Love poems for hopeless romantics; I'm the poet and you're my muse.
A poem about love you dare to ask You implored the right person for the task Whether it's eyes of blue, brown, or green Or maybe a frame that is wide or lean
By Jessica Miller9 years ago in Poets
as i looked back on the intricate details of our love, i realized the root of our differences. as i thought through the polarity of our opinions, words began to flow and so i wrote:
By Macy Miller9 years ago in Poets
Sometimes the hardest thing to do, is look you in the eyes after saying hello. It's not because of some misguided fear or guilt.
By kayla curl9 years ago in Poets
Dark thoughts chase each other Round and round in my head My computer never works right I can't get anything done Always working
By A. R. Ambrosi9 years ago in Poets
A cold had settled within my bones... my soul, my heart was made of ice. A chilled breath escaped my mouth as I exhaled and a warm one meandered inside...
By Kyrah Clemons9 years ago in Poets
You cause the stillness of my heart, ‘Til the end from the start. Everything’s a rush and a blur, But seeing you makes me sure.
By Alex A.9 years ago in Poets
A man plucked the strings of something that was too common-he didn't have to name it to know he was playing it. He knew the instrument as well as he knew sorrow, if the thing was an old friend-he'd cover his tab at the bar.
By Bridget Meier9 years ago in Poets
What would you do if I asked you how you felt about me? Would you tell me the truth? Would you lie to me? Would you completely ignore the question?
By Jane Smith9 years ago in Poets
Opposites attract they say Is that why we seem to work out so perfectly? You’re the sunshine I’m the moonlight You blaze through the day
He was never certain why Mary always walked the way she did Or how her hips swayed side to side so abruptly And how her perfume always lingered on his tongue
By Meg El9 years ago in Poets
At times I think to myself that the memory of the one I left behind will one day fade away and disappear... I'm right here, at the edge of town walking the line and facing my deepest fear...
By Bryan RJ Delorme9 years ago in Poets
It was then that she lifted her wrist to reveal a tiny tattoo, barely visible to the naked eye or so it would seem. “What’s that tattoo on your wrist?” he asks her, gesturing in her direction.
