness and deep loving concern are a fertilizer,
Spread this kindness and you may have planted the seed for another beautiful child of the earth; A precious flower
~ Umi
Mar 17, 2018
Mar 17, 2018 at 7:48 PM UTC
I want to be wanted.
I want to be worth wanting.
To be desired, sought after, prized.
I want to be protected.
Not shielded, but jealously kept.
Not abused either... Just held.
I want someone to love me.
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 7:37 PM UTC
He dreamed he was loved.
A love guarded fiercely, with passion.
A love that was not unconditional.
Not the blank slate love of a child
or an animal so programmed by instinct.
This love was willful and earned.
Having glimpsed an injured brilliance
beneath the flab and sweat and stench she weaned it to health.
Making it stronger, and brighter,
and more prominent with each passing day; until it erupted.
And he was transformed.
to embody that brilliance.
And she protected that embodiment.
Letting nothing call it to question.
She cared for him as he never could for himself.
She soothed and softened
and loved the deep furrow from his brow.
And her passion overwhelmed him.
And he wanted for nothing.
And when he opened his eyes
To **** and filth
with only the kiss of concrete
and the banter of horns
and obscenities
and footsteps.
******* FOOTSTEPS.
Heels pittering purposefully to mask exhausted uncertainty
Brogues, and wingtips clicking; with a cocky juvenile illusion of importance.
Boots plodding heavily under the weight of duty,
to build, and fix, and secure for the others.
And through a fog laid thick and throbbing
by poisons chased dutifully the night before;
he felt her fierce love for a fleeting moment
Guarding, and loving his shining brilliance
until it erupted from him;
With bile and blood, **** and regret
coldly rejected by his concrete companion.
And she was gone once again.
Aug 4, 2018
Aug 4, 2018 at 11:04 AM UTC
Lefty , I can't imagine how he got his name
Always did things backwards . . . so . . . . .
I was not surprised when he up and went away
Never said why , when , or where he had to go
Now he is growing old where as they say
"Only God Knows"
What are clouds anyway ?
Water vapor in the sky ?
I think it is so much more
I think they are recycled tears
Of every broken heart that ever be
Falling to a desert below
My cactus flower
Blooming in the night
So none will see
She keeps her love close
Protected by her needles
I sit and watch her bloom
And before the sun has begun
I leave looking for lefty
And the reasons I quit
Are the excuses I choose
Between the desert and the sea
Where the cause will be
Clouds keep winking at me
The circle is broken into pieces
I speak in deserts of sand
Drown in seas of lingering waves of pain
And I have no clue where lefty went
Only remember a cactus flower blooming
Without the thorns between the two
May 23, 2015
May 23, 2015 at 4:28 PM UTC
It seems I was
born with a flawed mind
and an inferior anatomy.
I was raised to be a daisy
soft and dainty
abandoned in the polar air to be
protected
by the starving dirt that
pins us to the earth.
Now I wait to be tossed fertilizer
…every once and a while.
In the meantime my innocent petals are plucked
and my stem grows grungy.
I watch horrified.
Flowers being ripped from their roots
purely out of admiration for their beauty
sacrificing the vibrant life that once painted its scales.
I am forced to grasp tightly onto soil
that will never be stable.
Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 9:44 PM UTC
I am not at fault.
I didn't do anything wrong.
Why am I being treated as though I did?
Stop it with the pity and the shame.
I am not ashamed. I don't need pity.
Especially not yours.
Life is messed up, but I am not.
One in five. one in five. ONE IN FIVE
One in five LGBTQ+ people have been mistreated because of their ****** orientation. It's not that hard to find these statistics. Look it up. Look up anything about LGBTQ+ people and I'm sure you'll find mistreatment.
I'm sure you'll find harm.
I'm sure you'll find that they harm themselves.
Because they feel at fault.
It's not their fault that they feel a common emotion towards another person you, selfish, close-minded..
mmm.
No.
Four in five. four in five. FOUR IN FIVE
Don't talk about it.
The way they were mistreated.
If you don't really get that
If you can't really fathom that
Almost all of them
Almost every single one of these people that have been mistreated don't even talk about it they don't reach out they don't tell
anyone
NEARLY HALF
of LGBTQ+ people in school are bullied
Are mistreated
Are hurt
Are mocked
Are called names
***
******
***
In school.
Yeah, bullying happens all the time over stupid **** All the time. Wearing glasses, looking different, being gay.
I get it.
It happens.
Whatever.
Nearly half.
"72 countries criminalise same-sex relationships ...
The death penalty is either ‘allowed’, or evidence of its existence occurs, in 8 countries
In more than half the world, LGBT people may not be protected from discrimination by workplace law
Most governments deny trans people the right to legally change their name and gender from those that were assigned to them at birth
Between 2008 and 2014, there were 1,612 trans people were murdered across 62 countries - equivalent to a killing every two days
A quarter of the world’s population believes that being LGBT should be a crime"
Oh hey, just some statistics. Isn't that interesting. Isn't it cool to take a step back and check that out. That's pretty crazy huh? Pretty outrageous. But, you know, maybe if you weren't such a
***
I did nothing
wrong.
I tried to stop it.
I tried.
But how can you stop
Doing
What
Is
Natural.
People are hurting
People are dying
People are being killed
People are killing themselves
Stop it with the pity and the shame.
We are not to blame.
Mar 13, 2018
Mar 13, 2018 at 2:06 PM UTC
Netted on the outside
Dreams pass through the inside.
The good dreams seep the center,
The bad dreams are caught: DO NOT ENTER!
The sleeper with eyes shut,
Protected by the dreamcatcher
And selected by the buy-snatcher,
Slumbers in peace
When all is at ease
Around the dreamcatcher police.
Reality is still
But the mind is awake
And sleep is at stake.
Eyes cannot detect
What the dreamcatcher does,
It only sways in the midst of a glance.
But the dreams that pass the glass dividing atmospheric gas
Cannot be seen, touched, heard.
Dreamcatchers have a radar
That no being does.
The dreams charge at once!
WOOOOSH.
Not a dream is heard
Caught in the dreamcatcher grid,
But the good ones
Keep clean the REM zones.
Native-American tradition
I will surely petition.
May 30, 2018
May 30, 2018 at 10:06 PM UTC
******
A word I have heard a thousand times
A thousand different ways
But has always sounded the same,
Like ignorance
A word that has never left me feeling worthless
Or unloved
Just misunderstood
Even when followed by being thrown into the bathroom stall of a Girl's gym locker room
Or by the few friends I had left helping me clean up my battered face and the hide the bruises
I have always been proud of the term ****** because even though it was said to be offensive
I was being acknowledged as me
But when the word was spilled by the woman who once rocked me to sleep till I was no longer scared
The woman who has always protected me
It was then that all the pain I ever should have felt
Took a hold of my heart and ran it up to my throat until the pain leaked from my eyes
I was angry
I was sad
And I was scared
Because I knew that word was always followed by violence
And I didn't think that I would be able to walk with my head held high from this one
My face turned red and my blood turned cold and I watched my father defend me
Finally I stopped him and I looked at her
And I said yes, but I'm your ******
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 1:12 PM UTC
I Am The Sunshine
Upon This Land
I Am The Pure Love
Of Woman & Man
Creatures Of Sea
Creature Of Sand
Creatures Obove Trees
I Am Sunshine
Im Feeling The Heat
I Am Sunshine
Love Shining In Me
Through My Eyes
Timeless Sweets
I Am Purity
Healing All That Need
A Calling Of Leap
The Falling Of Leaves
That Tracends To Beauty When
Waters Affection Harvest The Neat
Harvest The Trees
Harvest The Fruits & Vegetables
For All Us To Eat
God Were Sunshine
I Am You & You Are Me
Realms Of Angels
Elves Mermaid Reefs
Purity
Illumniated With A Sphere In Me
Its Clear To See
I'm Near The Sea
Abundance Prosperity
Inside Manifested Through Charity
Expand Consious Clairty
Increase Awarness
Perception Cherry Trees
Beautiful Judgment Free
Free To Be We So Let's Just Breathe
I Love You , You Love Me
Meditation Vibratatin At The Peak Of My Frequency
Elvish Whispers In The Breeze
Angels Untangle The Tangled
I Angle Dreams
The Frequency Of Jesus
Is Needed
Let It Seep Through
You May Not See Him
But He Sees You
Bianry Ritual 3 Help Darknes Nailed
I'm From An Elvish Realm
Where Fairy's Bleed Blue
Its Easy To Relate
Escape The Hate With Aatral Gates
Be True
Be You Sunshine Light Bright
Right Through Ooh
I Feel It In My Soul
From Outer Space
Down My Face Waist & Shoes
Normal Is So Distant
Weird Is JDifferent
& Difrent Is Just So Cool
Sune Shine Amazon Fine
Island Side
Frequency High
Twin Soul Flame Is Feeling My Vibe
Pure Dear Come Here
Feel The Kundalini Rise
Eye To Eye
Hands On Back Of Thighs
Hearts Hugging So Tight
Protected By The Eye
Private Meeting Souls Singing Ocean Side
Stars Cry Body's Weaving Greeting
Gentle Screaming Oh My
Dna Embedded With Electric Healing Rhymes
Were Amazing Gazeing Sunshine
Breathe Release The Beast
No Need To Find
All Is Within So Grin Ya Chin
Your In Ya Win
Sunshine Sunshine Fill My Fins
Swimming Through
Realms Of Elevish Kin
Affection Covers My Skin
I Am Sunshine
Sing It Again
Sunshine
May 27, 2016
May 27, 2016 at 11:54 PM UTC
the double-glaze and blackout curtains shield me
from the world's uncertainty.
the panes of glass so sure not to allow its overside to retreat and
seep its liquid coldness to reach me. it's neither
cold nor warm at the touch, unlike me.
i am protected by the double gaze and blackout curtains but
some force that differs from the one that is currently causing
the tree outside sway dangerously close to my perch is
causing my mind and body to be insulated
by a layer of ice.
goosebumps prickle and my arm and leg stubble
raise themselves.
but my mind does not provide for itself thermoregulatory
reflexes, i
must withstand the shiver of my memories.
May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 2:17 PM UTC
Entry ~
I know you're scared. You should be scared. You're taking a huge leap of faith leaving the only "home" you've ever known. But that home you built isn't four walls, and a solid tin roof. It's your soul. It's that thumping in your chest that keeps you awake at 2am. It's the memories you've stored, locked away tight behind steel bars, because god only knows if those bars weren't there those memories would hit you like the eye of a storm. Calm at first, sweet, but then painful, like shards of glass beneath your feet. And I know how much it hurts to leave. To walk away from so many unresolved things. To remove yourself from the lives of people you rely on, that rely on you. But part of living is knowing when to leave. It's knowing when your environment no longer suits the shell you're in. It's easy to tell when that chapter of your life begins. It starts with a slow depression easing its way in, and an unexplained restlessness. I know how much you fight it. The warning signs telling you it's time to go again. You are so afraid of being free, but your curiosity has its own needs. It was never a choice being free. It's always been a part of your destiny. I know you've felt that unexplainable presence easing your anxiety. And it's okay to breathe. It's okay to just be. To not know where you're going to be next spring. It's all a part of the plan. You need to have faith that those guiding you won't lead you astray. You are being protected, and I know you aren't religious, but when you feel like you've lost your way, fall to your knees, and pray. Look for the butterfly, and have faith that one small act of courageousness will set your life in motion. But you have to be willing to take action first. So flap your wings, and don't be afraid of the tornado that follows. You created your fear, and only you can survive in the wake of it.*
Sep 8, 2017
Sep 8, 2017 at 2:14 PM UTC
Love be not selfish
Love be not jealous
Love be not envious
Love be not rude
Love be not idle
Love be an emotion
Love be faithful
Love be forgiving
Love be a want
Love be a hope
Love be a need
Love be joy
Love be selfless
Love be true
Love be kind
Love be patient
Love be righteous
Love be respectful
Love be trusting
Love be a home filled with children's laughter.
Love is greeting a stranger with a sincere smile.
Love is treating others with care, taking a small moment in all our activities to consider the next person.
Looking at our world, if love was a species, surely it it would be a protected species.
So
Is love still alive ?
I'm sure yes
God created us in his image
God is love
So
Love was Our species (the human)
Love should be me
Love should be you
Love should be a nation
Love should be our race
What have we become?
Nov 25, 2017
Nov 25, 2017 at 12:55 AM UTC
The sharp line separating where the sun met your skin
And where it was protected by your shirt is more prominent than ever
Because you forgot to lather on your sunscreen.
The dirt settles into a thin film
Covering every inch of your body
Caking into your hair making it feel
Like you haven't washed your hair for days.
The bugs are constantly buzzing around your face
Leaving bites up and down your arms
Making them itchy and irritated.
But, the sunburns, dirt filled clothes, and bugs
Only strengthens my love for the game.
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 3:36 PM UTC
“Why do you love me?” he heard her whisper in the night. He closed his eyes, a tear forming sure to stain his pillow.
*I love you because I do. I love you because the Universe showed me the way to you. I love you because my heart beats your name, my mind drowns in your eyes, my soul feels yours even when we are miles apart.
I love you because I have no choice. I didn’t ask to love you. I didn’t need to love you, but I love you just the same. My arms aren’t filled unless you’re in them, and my thirst is not quenched unless you are the drink.
I love you because I feel comfort in being out of my comfort zone with you by my side. I love you because every cell of my body responds to your touch, to your look, to the way you move and the way you sound. I love you because something, somewhere, directed me to you. It was my soul, and you are its mate.
Through the paths we have taken to one another I have loved you. I’ve played in comfortable places among comfortable people until I had no choice but to leave there to come to you here. I battled the gods themselves and faced the raging storms of hell until, one day, the clouds parted and your eyes met mine. I waited, impatiently, for you until that shock from my heart announced your arrival.
I know you are scared, my sweet Angel. I know you feel the pangs of fear and the dread of a journey of which no arrival is guaranteed. But I promise you this. When the demons come I will stand strong with you at my back and you will be protected. When the brimstone comes raining from the sky I will shield you until each storm passes. When the swine and malcontent arrive, I will fight them, and when the battles are over and the storm clouds are gone I will hold your face, look into your eyes, and you will know why I love you.*
Gyandeva
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 1:09 PM UTC