love poems
Love poems for hopeless romantics; I'm the poet and you're my muse.
Wheelchair
To the girl sitting in front of me. You that somehow have found the secret to a happy life please do not ever give a sip of your lips to someone who sees you as ordinary because there is nothing ordinary in being like you, seated on the throne of silent voices whispering: “what happened to her?” just because your legs stopped taking you away from reality a long time ago, I do not know when or why.
By Marco Gritti8 years ago in Poets
Two Kids
Here's a story of two kids just trying to make it. Just trying to get it right. Just trying to make it through the night. Through all the pain and the pleasure, they never thought they'd have to lose the one thing they actually treasured. So here's to all the punks and outcasts. To all the popular and perfect people out there. Because love... love is the only damn thing that doesn't discriminate. And that's why I'm so god damn passionate about it. Because it legit represents everything that I am, ever was, and ever felt. No matter the shitty cards I was dealt. I still kept my mind clear and my heart open. No matter how many times, life happened and it just became dust or became broken. I'm not saying you have to agree. But, listen to the words being spoken. Love each other and love thyself. because, no one's going to love you in heaven or hell. the world is cold. the afterlife is colder. we're put into groups depending on our past instead of just sharing crying shoulders. Is that really the way we want to represent humanity? Just another dollar to make. Another demon to breed? I just lost the most important thing to me. my independent way of thinking. And for what? something I thought would last a lifetime. Now, don't get it twisted, I'm not saying that was his fault. I changed myself. Again and again. Desperately, trying to pretend, like I fit in here. Like I belonged. And all the people who made me feel like I didn't, were just wrong. But... that's actually not the truth. They were just trying to get me to see the errors in my "flawless" mindset. Anyway back to the story, and this is why I love it. There is no violence or any gore. Just misunderstandings and "I wish things could be the way they were before" and yes, some tears and past fears coming up to the surface that presented challenges and obstacles, that they faced every day. But, they just held each other and said that they'd be okay. Now, they love each other in a brotherly way. kind to each other and they have fun, and they laugh and play. But, the romance they craved and wanted so bad, began to fade away like a bad fashion fad. They became scared and irate. They screamed "that's just great" and they began to hate the idea of love and lost it in their hearts and their minds. What they didn't understand... is love exists in all kinds. Once that knowledge hit them like a ton of bricks, they held each other and shared one last kiss. And stepped into the sharp and painful reality that they just weren't meant to be. But they could join hands and share a love, that you'd find in good friends or close family.
By Alex Arfons8 years ago in Poets
My Heart Beats Still
My body is a home poorly built, with age-old moss taking over the exterior. I am in the creaky wooden floors and the cracked sink, which, much adjacent to my legs and arms, has blood in the old but ever renewing cracks. It has taken years for my owners to try to fix these cracks. It will take years to come. But when they will begin to look for what it is that keeps breaking them open, I am unsure.
By Sydney E. Carter8 years ago in Poets
Blank Canvas
I won't ever allow him to the know the truth. Letting him in any further would only do damage to myself. He already has found my weaknesses. I see him staring into my eyes, likes he's looking through a glass window. There isn't much left to the person I thought I use to be. I'm just a blank canvas raw, empty, waiting to be created. I am slowly finding myself, defining myself by the shadow of him. I feel the heat on me now. Is there any excitement left in me, how can I break free of his stare, he's waiting on me to let go, to make a move. But I don't, the only thing he sees now is a reflection of himself. He tore me and rebuilt me into someone that he doesn't even like. There's no hope for us now.
By Katie Marson8 years ago in Poets
Patience in Promises
There's something a little funny about patience. We're always promising ourselves that we will be patient. But here we go, doing things we said we'd wait for. We don't wait for nothing. Do we grab at opportunities with desire? or passion? or with selfishness? Longing for some attention, craving some affection, asking for some reason. It's killing us, we just couldn't wait until that day, and now it's stabbing us in the face. Oh how we've made a mistake. There's no going back, we wrote these promises in all the ink we had, and we can't make them disappear. How do we make them disappear?
By Namrata :)8 years ago in Poets
