love poems
Love poems for hopeless romantics; I'm the poet and you're my muse.
Love
Love comes so easily to me. I see it everywhere. I find it in the littlest things. I see the keys depress on a piano and I fall. I hear guitar strings vibrate and I’m lost. I listen to rain and I think of you. I don’t know how to express what I have for you. Your green eyes are a mystery. I’ve so clearly been able to see people through eyes but I see your eyes and I lose focus. I lose sense of everything. I picture forests I can get lost in and a wilderness I long for. I picture the light at the end of the tunnel. Nobody ever says what color the light is. I believe it’s green. I believe it’s a forest. A wilderness all to myself. Your joy spreads. Like wildfire. And I’m burning. The way you speak is so alluring. You have so much to say and it always takes you minutes to speak single sentences but I look in your eyes and see a cluttered mind picking together the pieces and I wait. I patiently wait. I listen as you seemingly discover words for the first time. I wait for you to finish thoughts you never knew you had.
Aaron hugheyPublished 6 years ago in PoetsFairytale
You’re the Gertrude Stein to my Picasso, I’m the Camille to your Rodin. How does it end? Will our art become an emblem of an endless love or will our beautiful work become forgotten? In a couple of years, will someone discover what we have created and suddenly make our love known all over the world? Isn’t it reckless to fall into something like this so deep? Isn’t it childish to be crazy about each other? It is my dear, it is.
Brownie HazePublished 6 years ago in PoetsSmall Talks
Why not talk about sex while drinking coffee? Let’s tell each other things we always wanted to say. Let’s get lost in the universe full of dreams that never came true and promises that has never been kept. Let’s tell each other sweet little lies in which we can get lost. I could tell you how I feel when you gently touch inner side of my thigh and swipe your finger around my navel. The Velvet Underground plays Sunday Morning for the third time but we’re still drowning in the lakes of our black coffees.
Brownie HazePublished 6 years ago in PoetsYou and Us
I didn’t know I wanted youYou were so sure of meStaring as if you knew meAt what, I couldn’t see One of the few who really triedMy attention was not so easily caughtHaving to be convinced of the real thingAre you here for real or what?
Hands
Many nights when I can't express enough how I feel, I write to you. These love notes and poems are never new but always a surprise.
The Stone and The Traveler
The night was dense with the musk of the sound. The scent of which filled the nostrils and choked the hopeful. Alone, amongst a group of strangers, shrouded by the smoke of cigarettes ignored stories and fabrications, a lone Stone shone bright. The light of the moon cascading down her twisted bounty: Side eye glances pierced the armor of the a traveler stuck in the time. That one glance eliminated all the questions that surrounded the traveler: he no longer consumed the by the night, He was enamored by her atmosphere. The whiskey blurred his mind, yet his vision was crystal clear.
Stephen JonesPublished 6 years ago in PoetsSeasons
the sun was shining and i wasn’t looking for anyone but i found you anyways and you stayed as the leaves fell i did too
He
Big bright smile I see. Fluorescent eyes glow upon the light. His teeth white as snow present a diamond on each one. The body of an angelic angel rested on my chest kissing all my pain away.
Wedding Night
Oh my G...! I did not realize how strong his arms were until now. Boastfully I then grabbed his muscles tighter as if I feared a bee.
Crissy DXCIIPublished 6 years ago in PoetsThe First...
I remember the very first time you opened your eyes. The connection within your stare. As I promised to look after you forever.
Steven BaldryPublished 6 years ago in PoetsMore Than You'll Ever Know...
More than you'll ever know... I remember the first time you opened your eyes. So questioning, so wide you stared right into me.
Steven BaldryPublished 6 years ago in PoetsConflicted
Every breath that she takes is a blessing. At times I almost mistake to confessing that the best thing isn’t even when she’s done undressing, and our lips get to caressing, sucking, teasing, and testing leaving love marks while I feel her insides flexing.. . No, it may be her stares, and how they are sublime beyond compare, and almost blind with little care. How her eyes search for mine, ceasing all concepts of time while I try to find what makes her so divine. They glisten and shine and I long for yet hide from this attention. Like she can see my obsession or recognize that with every breath in I’m searching for her essence. My need for her exceeds mere acquiescence. Or how I get lost in her thoughts. When she speaks I’m twisted into knots as the sky rips open and I feel the heavens when she talks. I begin to find things about myself that I never even sought. My insides scream at my thoughts while my ignorance begins to rot. And despite this I’m more miserable than I have ever thought. I’m broken, I can't elegantly turn my obsession into action. She infuses me with such passion yet my mind cannot fashion how to showcase this complete satisfaction. So as always I turn to sexual gratification. With every breath and dripping sweat I express how you’ve arrested my regrets, and yet I fret that it seems I love you for what we do rather than who you are. Yet by far every thrust, shiver, and scar is a testament to the stars that I could not exist with us apart. That us molded together is the most priceless of art. And although your moans sighs and cries may not reveal all you do to my heart. Whenever I gaze into your eyes while our world is tearing apart, I hope that it’s a start.
Hannah MendenhallPublished 6 years ago in Poets