Love poems for hopeless romantics; I'm the poet and you're my muse.
A feather floats down the stream From where you used to sit Your beating heart is all I heard For days and years on end I tested waters
By Tanya Leij12 months ago in Poets
When Love Learns to Breathe Love is not a fire, it is a quiet air. It fills the spaces between our ribs. It hums beneath our sleep,
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 12 months ago in Poets
I start with a strange confession, the kind that feels too tender to say aloud. Something in me recognized you long before the world gave us a reason.
By Printique Studios12 months ago in Poets
He doesn't love you, but he won't let you go. He's neither willing to cherish you nor able to let you go. Behind a veneer of respectability, he does the most selfish things.
By Emily Chan - Life and love sharing12 months ago in Poets
The Jigsaw Poem I found your words in crooked lines, pieces scattered in the dark. Some edges fit, some truths declined,
Tonight, I’ll tell you a story— Not a dream, nor a fable, But the song of a boy’s lonely heart, Every word unshakably true.
By Shazzed Hossain Shajal12 months ago in Poets
The violins breathe smoke tonight. We circle the edges of warmth, pretending not to see the ash beneath our feet. Your hand finds mine-soft, deliberate-
By The Omnichromiter12 months ago in Poets
Well, it’s funny cos I thought your eyes were blue… Or maybe they are, and maybe they change, But I thought I knew you so well and now they’re green…
By Sandra Tena12 months ago in Poets
No matter how many times I’ve crossed the bridges or walked by the canals, it’s always nice to see the view of the Venetian ocean, and I’m sure it never gets old. No matter how many times you’re playing the same song, every time you enjoy it as much as the first time. That’s like people; it doesn’t matter how many times you’re seeing or talking to that same person, there’s always a hope in us. maybe not as much as the first time, but it’s always good to know that there’s someone by your side.
By Shin12 months ago in Poets
Behind the scenes and speculation Hide sweaty brows and obligation From fitted masks of expectation To satisfy imagination
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsden12 months ago in Poets
We stood in the quiet where our names had burned away, the air still trembling from the echo of what we were. I sifted through the cinders of your touch,
We are in this place of our life Where we may not always remember Yet, we never forget what counts. Memories have become stepping stones
By JBaz12 months ago in Poets
