Learn more about other poetry terms
your golden-brown skin is warm and inviting. on the outside i stay cool and collected -- freezing my feelings so i'll never crack. but on the inside,
Such wonder and bliss it is to see young love bud and to strive from that first kiss. Where one plus one equate to anon and from this where all future hopes are shone.
How strange That hands so gentle could touch with such fury And damage so intensely. How strange That hands so rough could touch the hearts of so many SO tenderly. How strange
I've always loved the color red It can be so intense How one simple color can mean so many things I've fucked with red as my lingerie That was a good night I've painted my nails red
The thoughts that hide within the back of the mind The words we think but not say Of the people not heard when they speak
An empath Just a ProSonderer Nothing more But quick to learn every human’s soul will be instinctively felt just as the breeze flows
Never have I thought how I wanted to be loved. I have tested my language Only to find my excuse when people call me “slut” Because, actually, I just prefer physical touch. And now it is too late to ask
I remember every day that we would spend together. I let it get the best of me cause I can still feel your hands hold mine when you were scared. The tone of your voice when you'd cry on the phone. Your swelled eyes when you'd stare at me.
There was a fire inside of herthat she just wouldn't put out.
I locked the door behind me And as I sat on the toilet seat I looked down at my feet Red, from the lack of heat I began remisicing on memories Bur it wasn't long until I was done
Sometimes when we are standing alone in the kit
as I lay Prints, forward; the distance as I drift, lone wolf,
Flashing lights, screaming sirens. heart stopped, panic
Eyes flowing with invitations and implications Slightly parted lips begging to be met by more A pulse beating a rapid rhythm so rowdy it's almost audible Orbs soft and malleable Made for manipulation