love poems
Love poems for hopeless romantics; I'm the poet and you're my muse.
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~got older, it began to seek purpose. Consciousness. Although time’s function was essential, it was artificial. Confined to a construct. Time envied the Universe. The infinite space in which it existed. The loving way it was held by Eternity, in perpetual bliss. Time longed to be worthy of Eternity ‘s gaze. To be held ever after. But their union could not be. The hands of time were bound. Toil and labor. How could a lowly algorithm possibly gain the attention of something as lofty as Eternity? Eternity’s heart belonged to the Universe. Jealous, time’s finite hands became destructive, wrapping around all the spheres of creation and slowly crushing them to dust. If time couldn’t have Eternity, nothing could.
By Kristen Keenon Fisherabout a year ago in Poets
"Where You Used to Be"
I sit where you used to stand, Where your laughter echoed, And the air still feels like you, Even when you’re not here. I tiptoe through our shared moments, Wishing I could rewind, To when your smile was my safe place, Before the medicine and the silence. But I can’t escape the way you looked, The shell that held you but wasn’t you— No, that’s not how I want to remember, Not with the cold stillness of the room. I want to remember the way you’d laugh As we’d argue over silly things, How you’d cheer me on from the sidelines, And how you always made me feel seen. I remember the warmth of your words, When you told me you loved me And I choked on my own tears Just trying to say it back. I remember the cats, How they came to say goodbye, And the nurse who couldn’t hide her tears, Because you weren’t just family to me. You were a part of the world that made sense, A part of the kitchen, the letters, The gentle etiquette lessons and jokes, The simple warmth of your presence. But now I’m left holding fragments, And the room is quieter than before. I reach for the memories, Clutching the ones that feel like you. And I won’t forget the warmth of your smile, The way you’d light up a room Before the world asked us to say goodbye, Because what matters most is you.
By Israr khanabout a year ago in Poets
