When I’m with you, it feels like I’m in a museum.
Your beauty, always stuns me, sets my love out on a whim.
Secretly appreciating the craftsmanship of God,
Can’t help but look into your eyes, and I know it may sound odd,
But when you sleep, I take a peek, and count all of the ways…
That I’d love to adore you for however many days.
Resistance is pointless if I’m trying to resist you.
Giving in ain’t weakness, when you’re in love with the view.
My senses overload, from your gorgeous hue.
If you’re a painting, I need to know who painted you.
Cause I’ve never seen a more attractive face,
Sorry if that makes you feel a way,
But your beauty has a hold on my heart,
That’s why I look at you like a work of art.
Simply, rare.
About the Creator
T.D. Riyan
I've been writing all my life. From short stories and songs to poetry and full scripts. I've won several different writing contests throughout my life and recently released my first official poetry book on Amazon; The Boy Who Lucid Dreamed.
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Discriminate
Authors note: I originally published this with no explanatory note, after a conversation with my partner in which we both agreed that no one would think these were my views, it was sufficiently over the top for it to be evidently a caricatured collection of some of the "microaggressive" things that can be said by people of one race to those of another. And lets be clear, I had in mind a white man talking to a black man in a country in which white is the majority. I wrote this after a conversation I had at work about the idea of microaggressions, in which we thought about who they were micro for - for the speaker, each of these comments may feel "micro", for the receiver, maybe not. I chose some of these lines carefully and deliberately, most of them are things I have heard said. But I wanted to come back and make absolutely clear that this is not a poem representing my views. We thought I didn't need to, but perhaps its not actually so very over the top as a caricature. Perhaps its a little too close to the bone. Perhaps that I would assume otherwise is in itself an illustration of my privilege.
By Hannah Moorea day ago in Poets
Was I a Model in Japan?
During my time in Nagoya I worked and lived at the strangely famous hostel and café Nagonoya. With its chequered floors and florescent lighting it felt quite dated, but I think that was supposed to be part of the charm. The dorms were always fully booked on weekends with domestic tourists and there was always a buzz in the downstairs café. Camera crews were constantly in and out of the place interviewing the Japanese staff members who worked the café. I think it had something to do with the egg sandwiches. At least that was what was on most of the merchandise, except for that one dishcloth with the owner’s face on it. Was I being employed by a local celebrity?
By Susanna Kiernan5 days ago in Wander
Comments (1)
Nice please return the love❤️ Good luck!