love poems
Love poems for hopeless romantics; I'm the poet and you're my muse.
Chrysalism.
Chrysalism: the tranquility and peace that you feel when you're indoors during a thunderstorm. ❀❀❀❀❀ Warmth. Tap dancing across my skin. Slippery sliding through my veins. Warmth - more emotion than temperature.
Horripilation
Ode to the secret of the goosebump the surface of skin shows the extent of excitement as goosebumps explode, erecting hairs on my neck
Kelli Sheckler-AmsdenPublished 6 months ago in PoetsI stand vigil at an empty grave
I stand vigil at an empty grave waiting for someone I could not save youthful blood is still bright red ghosts laugh because they forget they are dead
- Content Warning
Moist
a decadently soft and sweet sponge lips taking bites and sultry kisses rising fluid heat, lips and tongue the deep pool of syrup and cream
Paul StewartPublished 6 months ago in Poets Snowfall
Your words struck like thunderbolts that left me shattered. With tempest in your thoughts you stormed out. The door rattled.
Katarzyna PopielPublished 6 months ago in PoetsFirst time the Moon appeared through the windows and through the nature green
First time through the forest and the highest tree the Moon is calling me Even If I can see shadows of the pine tree on it I can feel and see the light of Him
Reward
Clean sheets Thread count hundreds Freshly laundered Gently . Lying within Just scrubbed clean Naked With someone else
Gerard DiLeoPublished 6 months ago in PoetsDear Santa
Fifth year of not having you with me I was hoping it would get easier by now. ~~~ Fourth Christmas Spent without you Still writing Santa Clause
Tressa RosePublished 6 months ago in PoetsLOVE COMES WITH SICKNESS
Rhymes, rhythms, sounds, noise, shouts, screams Aren't they pairs of the same thing
valencia mokgothuPublished 6 months ago in PoetsWhispers of the Heart
In a universe of splendid varieties, Darling strolls in delicate twilight. Eyes like stars, a delicate look, Murmurs of affection, similar to a sweet surprise.
In the veins of valor
In the heart's deep cavern, a blood cell brave, Coursed through veins, an endless wave. A tiny warrior in a crimson sea, Bound by duty, to set the spirit free.
Humble beginnings
Humble evenings they brag while not enough are being had ✂ short term pleasure long term pain indulging in suffering.
Kalina BethanyPublished 6 months ago in Poets