love poems
Love poems for hopeless romantics; I'm the poet and you're my muse.
a love story, post-mortem. Runner-Up in Instructions for Disappearing Challenge.
hold him as tightly as he holds you as if letting go would extinguish stars and rewrite constellations and make the world go dark wrap around him like vine and ivy, even as he rips out your petals—he loves me, he loves me not—and digs up your roots he'll become a stranger overnight, one that exists only to lie and cheat, to maim you and brutalize you and destroy you but keep holding on, a cruel game of tug of war, muscles screaming and rope ripping skin off calloused palms send texts, paragraph after paragraph, begging for explanation, for closure, for respect or kindness or humanity get cold, heartless, one-word replies from an interloper wearing the skin of the man who once told you that you were the sun unwrap the lies of unconditional forever that he spent endless nights braiding into your hair and painting on your skin stop eating when food tastes like the cremated remains of the person you were before when you were one heart in two bodies his family—your family for eight years—they'll leave too without a goodbye, proving you're just crumpled garbage, a soggy cigarette butt in a gutter pluck clumps of tangled hair out of shower drains as your chapped lips bleed and your brittle bones crumble to dust realize too late that you're becoming shadow and smoke and try to grasp those missing tendrils of your soul as fiercely as you once held him you almost make it, broken glass gathered in bloody palms, when you see that picture of him with the girl, the one who faked friendship to cover jealousy get swept away, spin-cycling in a violent wave of pain and betrayal, smashed against jagged cliffs, eroding and melting and drowning in polluted, oil slick waters let the seaweed tangle around your legs and pull you deep, like the vine you used to be when you grew only around him like a twisted baptism, the water will cleanse you, stitching split skin with barbed wire, erasing memories and identity and the stamp of him embossed on your soul, and finally—finally—you let go who are you? where are you? what are you? nothing.
By Mallory Roseabout a year ago in Poets
BACK TO THE HUM. Content Warning.
This is a Syfy romance story about two birds who fell in love long ago when they met in a bird shop. Now, Lulu appears again in OUTSTAGES CAFE as a beautiful woman with a bird head. Sweetie & Lulu meet once again. Sweetie was reincarnated as Sweetie. Lulu was reincarnated as a lady with a bird head. This is a fictional Syfy created from my dreams and my very smart parakeet, Sweetie Bird.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli about a year ago in Poets
The Saint of Simplicity
In the rugged mountains and lush valleys of 17th-century Peshawar, amidst political unrest and tribal feuds, lived a man whose words carried more power than any sword. Abdur Rahman Baba, affectionately known as Rahman Baba, was a mystic, a poet, and a man of peace whose verses still echo through time, offering solace, wisdom, and beauty to all who read them.
By Muhammad aliabout a year ago in Poets
