love poems
Love poems for hopeless romantics; I'm the poet and you're my muse.
One Minute — Nine O’Clock
Quietful mystique — a feeling, perhaps mistaken — the moment I took for too long. The mystery of the soul and the brain. Brown eyes I was born with, a degree. Why aren't we free — a realm of questioning, reasoning about who is real? Are we?
By LUCCIAN LAYTH7 months ago in Poets
mycelial
If I were a mushroom and you were a tree I would have found you already — threaded myself through the dark to where your roots reach down and wove myself in. They see my fruit. Beautiful enough to want, too dangerous to hold. But you would know what lives beneath — the web of me, moving through every dark and patient inch between us. I would bring you what the deep holds. You would give me light made solid. Neither of us would need a word for it — the forest never has. When you find me you won’t feel the finding, only that you always knew where your roots were going.
By Mina Carey7 months ago in Poets
