art
Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
It's Midnight
It’s midnight and you’re in my mind instead of in my bed. You’re so far away when I need you to be so much closer. I need your messy hair and loving eyes. I need you. I need you in every way that one person could need another. I need you laying in my arms. I need your voice whispering in my ear and telling me how much you love me. I need your lips pressed against mine, and our legs intertwined. I need to feel your smooth skin, while I trace my fingers along the shape of your body. I need your eyes looking up at mine with such passion, that it takes my breath away. But most of all – I just need your presence to get me through the night. To give me a reason to keep going. It’s midnight and I need you more than ever.
By Gianna Neufeld3 years ago in Poets
What is love.
What is 'love'?// ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀\\Love ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ "an intense feeling of deep affection." ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀But, what is 'love' exactly? ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Love changes it's meaning from time to time, place to place, and person to person. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ For some people, love might be sitting next to their crushes during first grade. Or watching two episodes of their favourite show in a single day. Or having pizza on their birthdays. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ For some people, love might be roaming around the Old Lahore. Or having dinner in front of the Eiffel Tower in Paris. Or listening to the calm sound of the sea waves. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ For some people, love might be getting a golden star from their favourite teachers as kids. Or their mother giving them the bigger piece of cake. Or someone who makes their life just a bit better than before. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ It can be someone you never expected to even know, but turns out to be your wedding partner. It can be someone who gets you your favourite dish, just for giving them a shoulder to cry on. It can be someone right around the corner of the street, singing your favourite song. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
By Muhammad Sikandar3 years ago in Poets
Ghost Room
As I turned to the bedroom window, I saw what looked like the shad0w of someone. It was just the tree. Still, something didn't seem right. The way my head felt every time I walked into the bedroom was just odd. And the heavy, almost thick air that seemed hard to breathe. As if each step I took was taken underwater, my body did not want to be in there.
By J. K. Anderson3 years ago in Poets
