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"unobtainable" poems
crooked steps just a seconds glimpse behind perfect trail before me, each step a gift Then in the distance I  caught sight of something I saw you kiss the lips of the sinking Sun locked embrace and O' how completely I struggled that entire night and O' how the next and the next and then the  next I tasted betrayal O' how vivid I I relived the scene in visions, questioning my eyes, wondering your motives I focused, I tried more and more O' I dug deep, i closed the miles,, then much closer I witnessed then, you whispering to the sky then you reached up your hands upon the full moon's face Pulling her down from heaven,  to your promises as you smiled to deny us, O' I obsessed You.... Kissing the sun, Promising the moon, As I watched O' I glared O' as did I wilt I withdraw to obscurity Beneath cover of your growing shadow a silouhette to follow making chase of the impossible I can't give up all i do is follow, and look , and press on , just to get close enough To tell you You are still my sun, Though you have another and you are my setting moon, my unobtainable,... and my reasoning for every step, every mile...   Now besought by the breadth The severity of those betrayals I hope you knew, i followed and still do coming to apprehend my little tease, my treasure, my liar I give chase, to how completely how very far I would go just to prove once and for all I love you. I shall, one day... If and when the stars let me they decide... Even they see plainly my envy As I have no mask One motive, Several unknown labels. I contrast the brilliant Silk strewn beauty once mine Falling once, am I choosing Leg by foot, by will and love Outshine the sun and by this Luna will turn it's attention Perhaps this test of time Practiced, lonesome patience May one day return the gaze Embrace in arms my desire The only one I want and follow My world.
0
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 8:01 PM UTC
You kiss the sun, promise the moon
crooked steps just a seconds glimpse behind perfect trail before me, each step a gift Then in the distance I  caught sight of something I saw you kiss the lips of the sinking Sun locked embrace and O' how completely I struggled that entire night and O' how the next and the next and then the  next I tasted betrayal O' how vivid I I relived the scene in visions, questioning my eyes, wondering your motives I focused, I tried more and more O' I dug deep, i closed the miles,, then much closer I witnessed then, you whispering to the sky then you reached up your hands upon the full moon's face Pulling her down from heaven,  to your promises as you smiled to deny us, O' I obsessed You.... Kissing the sun, Promising the moon, As I watched O' I glared O' as did I wilt I withdraw to obscurity Beneath cover of your growing shadow a silouhette to follow making chase of the impossible I can't give up all i do is follow, and look , and press on , just to get close enough To tell you You are still my sun, Though you have another and you are my setting moon, my unobtainable,... and my reasoning for every step, every mile...   Now besought by the breadth The severity of those betrayals I hope you knew, i followed and still do coming to apprehend my little tease, my treasure, my liar I give chase, to how completely how very far I would go just to prove once and for all I love you. I shall, one day... If and when the stars let me they decide... Even they see plainly my envy As I have no mask One motive, Several unknown labels. I contrast the brilliant Silk strewn beauty once mine Falling once, am I choosing Leg by foot, by will and love Outshine the sun and by this Luna will turn it's attention Perhaps this test of time Practiced, lonesome patience May one day return the gaze Embrace in arms my desire The only one I want and follow My world.
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74
i am so much more than they told me i was Yes, I am. more than the haters more than the lovers i am more than a queen of beauty i am your unobtainable i am your ruined dream i am a deity far out of reach and you do not deserve me
0
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 1:30 PM UTC
Untitled
Photoshopped fantasy fictions Misogynistic oppressive depictions Unobtainable beauty Fake imagery This LIE is but violence and bigotry
0
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 10:38 PM UTC
Miss Conception
are you generally happy? a semi-innocuous query now actualized as a two sided bladed poker, hot stabbing me smack dab in the chests hollow crown bullseye, continuously,  as in all life long, and eternal longing for a “yes” it fits inside a pubescent aged wound that refreshes with every breath; a life long struggle for an accurate definition, be a general of genuine happy, that alone would deliver, bringing on bright day satisfaction as a human, one operates on parallel continuums; slide slipping on well oiled poles that over the years, their lengths, increasing with add-on extender poles formed by twisty turny slips and falls of sundered hearts and sad loves, marriages nicknamed Titanic, children found and lost, complications responsibilities that are denied meeting the words     “The End” a life that many would envy, questioning what’s wrong with you dude, are you blinded to the riches yours, reality is shoulders permanently bent, a spine that’s held together by spit and solder and curved by wearying wearing longing for a straightness that is also called crooked unobtainable and a piece of a peace that comes and goes like a highway billboard that you pass too fast to be fully read the body is corroding and worser yet to come and that’s a hand you selected - luck of the self-selecting-drawing - the opioids of the mind offers are rejected the clarity of painful self exploration valued overall - the place where the poems come from, and go to die, a landscape of a scene repeatedly visualized but never been and never left, the crazy contradictions come in two flavors; vanilla smiles and chocolate weeping of tears that have etched pathways cheek-chiseled the city is a struggling strife for most, the next red line on the side of the measuring cup  and everyone has a cell, a credit card, and a measuring cup <•> here I stop can’t finish   someone missing alerts me to their real worlds troubles making my complaints super superficial but the silent running of the stilleto cuts shallow repeated hourly the cut color, pitch black
0
May 26, 2018
May 26, 2018 at 2:05 PM UTC
are you generally happy?
are you generally happy? a semi-innocuous query now actualized as a two sided bladed poker, hot stabbing me smack dab in the chests hollow crown bullseye, continuously,  as in all life long, and eternal longing for a “yes” it fits inside a pubescent aged wound that refreshes with every breath; a life long struggle for an accurate definition, be a general of genuine happy, that alone would deliver, bringing on bright day satisfaction as a human, one operates on parallel continuums; slide slipping on well oiled poles that over the years, their lengths, increasing with add-on extender poles formed by twisty turny slips and falls of sundered hearts and sad loves, marriages nicknamed Titanic, children found and lost, complications responsibilities that are denied meeting the words     “The End” a life that many would envy, questioning what’s wrong with you dude, are you blinded to the riches yours, reality is shoulders permanently bent, a spine that’s held together by spit and solder and curved by wearying wearing longing for a straightness that is also called crooked unobtainable and a piece of a peace that comes and goes like a highway billboard that you pass too fast to be fully read the body is corroding and worser yet to come and that’s a hand you selected - luck of the self-selecting-drawing - the opioids of the mind offers are rejected the clarity of painful self exploration valued overall - the place where the poems come from, and go to die, a landscape of a scene repeatedly visualized but never been and never left, the crazy contradictions come in two flavors; vanilla smiles and chocolate weeping of tears that have etched pathways cheek-chiseled the city is a struggling strife for most, the next red line on the side of the measuring cup  and everyone has a cell, a credit card, and a measuring cup <•> here I stop can’t finish   someone missing alerts me to their real worlds troubles making my complaints super superficial but the silent running of the stilleto cuts shallow repeated hourly the cut color, pitch black
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54
Gemini's are known to dabble in arts of all kind; Well-cultured, well-versed and rehearsed in both rhythm and rhyme. From music to magic and everything in between; Learning lessons as they unfold with the change of each scene. We cannot be contained within wires nor hidden behind screens. Energy is everywhere; We choose our frequencies. Disconnect from electricity and experience the ever-natural waves. Break harmful traditions of doubt and unobtainable change. We are not alone. This life has no range.
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Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 9:21 PM UTC
The Gemini Arts: Mastering the Complex Mind
My daydreams of you are that of daybreak cotton skies, fleeting and unobtainable, yet breathtakingly vivid. It's as though heavenly harps, singing their crimson morning light, have your name floating among them, basking in the wine-stained clouds above.
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Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 3:03 PM UTC
Daydream
You won't remember me tomorrow, And if you do it will be as her roommate. What a bitter pill to swallow When you realize that your life has no meaning. I won't be remembered in the morning, I won't be missed when I go home To write words that climb so slowly up my throat That I may ***** (though that might be ***** No one will care that I left early. No one will care if I disappear Right at this very instant. I am not beautiful and I never will be. I am not intelligent and though I strive to be, I know that is unobtainable. I am not outgoing I am not social I am not interesting But what I am is sitting in the dark and quiet. My tears are triple filtered. Why can't I mean anything to anyone?
0
Jun 25, 2010
Jun 25, 2010 at 10:12 PM UTC
Insecurities
I am your side chick Our love was burning like a candle wick You were so unavailable Your heart was unobtainable I am your side chick So just go take your pick You make me feel so good But you'd choose her if you could I am your side chick But I realized you're a **** I thought you were the love of my life But our love only consisted of strife
0
Jun 12, 2017
Jun 12, 2017 at 3:33 PM UTC
I am your side chick
How can I write about motionless, unfeeling, empty white walls? You write about your unchanging, cold, blank mind How can I write about slammed, unrelenting, locked white doors? You write about your crushing, unobtainable, closed-off heart How can I write about falling, unstoppable, restricting white ceilings? You write about your deadly, unfair, judging mouth How can I write about a room that doesn't hold me? You write about your past
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Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 4:21 AM UTC
White walls
at the first sight of you, my eyes did lie such a vision aptly defined by a priceless, timeless, true original work of fine art but unobtainable with one simple question you enslaved my attention instant gratification was my only compulsion led to no insinuation just an invitation fueled by a connection forced us in the direction that led to a culmination that never came to fruition ....but... no real violations to either one's restrictions you stuck to convictions no need for contritions taking considerations realized complications to us as additions for any continuations or further desicrations on sacred institutions ...and...
0
Feb 7, 2016
Feb 7, 2016 at 11:05 AM UTC
at first sight part one
Like a siren; alluring. Like a campfire; warming. Like an addiction; captivating. Like the sun; lustrous. She was all of these things upon sight. Like a good book; intriguing. Like an idea; different. Like the breeze; refreshing. Like inspiration; reassuring. She was all of these things upon conversation. Like a dream; distant. Like music; intangible. Like an illusion; comforting. Like the moon; unobtainable. She was all of these things upon waking. Like all of these things; Her.
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Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 3:58 PM UTC
Her.
Let's back pace, erase my face from your memory I will leave and make you believe my new identity Level-headedness was never in the job description Pushing away this world like it's a bad addiction I have a love unending Transcending space and time Living in the world I create deep within my rhyme And I stand 'till I choose to sit And I will sit for now Wiping inkblots off my page as if sweat from my brow Let's back pace, erase my face from your memory I will leave and make you believe my new identity Level-headedness was never in the job description Pushing away this world like it's a bad addiction She was and still is the girl The girl who was unobtainable Yet my body stays restrainable as I sit here scribbling Tossing her hair over her shoulder I stick to my seat as if atop me's a boulder And I try to convince myself that I'm too busy Let's back pace, erase my face from your memory I will leave and make you believe my new identity Level-headedness was never in the job description Pushing away this world like it's a bad addiction I am a boy who doesn't take chances While the words dance in my brain And I write of love and true romance and live them on the page So my **** has finally decided to not partake in the occasion And stay seated so I'm not defeated to prevent sorrow's invasion Let's back pace, erase my face from your memory I will leave and make you believe my new identity Level-headedness was never in the job description Pushing away this world like it's a bad addiction My brain and heart battle for control Of shifting feet and lover's soul And what stands as inconceivable is why I'm so lost A chance is a chance and that is all they are And I need not travel very far Not trying is still losing and standing and sitting both have their cost Let's back pace, erase my face from your memory I will leave and make you believe my new identity Level-headedness was never in the job description Pushing away this world like it's a bad addiction                                                                                         Heaven's eyes lie through ruby curls She meets my glance and smiles at me While I stew with ink-stained fingers here in purgatory Stand up, **** it! Just stand up! My heart and head reach a conclusion Pages only go so far and the safety of sitting an illusion Let's back pace, erase my face from your memory I will leave and make you believe my new identity Level-headedness was never in the job description Pushing away this world like it's a bad addiction I stand up and find, to my surprise, My legs choosing to support Dropping pen and picking up the ball that's in my court And I walk up to the girl who plagues my dreams As if her very being, to me, beckons and calls Only to hear the world laughing at me as I slip, trip, and fall And hell is all to real to the boy who occupied purgatory With tear-filled eyes from looking to heaven With ****** nose caused from leaving his seat Seeing my chance flutter away as I run out of the room Indented in the red haired girl's eyes as a simple buffoon Let's back pace, erase my face from your memory I will leave and make you believe my new identity Coming back another day to claim my love once more And being ever so careful to make sure my face meets yours, not the floor
0
Jun 4, 2013
Jun 4, 2013 at 11:33 AM UTC
A Cause For Reevaluation
Let's back pace, erase my face from your memory I will leave and make you believe my new identity Level-headedness was never in the job description Pushing away this world like it's a bad addiction I have a love unending Transcending space and time Living in the world I create deep within my rhyme And I stand 'till I choose to sit And I will sit for now Wiping inkblots off my page as if sweat from my brow Let's back pace, erase my face from your memory I will leave and make you believe my new identity Level-headedness was never in the job description Pushing away this world like it's a bad addiction She was and still is the girl The girl who was unobtainable Yet my body stays restrainable as I sit here scribbling Tossing her hair over her shoulder I stick to my seat as if atop me's a boulder And I try to convince myself that I'm too busy Let's back pace, erase my face from your memory I will leave and make you believe my new identity Level-headedness was never in the job description Pushing away this world like it's a bad addiction I am a boy who doesn't take chances While the words dance in my brain And I write of love and true romance and live them on the page So my **** has finally decided to not partake in the occasion And stay seated so I'm not defeated to prevent sorrow's invasion Let's back pace, erase my face from your memory I will leave and make you believe my new identity Level-headedness was never in the job description Pushing away this world like it's a bad addiction My brain and heart battle for control Of shifting feet and lover's soul And what stands as inconceivable is why I'm so lost A chance is a chance and that is all they are And I need not travel very far Not trying is still losing and standing and sitting both have their cost Let's back pace, erase my face from your memory I will leave and make you believe my new identity Level-headedness was never in the job description Pushing away this world like it's a bad addiction                                                                                         Heaven's eyes lie through ruby curls She meets my glance and smiles at me While I stew with ink-stained fingers here in purgatory Stand up, **** it! Just stand up! My heart and head reach a conclusion Pages only go so far and the safety of sitting an illusion Let's back pace, erase my face from your memory I will leave and make you believe my new identity Level-headedness was never in the job description Pushing away this world like it's a bad addiction I stand up and find, to my surprise, My legs choosing to support Dropping pen and picking up the ball that's in my court And I walk up to the girl who plagues my dreams As if her very being, to me, beckons and calls Only to hear the world laughing at me as I slip, trip, and fall And hell is all to real to the boy who occupied purgatory With tear-filled eyes from looking to heaven With ****** nose caused from leaving his seat Seeing my chance flutter away as I run out of the room Indented in the red haired girl's eyes as a simple buffoon Let's back pace, erase my face from your memory I will leave and make you believe my new identity Coming back another day to claim my love once more And being ever so careful to make sure my face meets yours, not the floor
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67
I untie my hair from its knot, I just want to be set free. Place my bare feet on the earth, and allow it to heal me. I could not stand by anymore, stolen sentiments in fist. Waiting for a sign from him, wondering what I've missed. Long hair flowing in the breeze, I now turn my face to the sky. Wind reminds me as tears fall, that it does no good to cry. So instead I dance to feel the universe, for joy to fill me once more. Wild and unobtainable, I've felt this pain before. Gypsy souls are meant to wander, forever too be free. My heart is struggling just to find, why he means so much to me.
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Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 9:59 PM UTC
Gypsy Heartache
Like a flame igniting an old engine A frisk of energy sparked Turning my rusty, frozen gears And restoring my memories of you. In a hidden corridor in time - A dimension since locked away We two share an instant - An unobtainable, infinite moment. Like a fog creeping in on my soul - An ironic, melancholy nostalgia; I dream of sunlight on canopy roads In a place I once called home. Trapped in a reality without you We've since broken our promise, Extinguishing the embers We swore to smolder forever. This life is a sort of purgatory - A spiritual test and journey; A short waiting period before We again walk hidden corridors.
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Nov 17, 2018
Nov 17, 2018 at 12:39 AM UTC
Tallahassee Hidden Corridors
I am only pretty when I'm naked. I did not give you permission to **** me inside of your head. Please get your imaginative hands off of my unobtainable soul, and close your mouth, you're drooling like a coward when he sees something that he cannot have. I belong to no one but myself. I am old enough to know the rights of my body. I am only pretty when I'm naked. Stop recording every moment we will never have with your undistracted eyes. I did not ask for this, I am covered in clothes that do not accent the curvature of my frame and yet still you gawk, and I will be asked what I was wearing that night. I was wearing my right to say no, but to him I was wearing my inferiority. I am only pretty when I'm naked. I am a female powerhouse. I am competent with my tongue in many ways yet you ache to abuse it. I am inclined to tell you what is best for me, but I am a woman. And I know nothing. You will beat it into me until I actually know something so well that I choke on it. I am only pretty when I'm naked. I am incapable of loving because, to you, I am not justified, so you will show me how until I cannot breathe any longer. The bruises and scars will taint my porcelain skin like mud on brand new sneakers, except the black, blue, and crimson cannot be rinsed from my body as easily as my clothes were removed by you. I am only pretty when I'm dead.
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Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 1:23 AM UTC
Dressed With Inferiority
The tuba player in a park walking, shouting through an amplified medium of open air. You are the park, I am the tuba. Who is the author? I ask this not to pander or to interest you, but because I honestly do not know. Why are there so many questions asked these days without the realization that the answer is unobtainable. Why do we think that by putting a curved line over a period we’ll find the truth. I am tired of asking and expecting a reply? I am tired of telling others what I want to hear back “that’s what everybody wants.” If that’s what you want so much, then stop going to malls. Stop pumping fossilized plant life into your gas tank. Stop buying new clothes and cell phones and computers. Stop telling your parents you love them just because they’re the easy ones to love. If god so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son, then who's our ******* father?
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May 22, 2012
May 22, 2012 at 5:11 PM UTC
Tuba Park
There's so many drugs out there, **** Crystal, Coke, ****** Shrooms, Acid . . . And many more. I ended up choosing the worst. Y o u. There's no rehab for you, There's no withdrawal from you. You're an exact drug. I tell people I'm not thinking about you, But I am . I tell people I don't miss you, But I do . I tell people I don't need you, Oh but I do. You make me feel the best high when I'm around, Happiness like no other. You set off dopamine in my brain, You make it sky rocket. I'm so addicted. You're worst than a drug. You talk, walk, feel, react, think; You're a person. And I can't go to my nearest dealer to get you. You're unobtainable, And like an addict to me you're irreplaceable. I wish you were any other drug, So I could get you quickly and be satisfied. But you're a person, I can't have you as I please. So please don't haunt me anymore, Because I'm an addict and you're all I need.
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Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 3:11 AM UTC
Drugs .
Anger, discontent are like a house after work some place where you wrap yourself in a security blanket of irritability hungry for touch but misanthropic can't taste lust but for the One Unobtainable can't help her can't detach only recourse, lash out Anger is like a house
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Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 1:54 PM UTC
the One Unobtainable
Bisexual girl, confused by so much but understands self misguided in youth, no idea what to do forced into a life blurred by own life choices, happy but never fully always seeing what is desired smiles at her daily             unobtainable. Why? Will change for others but not self something is wrong there. Needs change but bored easy; Fill the void with drugs that make you calm make you happy,                                 love. The emotions of our lives.     Okay.    I’m okay with everything that becomes myself.       Relax and go for a climb to the Sun, and when the Sun sets in Thoreau’s west, climb to the Stars, make a wish and seal it with an unique kiss. I can sense your aura before I see your flesh, radiant colors as you approach, keep an open mind. Leave me to my solitude but don’t forget me there, introvert that needs to be surrounded by people: what a contradiction. Interaction: essential to all. Being alive Being outside Being energetic Being weird Being okay Being a Human Being but always,     Always    Being     Self.
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Apr 1, 2012
Apr 1, 2012 at 12:18 PM UTC
Being Self
How many sad souls and suicides is it going to take for society to realize that theyre setting such high unobtainable standards?
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Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 10:24 PM UTC
?
Negativity is not always overtly depressive, Positivity is not always overtly happy. Negativity eats away, piece by piece. It hides in the banal. Its disguised by layers of colour, Noise, applause. Negativity is drip fed, unnoticed. The bland The ordinary The acceptable Even the comfortable. Negativity keeps you in your place, Convinces you How good you’ve got it, Fosters no hope, Breeds joy in superficiality. Negativity is not a natural state of mind. No one wants it, yet Its continually perpetuated by those Who are blind to it. Negativity tells you that Positivity is frivolous and childish, Happy-clappy psycho-babble, Is an immense effort, an uphill struggle, A dream, stupid, deluded, unobtainable… Well, it would, wouldn’t it? Its Negative. Negativity sets you unattainable goals, Holds up a false mirror, Tells you that you need to be What you can’t be… But still you ache, drive, strive To get there, Concentrating all energy on it, To the detriment of all else.
0
Jul 21, 2020
Jul 21, 2020 at 1:42 PM UTC
Insidious
Hurtling across the horizon inside the belly of a great ribbed silver beast, barreling singlemindedly down its prearranged tracks at speeds previously unobtainable my mere mortal men. Modern marvels of man-made comfort surround us daily. So that we can exist without need of fear or worry from our environment. Our fight or flight responses are being systematically removed, slowly, generation by generation. Our dominance of the material world and the animal kingdom is destroying the world as we knew it. This world of ours that we now reside within is entirely foreign to what existed before us. We are the aliens of our own futures.
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Jul 22, 2013
Jul 22, 2013 at 8:55 PM UTC
Silver Beasts
Aligning every thought, you not coming across leaving me the most impatient. I may be someone to you. **** the though, linger on dear. Silky shadows of you rest in my soul. Aware of my every thought, you smile. My unimaginable, inconsiderable, unpreventable state of mind may look at you. Come on in and gently place your flowers on the ground. With your unobtainable feeling, ideas wisp out. The delicacy of this proven fact is unknown Someday I may miss you. Come and collect every whispering thought of this world. As your docility frolics throughout my bones, you know exactly what to do. You came over, oddly real. And from then on turned into something beautiful. My sensitivity collapses. Align everything in a lovely way.
0
Sep 25, 2011
Sep 25, 2011 at 5:16 PM UTC
Align.
I love the way that you can still always manage to write perfect circles around me. My words feel so small. Insignificant. When I want to write you back. Falling short out of my lips. Hanging disappointingly in the air. Maybe this time will be different. Maybe if I shout it like I want to. Maybe if I make a declaration- my words can stand next to yours. I feel the same way. I want your answers. I want your intimate details. I want to trace your skin over, and over. I want to feel the curve of your spine and the curve of your lips and your fingers as they curve around mine. I want to savor the feeling of words pressed against you. Hot, lost, unobtainable desire. My greatest vice is not ink on paper. It's the canvass of your soul and skin. That's what I've always loved about you. Poetry in motion. Definitely a unique love. It is not like loving a poet. It's loving: living, breathing, words. It's knowing them by heart. The way you dance through vibrations cast in the air. The way I know that you are a poem all yourself. The closest thing to religion I've ever felt. Reading you- cover to cover. Discovering your words. Maybe that's the most disappointing part. I'm lying. I haven't read you cover to cover. I know I barely got past the introduction. There's something deeper within you that I crave to know. Desperately. Something that I'm afraid I'll never know. The best thing I've ever read. Left unfinished. I guess I don't deserve to know something so wonderful. Maybe that's the limitations of an earthly body. Where I don't get to know you because I was lost- a victim of distance and a slave to circumstance. Taken by life. Taken by being busy. Taken away without really understanding why. I'd give anything to sit down intimately with you and devote all of my time savoring all of your words, counting all your pages, loving each one, until I could close the spine, only to turn you over, and start all over again.
0
May 14, 2017
May 14, 2017 at 10:19 PM UTC
Declarations 1: Loss
I love the way that you can still always manage to write perfect circles around me. My words feel so small. Insignificant. When I want to write you back. Falling short out of my lips. Hanging disappointingly in the air. Maybe this time will be different. Maybe if I shout it like I want to. Maybe if I make a declaration- my words can stand next to yours. I feel the same way. I want your answers. I want your intimate details. I want to trace your skin over, and over. I want to feel the curve of your spine and the curve of your lips and your fingers as they curve around mine. I want to savor the feeling of words pressed against you. Hot, lost, unobtainable desire. My greatest vice is not ink on paper. It's the canvass of your soul and skin. That's what I've always loved about you. Poetry in motion. Definitely a unique love. It is not like loving a poet. It's loving: living, breathing, words. It's knowing them by heart. The way you dance through vibrations cast in the air. The way I know that you are a poem all yourself. The closest thing to religion I've ever felt. Reading you- cover to cover. Discovering your words. Maybe that's the most disappointing part. I'm lying. I haven't read you cover to cover. I know I barely got past the introduction. There's something deeper within you that I crave to know. Desperately. Something that I'm afraid I'll never know. The best thing I've ever read. Left unfinished. I guess I don't deserve to know something so wonderful. Maybe that's the limitations of an earthly body. Where I don't get to know you because I was lost- a victim of distance and a slave to circumstance. Taken by life. Taken by being busy. Taken away without really understanding why. I'd give anything to sit down intimately with you and devote all of my time savoring all of your words, counting all your pages, loving each one, until I could close the spine, only to turn you over, and start all over again.
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31
Everyone makes love out to be a perplexing, complicated, and almost unobtainable thing. Maybe it is. I sometimes find myself thinking this to be so. Yet I also find it to be so simple. You don't have to do much for me to know i love you. The warmth of your hand in mine is fact enough. I hope this feeling comes to you as simply as it does to me. No matter how many abstract poems are written about this love, this love I feel for you, I know it's simple. It comes as easy as breathing. One thing, one day won't be this simple. The most complicated of days will be the day I suffer the sight of you leaving.
0
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 8:57 PM UTC
It's simple if you let it be