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Literature Text
He holds her,
maybe he is ready
to talk about love.
He takes a breath.
She takes a breath.
She is not ready for love,
her heart is cold;
left from a frozen wasteland of a childhood,
she can not receive his love.
He takes another breath,
maybe its not the right time,
He noticed she was upset,
the scars on her arms left a trail
to her heart.
He is unsure.
She is unsure.
Maybe love is possible,
a hug can go a long way in life
thawing ones insides.
Chewing the half moons of his fingers.
Chewing the half ways of her fingers.
He sighs, ready to take the big step,
lightly taps her on the shoulder;
he is now ready he thinks.
He opens his mouth to speak.
She opens her mouth to speak.
maybe he is ready
to talk about love.
He takes a breath.
She takes a breath.
She is not ready for love,
her heart is cold;
left from a frozen wasteland of a childhood,
she can not receive his love.
He takes another breath,
maybe its not the right time,
He noticed she was upset,
the scars on her arms left a trail
to her heart.
He is unsure.
She is unsure.
Maybe love is possible,
a hug can go a long way in life
thawing ones insides.
Chewing the half moons of his fingers.
Chewing the half ways of her fingers.
He sighs, ready to take the big step,
lightly taps her on the shoulder;
he is now ready he thinks.
He opens his mouth to speak.
She opens her mouth to speak.
Literature
2. You
I have fallen in love with a poem
the red roses blooming over your
knees, the blue violets threading
and coursing through your veins
I have fallen in love with the haiku
of your fingertips tapping syllables
down my vertebrae five, seven, five
I have pressed my heart like a bookmark
between the curled pages of your body,
free-verse freckles scattered across the
line-break nestled in the gorge between
your clavicle protrusions, stanzas faintly
whistling in the gaps amidst your shaped
ivory teeth, two eyes rhyming with mine;
I have memorised the stream of consciousness
murmured into my mouth as we kiss, as you
whisper spoken word lulla
Literature
dear depression,
(master of the umbra)
i hate you.
broken whispers, lonely promises,
you are the worst of lovers, owning all, but
never seeming to be satisfied
even with your name branded scarlet into my wrists.
i am no longer the golden songbird as when you first met me,
but yet
you still hang onto me
your claws
raking across my heart like
my pen ripping across the bloodstained page, like
lightning across the skies, (vengeance
raining down from the gods i used to believe in)
"don't let them catch you,"
you breathed into my ears.
an ounce of life, in exchange for a cloak of darkness (i thought i'd only stay one night)
the fog was sluggish and deep.
so bl
Literature
I Hate Love
I hate love.
They tell you love is just amazing and wonderful and fills you with joy.
Well I’m calling their bluff: That’s bullshit.
Love tears you apart, makes you cry and hit the walls. It makes you think these thoughts that you never would have before and feel what you never have before.
It hurts just so much and you can never fully recover from it.
But the reason I hate it the most, is that it scares me. The unknown, the putting full faith in this person and saying: “Yes this is the one person that I will let be my absolute destruction.”
It’s beyond terrifying. Love is just too powerful and so easily dama
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This poem came from when I was scrolling through deviantart the other day. In some poems, the story is very one sided and about a passionate love. What about poems about uncertain love? Relationship love is a complicated messy business , not that I've had a lot of it myself. :L But please do tell me what you think, and fave and all that jazz
© 2014 - 2024 puddlethecat
Comments41
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I'm on the girl's side. Cold as ice and not ready for love.