Love poems for hopeless romantics; I'm the poet and you're my muse.
I was your little lover, the girl who had love to give. Remember me, remember us We met under that palm tree, you were doing chin-ups
By Lucy Lim8 years ago in Poets
I am light and you are my battery I am weightless and you are the gravity that grounds me Your love astounds me If I could show you the emotion
By Nicholas Goodman8 years ago in Poets
My first instinct is to defend. Can you blame me? I grew up with boys. I learned never to turn my back on anyone. As soon as you do you
By Emma Dalzell8 years ago in Poets
His eyes threatened me to my knees To pay piety to his majestic dagger My alter ego is let loose, she aims to please She beckons wildly as her tongue climbs his ladder
By Natasha Wilson8 years ago in Poets
There are faces in my head. Ones I don't remember yet. People quite often turn up dead. There are memories in my head. Ones I'd like to forget. People aren't what they seem, quite often turn out mean.
By Baby Pat8 years ago in Poets
Cool night air kisses her skin like a lover In her arms she could wish for no other As tongues meet and duel Adding to passion’s fuel
By Stevie Seber8 years ago in Poets
Your kiss still lingers, a ghost on my lips. It leaves me more lost then ever and only adds to the internal conflict. I sit here alone,
By ROXANNE ELKASSIS8 years ago in Poets
From the first kiss I knew That this could be trouble But still I could not resist The temptation I felt All Because of one kiss
By Sharika Jones8 years ago in Poets
Northen Nights Playing over in my mind Being so drunk with you laying by my side Watching your mouth inhale that special blend of "coffee"
By Abigail Rutherford8 years ago in Poets
i was very close to never knowing who you were. i was very close to never enjoying your laugh, and how it sends chills down my spine.
By yolanda abarca8 years ago in Poets
She was in pieces, yet he perceived her as whole. It didn’t matter what she told him, he thought he could play the role. He approached her, only the best intentions in mind. She shot him down, and left no bullets to find.
By Vanna Skeith8 years ago in Poets
But it sounds like me, doesn't it? My voice, bleached bright yellow or orange Will still vibrate the same wont it? I'm afraid, dear, I won't miss myself once I've wandered off again.
By Bethany Inniss8 years ago in Poets
