Most recently published stories in Poets.
I'm afraid to tell you I love you It's like watching you skate in search of your words and looking at the ceiling and talking about weather for a distraction.
By Karlos Cabello8 years ago in Poets
colors can define a lot. psychiatrists even diagnose patients by blots. depending on how you see, sometimes colors are all you need, to know which direction to proceed.
By Jennifer Petersen8 years ago in Poets
Personification poem The sky cried all night long Passing slowly along the clouds groaned. Water came freely from those dark grey clouds,
By Emily Benson8 years ago in Poets
I remember wishing for a boy who'd photograph me for the hell of it I got one He went days without speaking to me to punish my nights out alone
By Emily Miller8 years ago in Poets
If I were the moon I'd change color too I wouldn't go to bed at dawn but stay up all day and blend in with the sky I wouldn't leave you at night but instead keep you company through the dark
By Irene Laux8 years ago in Poets
You are the moon that guides me safely through the night. You are the sun that gives me light. You are the fire that keeps me warm.
By Purr Rika8 years ago in Poets
Isn't it ironic? The things that make us who we are, the things that make our souls beautiful, can actually be hideous, terrifying and evil?
By Destyni Schmuckal8 years ago in Poets
This big king bed Feels lonely without you Even though I only spent one night With you where you are It seems like So long ago
By Samantha Reed8 years ago in Poets
Poetry Is more than just words on a page. It comes with a sense of pleasure, To the carefully listening ear. The sheer physical, sensual, arousing feeling
By Emma Lynn8 years ago in Poets
When we are little they call us a princess. We wear the crown high. We love being soiled. Zero stress. Sit proudly on out throne with our hands on one thigh.
By Crissy DXCII8 years ago in Poets
All I ever wanted was to get you in my bed. I'd let you have control take me any way. But once in awhile all I need, is to sleep in my own bed.
By R.A. Hudson8 years ago in Poets
Somewhere close to Octavian, but closer to Caesar Somewhere close to showers, but closer to flowers Seasons change and spring soon becomes summer
By J J8 years ago in Poets
