Bruised, beaten, shaken, weakened, tossed, thrown, lost, alone, heard, helped, healed, hope… it still works.
If you say something as if it were, that isn’t, is it considered a lie, or speaking it into existence?
Your heart beats between the palm of my hand.Its need to beOne with meDripsBetween my fingertipsAs I squeeze perfect drops of love into small receptacles to be preserved…For later. ☕️
Tickle my heart with your pen. Write me for all to read. Bind our love inside a book. Make me your poetry.
I don’t want what love is. I want what love is supposed to be.
Can still windmills, still produce wind? Can a heart still love, when a heart no longer is?
Tonight, can we just pretend that you want me too?
As a man thinketh so is he? The faith of a mustard seed? I planted these words in my thoughts, and still, mind wound up lost, between my dreams and reality.
I write amongst the stars, and the canvased paper moon. I paint the fields of green, sprinkling morning dew. I teach the birds to sing, a tweet, a tweet, times two. And when my busy day is done, I dream sweet dreams of you.
Your heart beats against the palm of my hand.Its need to beOne with meDripsBetween my fingertipsAs I squeeze perfect drops of love into small receptacles to be preserved…For later. ☕️
Tickle my heart with your pen. Write me for all to read. Bind our love inside a book. Make me, your poetry.
I’d give you my heart, but you’d just give it back, so I’ll give you my words instead.
Nothing, is what it appears to be, when it’s only with your eyes you see.
the caress of each word becoming one with the pagetwisting beneath the touch of the pen forming a trail of permanent kisses until they reach me
Poetry without words, you are, the beat to my hearts rhythm.
even in death, his last breath was poetryexisting in the wind and on the breeze of”it used to be likes” forever remembering,yet never relivinghis lifewill never be what it used to be like.
Must I wonder if your thoughts are of me? If you are missing me, wanting me, creating heart beats and poet-less words for me? [ i do…]
A person who plays the game knowing he will win, doesn’t impress me as much as the person who plays the game even though he knows that he might lose.