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#poets on love
creatingnikki · 2 months
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falling in love.
there are not many people I come across that impress me. few that amuse me.
amusement may spark an interest. but it takes so much more to brew love.
tonight I don't crave being loved. tonight I crave falling in love. and you know, you know there was not much I knew when I was fourteen but I knew one thing right — you cannot fall in love, the true kind of love, if in that equation you are not loved back.
love is energy. that energy is an exchange. it is not one sided. not the love you know soul-deep.
and tonight that's the love I crave. the man I will fall in love. whose existence will make my heart happy, my soul calm, and my mind eleated.
yes, that's what I crave. falling in love.
it's equal in its presence, in its intensity, in its gentleness. it's the meeting of two souls. that's what the spark is. and when those two souls stay? that's what the spark evolves into — true love.
I've felt the spark one too many times but it always flickered too soon and extinguished if I was lucky or charred everything around me if I was not.
when did the spark get to evolve fully? never, not once.
but now that is what I want. the evolution of the spark. the stability of love. the surety. the equality of love. the meeting of two souls. the building and nurturing of a language of the two souls; a universe only they know and in the presence of which they glow with peace and contentment.
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sheispoetrying · 2 months
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We’ve been living in silence, laughing in dreams.
Wind howls at the moon while snow coats the trees.
Nights bleed into mornings, our day starts at noon.
You bring toast and orange juice, I stay warm in your room.
The world turns on its end, so we keep the blinds closed.
Dance slow in the hallway, humming la vie en rose.
Days turn to nights, to months and then years.
We trade sorrows for honey, kisses for tears.
I think back to the days when our hearts were so weak.
Holding love in our fists, tired pride in our teeth.
But time comes around for all that are meant.
We found our way here, where your home is my scent.
-(a.e.) // quiet and simple
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abrighterspark · 5 months
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your back is broad and bears burdens bigger than i know
but i swear to you, i'll take them first before the strain begins to show
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deuteragonized · 1 year
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he loves me.
i am broken
i am bloody
i am bruised
but he loves me.
he is constant and unwavering
as the sun
he shines on me and i am warm
because he loves me.
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wordsbyjenpoetry · 8 months
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Take my love in your arms and feel it beat within your heart.
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ilovehimstill · 3 months
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My Long-Distance Love
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I hate finding it's a two way street,
That love is also grief.
Time and its unholy trinity:
Future, past and me.
But sometimes, I get to agree
Eden isn't some long gone reverie.
It's stitched into your sheets,
And my memories.
And I try, I do, I swear, to be there.
But I'm here, and then I go,
Catch the bus that takes me
Away from home.
So I'm sleeping in your jumper,
The one with traces of your cologne.
But sometimes, somehow,
It makes me more alone.
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I loved him, In tangled sheets, and half asleep.
he loved, the stranger beside him, a beautiful disaster, he thought he could keep.
with a soul too wild, to be chained to him. she dreamed, of paradise.
He craved control, and the thought of forever, touching his own lies.
We're Not Lovers
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breakingdivision · 3 months
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I dreamt of you last night. I spent all day trying to fall asleep again just to see you one more time.
- I can’t get you out of my mind (via breakingdivision)
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4s1na · 7 days
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when I look at him, I feel like a small kid who's staring at the moon knowing that you’d never get to make it yours but still chooses to admire it every day.
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shittyartestries · 2 months
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i hope the stars know how lucky they are when you wish on them
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suffering-is-cute · 3 months
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banishing the hours of the quiet night, i vigorously
shake my head, calling away the moments before daylight's momentum hits.
my mother whispered into the shell of my ear, brandishing a cup of honey water like proof of a quest accomplished -
"it's not that i don't love you, it's that you're so hard to love."
i wonder what she thinks she gains by teaching her beloved child that she is unworthy of what she has given - i only shy away further from all touch, now, instead of inviting closeness.
and i used to ask her what she was watching and plop down beside her, trying to share in the fun
but i don't know, today, i just mutely watch her from the doorway, transfixed on her drama, Alone, Alone, Alone,
and pass by the door, heading for my own room.
the car crash of those words had no crunch zone and i am the one who crumpled, draining the cup dry, offering futile honest words
"i know, i know, i know" you have done such a great job of teaching me this lesson, you never had to put it in words to get it through.
fruitlessly, helplessly, uselessly, difficulty, i have bated my breath and baited myself. i have bared my soul to this ceaseless thought of not being worth company.
i accepted it, but this sin surpasses all previous sins - if you don't love me, i beg of you, just never tell me that it's because i am me.
banishing the hours of the quiet night, i switch on the radio and go to sleep. i also know that you have your own issues, dearest mother of mine (i say this without bite), i know that your mother does not love you enough and so you do not know how to love.
i agree, finally, that i am allowed to be loved, I give assent to the me quarreling within for rights.
Oh, i can't stop loving and questioning and hoping for understanding. i hope you forgive me, mother, for not blindly believing you when you say that I'm hard to be loved -
there is someone who loved me regardless, so i know it can be done. on that day that i was love, i was handed the proof that i am alive and not merely a ghost, clutching at the documents printed with the signature and stamp of someone willing to be responsible for my life.
there is paperwork, so i can prove it.
one woman's trash is
another man's
treadmill, thread, treasure
i am fine with being your trash
as long as there is one person in this world who looks at me and sees the glorious tides swishing around buried treasure
i can stand up, straight, again. after everything. accidental compromises. vast misfortune. majority disbelieving.
i went back to sleep peacefully. the creamer in my coffee speaks an ancient prophecy - even if you mind, you will be loved - and this holds me steadfast like an anchor in a storm or an x in a treasure map.
staying sitting in this room, I won't fall because I am ready to be found and I am freed from wanting to be quiet like the surroundings of my hurt that I hadn't realised was there.
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creatingnikki · 2 months
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you tell me you don't like poetry. that you prefer a messy text with bad grammar but authentic emotion. and I smile and tell you that my poetry is a lot like that, a list of drunk texts at 2 am I never sent the person I wrote them for. minus the bad grammar. but authentic emotion? but words that aren't pompous? expression that's human? that's what my poetry is. and now at close to 2 am, I want to send you some texts. authentic emotion. lower caps. lacking punctuation perhaps. but what would I say? I'm not drunk. and I'm not in love. maybe one day you will read my poetry and wonder if in another universe we would know each other better and how wonderfully authentic that would be, how spectacularly human.
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waitingforthesunrise · 10 months
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I got a gf today and I'm feeling like I'm about to explode...
Love, I think we're stories
or maybe songs. I think we've crossed paths
in symphonies and similes.
and oh, the fire in my chest...
know I'd bleed for you. know
I'd cross the mountains and lie, with my back to the earth.
all the stars would have your name
and they would be honored by the likeness.
I think
the page is new and the melody beginning, dearest
and the only thing sweeter than the future is your smile.
I've dreamed no grander dream than you.
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abrighterspark · 2 months
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don't you fall for the prince charming trap...
if it looks like it's love but feels like an act,
break out of those bars and take your heart back.
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deuteragonized · 1 year
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the way he says my name
is like free verse poetry
far surpassing the old masters
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wordsbyjenpoetry · 2 years
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If he can show you his vulnerable core, he can show you true intimacy and connection. And there is nothing more beautiful than this.
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