My love for you is like seasons.
I could write you a love letter every day with a million more reasons.
My love for you is like the summer. The gentle warm breeze reminds me of how your kisses bring me to my knees. The rushing water of the ocean on a bright summer day reminds me of your passion, intensity, and dedication. Loving you is an addiction and I'm refusing all medication. Summer nights with you sitting on Main Street; carefree. But that's when it was just you and me. Being in love with you was surely intoxicating, and I'm still here waiting. Waiting to see if we were really meant to be. Waiting to see if you still love me.
My love for you is like the fall. Beauty slowly fading. I'm here in a river of mixed emotions... just wading. Two lovely hearts shattered, and a perfect relationship tattered. The leaves will die and fall just to welcome perfect, bright leaves in. This doesn't have to be a sad love story, we can always begin again. Your love warms my heart like pumpkin pie, and crisp apple cider. I write you these poems as a reminder, because I don't ever want you to forget of my everlasting love. I hold you higher than most in my life, you're pretty far above.
My love for you is like the winter. Bitter but beautiful, destruction in the blink of an eye. With each falling snowflake, I can't help but wonder why. Leaving my little footprints on the perfect snow reminds me that you're the reason my heart has a little extra glow. When you're the subject, I can't help but let my words flow. There's just a few more things that I want you to know..
My love for you is like the spring. The rhythmic warm rain that leaves my skin glistening reminds me of how your heart beats...I was always listening. The tornado warnings every week remind me of how you keep my thoughts spinning when it's your heart I seek. If you think my rhymes are tight then why did we ever fight? I just want to love you in public and out of sight. I write you this particular poem so that you just might see how much I cherish your soul. If even for a second you think that I don't cherish and love you.. then you're simply a fool.
About the Creator
Caitlin Parsons
26 years old. STL.
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Glimpse
Jump… then fall. Jump… then fly. Weighted to weightless. It holds me like the clouds that shield the moon. Sun shining illuminating every scar along my body like a storybook of unmentionables. But forget I mentioned it. It’s the stillness from life where you are just existing. Drowning in the rushing waters, slit the wrists of the hands holding you down. Asking for help because that’s what you’re supposed to do, right? But it’s hard to put bandages on your own wrists. Recover. Everyone is recovering from something. But me, I can’t figure out what I’m recovering from. My own mind is my monster. But my words flow like a river that has never known boundaries. Quiet stillness to roaring waves crashing against the borders of my being. I have nothing to leave this world but my words. Perception is mere deception which turns to misconception. Opinions formed on snapshots of a life from which you were never welcomed to view. Shooting stars to beating hearts both linger for a time and fade off without a trace. Behind every passing face is a story worth hearing so listen. But it’s with every passing day that we are astray from the loudness of everyone else’s story. Who has the best life, who has the worst life. Who doesn’t know what to do with their life? Clock ticking, daily grind. Old movies and family home VHS videos to rewind. My future kids will never know. Seasons. But of all winter happenings, I love the snow. It’s the only substance that I can stick my hands into that make me feel everything and absolutely nothing. I hold it in my hand wondering if it will slip through my fingers like sand. Slip through my fingers like promotions, happiness, and love. I wrap my life in my words like a wet, snowy glove. Protected and exposed to the occasional brisk wind or snowflake. It’s the intense emotions I feel like an internal earthquake. Take cover. The only damages sustained are to me, myself, and I. Because I know how to lose myself. My writings locate me, relocate me, and sometimes just hold me hostage. Life looks good when you’re being preached freedom and finally taste it. They say the eyes can be the window to your soul which is why I like to keep mine closed. The path less traveled, the book read but not understood. Mystery is no mystery when I hold the key to the secrets. I’ve slept nearly 11 hours today but I still yawn. My soul is tired but I find beauty in the dawn. Capture my attention, the focus is strong. But I push you away because I’m a beautiful disaster. Tornado, volcano. A silent destroyer. But I put it back together, pick up the pieces. One door opens and another one closes but somehow I keep getting shut in and shut out. Can’t find my way out of this maze. Can’t see through this haze that surrounds me. Blinded and broadsided by life on the daily. But I keep pressing forward. Jump over obstacles that are nipping at my ankles. So close to goals that I never knew I even had. Fingertip goals that linger but somehow I’m still sad. When the world overwhelms me, my writings take me to a higher place where nothing defines me. Discovery, it’s beautiful and captivating. Redefining the ordinary by glance. But it is by chance that we are okay.
By Caitlin Parsons6 years ago in Poets
Midnight
60 seconds… 59 seconds… Time was slipping through his fingers, though he clawed at the falling grains of sand, he could not stop the hourglass from flowing. Around him, the silence was deafening. He had taken over every screen in the command centre, putting the terrible seconds before the terrified eyes of his friends and comrades.
By Alexander McEvoy4 days ago in Fiction
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