love poems

Love poems for hopeless romantics; I'm the poet and you're my muse.

dandelion
i thought my greatest fears were founded when you left me when you said you never would and the hand you gave me is also the one you
By Sara 3 years ago in Poets
The Firmament
"Death is scary. But for some reason, with you in my life, it doesn't seem as bad. I know we'd find each other. Somehow." The lonely eyed man said to his partner with a searching look. His voice was scratchy and sad, with a resonating undertone of passion.
By Melissa Ingoldsby3 years ago in Poets
Happy New Year!!!
We can all agree that the spring is one of the four wonderful season we've got from the "creator". I've always loved spring time. I can finally go out, the weather is not freezing anymore, everything is waking up slowly: the nature, on the trees leaves grow while on the ground the last snow is melting and eventually there remains nothing from the winter. And the animals creep out from their long-lasting hibernation, we can finally hear birds singing and hedgehogs (and other mammals like bears or deer) living in their natural habitat. This autumn I noticed a little hedgehog fumbling at the base of the shed. It was probably looking for some food at the beginning of the night. I wish you guys could see it. The tiny snub nose and the even smaller black button eyes. It was just so cute...
By Anna 3 years ago in Poets
Dandelions
I know I began to grow where you never desired me. I wish you would understand how difficult it was, though. I crawled out from nothing and found life in the most undetectable crack of pavement. I nestled in and prayed to be something, and as the rain found me, I understood that I could be something. I began to grow. A small yellow thing, I was. When my color began to show was most likely when you had spotted me. You smiled that first time. I felt so much joy. Oh, to be seen and liked. Loved, maybe? For the first time, I had felt a reason to grow not just for survival, but for affection. However, as more of my flowers began to bloom my roots began to crack your pavement. I didn’t mean it, truly, but I had begun to make the ground around you unstable. I had misunderstood your praise. I tried to move myself away from my burrow, but the roots I had set to become a spectacle for you to admire had trapped me in the deep earth. It was only when you flushed my roots with boiling water and vinegar, I realized I had only grown so far to please you and had stopped considering my own survival.
By Juniper3 years ago in Poets
Nostradamus
Nostradamus is nauseating I wish I was just hating But the closest to this gnosis Is something between hypnosis and psychosis
By Atomic Historian3 years ago in Poets
Intrusive Thoughts
Intrusive thoughts are usually quickly forgot Unless you’re me Then you write them down For all to see Let them bleed Into the world
By Atomic Historian3 years ago in Poets
Crazy Hair
Miss crazy hair Why do you ask why I stare I’m always looking at the beauty Beneath that crazy hair Thank you for reading my work. If you enjoyed this story, there’s more below. Please hit the like and subscribe button, you can follow me on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram @AtomicHistorian. To help me create more content, leave a tip or become a pledged subscriber. I also make stickers, t-shirts, etc here.
By Atomic Historian3 years ago in Poets
Pretty Little Things
Pretty little things Soft like heather on wings Shifting ever so slightly Hips sashay in the wind Begging you to come in
By Atomic Historian3 years ago in Poets
A Novel Poem
How absurd What a novel idea To think that your idea can’t be both What poetic injustice To think we can’t do both What kind of host
By Atomic Historian3 years ago in Poets
Love's Unseen Wounds
In all those times, I was right there, You didn't seem to even care. Now you've got others, giving me an uncommon glare, Thought you were special, but I was unaware. Oh, you were my gem, or so I thought, Turns out, I was brutally misjudged, my heart caught. Now you're taken, my world's distraught, In this unpleasant rather sharp pain, my love is fraught. All those cherished moments, now just a memory, You moved on, and it stings, can't you see? Once, I believed in you and me, Oh, the hurt, the way it used to be.
By Oroush Fatima3 years ago in Poets
The owner of the trigger
Deep wounds, Rising to the surface, Exposing itself as a fresh cut despite historical evidence, Triggered by a simple word within a friendly exchange,
By Serenitee3 years ago in Poets
Ebony tears
In the deep shadows of midnight, Where the ebony cries his lament, Dark tears, like the scourge itself, I weave a grey poem.
By Eduarda Rodrigues3 years ago in Poets