love poems
Love poems for hopeless romantics; I'm the poet and you're my muse.
What Does It Mean to Love as an Adult?
You're no longer as willful as a child, and you no longer pay the price for past obsessions. You no longer get angry with fate, understanding that most people leave because better connections await you.
By Emily Chan - Life and love sharingabout a year ago in Poets
June
6/28/25 In June there were wasps at every corner. There were men and women and children with blown out feathers like peacocks or the figure in that field now floating in every direction at the sound of fire. Fear of being stung is just as bad as popcorn lung or tachycardia to some people. Same levels of adrenaline and whatnot. It’s been beautiful for a year but the news sites keep writing the same flood over and over again and we’re starting to worry about the pipes. You’re starting to give in to the thing that I needed your strength to stop. Now we’re using plastic cups instead of glassware because the kids have nowhere else to go so they gather at every turn and they don’t get paid to be here so it’s no use saying excuse me. They don’t even pull the legs of their pants up so it’s leaving tracks all over the floor. In June it’s cold and then it’s hot and the rain should stop sooner or later. The families in soft sand don’t think about peeling off denim skirts in the bathrooms because they have a roast that’s ready at home and the kids are starting to get hungry. Don’t worry— he took the feathers off. He’ll make sure your bowl is bone-free and he called his friend to update the plumbing and, even so, nothing could take your mind away from the plate in front of you. Wasps don’t build their nests in places they aim to destroy and June doesn’t hold off disaster for anyone. Pack an umbrella and drench your skin in sticky glow. Just because it’s their only choice doesn’t mean they aren’t grateful.
By Olivia Dodgeabout a year ago in Poets
Death Of His Halo
He has ears That hear words unsaid An untamed tongue Unlike the rest of us Shamelessly expressive, He must have been a poet or a scorned lover in a part past life Who drowned in misunderstanding Because he bit his tongue and only released it in metaphors His eyes pierce into your soul Quietly amused by the discomfort it has caused As you struggle to breathe, you forget how to breathe Like begging your tongue to remember words of a foreign language you just learnt "What's wrong," He asks,as if he doesn't know The only words you've heard all night, But you bite your tongue and swallow your voice. His lips move Are words prancing out of his mouth Or are chants Dancing off his tongue? casting a spell That seems sinful yet virtuous As though caressing you Without touching you Seducing your soul... Your poor imprisoned soul You caged for normalcy You hear your soul making wishes Only you can grant But you don't Atleast not for now You try to speak But you over bit your tongue Now tangled and tied His soul starts to draw closer "Run!Run!Run!" Your mind implored "Wait!Wait!Wait!" Your heart explored You souls draw closer to eachother Gently and Softly His tongue untangles yours The knot in your throat you didn't realise you had, vanishes So does his halo His an ordinary person My soul happened to recognize But still magical
By Ropafadzo Thokozani Zinyuke (Fadzo) about a year ago in Poets
