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I can search the world but never would I unearth a woman like you.
I wish I love you didn’t dissolve so freely from your careless mouth.
My hardcover is worn. I thought leather was thick-skinned. Spine is gone but I manage to hold myself together. Tears bleed the words and each page, a crime scene. Writing about you
Three men, one legacy, one-hour thrones: the common await their nearing fall. Trading words not for women, sports and anatomy provoke debate, even war. Tenured skin holds endless wisdom, while eager young wallow in
Eyes without vision: the reflection unbearable. Life must take an intermission. My undoing, irreparable. Conception - orgasms and smiles, he made a pastime of your flesh.
Pitch black. The streetlights question the blinds for answers. They slightly part their lips to gossip but are sworn to secrecy. I knew the walls were talking though. You could hear the paint chipping
Excuse my gaze. My eyes have poor manners. They tell my secrets to the deaf. Break silence with their violent whispers and snicker in braille for the blind to read. I’m still teaching them discretion.
Transitions are never easy. I know. I have not mastered moving on. You were an awkward sentence leaving me open-ended. I knew we weren’t over, but to be continued… There wasn’t an introduction.
My eyes are windowless frames. Climb in, my soul wide open. Being translucent is all too familiar. The unknown is known.
My youth was a boarding school where I slept in a waterbed of tears. Made a mess of my sheets, I was teased for wetting the bed. But my mourning saved many from not waking up another morning.
My cologne has a striking resemblance to the city’s dirty laundry. Only difference I cannot contain my secrets to a hamper or wash them away with bribery. That stench unfortunately is must.