Love poems for hopeless romantics; I'm the poet and you're my muse.
70's slow jams Techno underscores Scotch on the rocks One gulp Alfred Hitchcock critiques And voiceovers Baby you’re a whole new mystery
By Nicole Hampton9 years ago in Poets
Feeling so close, yet so far. My heart dragging in shadows with sun light behind. Dwindling rays and sparkling drops of water make my skin tingle like your touch.
By Monroe Dean9 years ago in Poets
You shaved today Now there are tiny black hairs Stuck to the hand soap And all over the back of the sink I just wanted to wash my hands
By A. R. Ambrosi9 years ago in Poets
Your nods Make ordering Gluten-free pizza and decaf tea Bearable Even if the waitress skips a beat Of her Happy tone
Her eyes Her eyes are the thing I remember most When I first saw her The type of deep blue that seemed to peer straight through your soul and consume you
By Matt Tully9 years ago in Poets
Pale morning light creeps in Its questing rays find narrow passages Around closed curtains And between shuttered blinds The light is dim and the air is cool
Our idiosyncrasies are not one in the same, yet understandable. Trust in those who adore you, The Quintessential Gentleman.
By Rebecca Williams9 years ago in Poets
Sometimes I lay awake at night jealous of all the people who have touched your body before me, And knowing at least what the scientist say that in seven years it will only be my hands and legs and the rest of my body that has touched you
By cheyenne 9 years ago in Poets
You and I... Could birth a nation, Stimulate the minds of the masses, Ignite passions that lie dormant... If only you would see me.
By Jessica Burden9 years ago in Poets
There was this war inside me An unsettling belief And it wasn’t until I found you That I was able to finally see I was unmarked and raw
By D.L Michaels9 years ago in Poets
The day hot, Summer sun burning down, The air, Moist with humidity. In shorts and a tee shirt, Trying to stay cool. Birds singing.
By Katherine Williams9 years ago in Poets
All I know are tiny heart-shaped dreams, pastel and chalky and melting on my tongue before I can forget how they taste, before I can remember what they say.
By isa bel9 years ago in Poets
