#poems about love
‘Finite’ Poem
Written by The Silicon Tribesman. All Rights Reserved, 2020.
About Love When I was five I asked my mother about love. She scooped me into her arms and spun me around, her laughter filling up the room. She said love was like a red, round balloon; there was a part of you that wanted to hold on to it, a part of you longed to see it soar into the big, open sky. (…)
Sea of Strangers / Lang Leav ———————————————
Which one do you prefer, the knitted background or the floral one?
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A beautifully written poetry and prose book, including my favourites: Keys to the Kingdom, About Love, and Revenge!
i’m laying on his bed;
but all i can think about is the tiny bit
of wallpaper that is scraping off
in the corner by your bedroom door.
he’s cradling my fingers;
but all i can think about is the time
we were talking about the universe and
you absent-mindedly started
tracing stars on my hand.
he’s nuzzling my neck;
but all i can think about is the beautiful mark
you left on my collarbone after we got drunk
at 3am and snuck onto your neighbour’s roof.
he’s caressing my cheek;
but all i can think about is the cold touch
of your fingers that night and
i knew that you had slipped into the darkness
again
and my thighs weren’t warm enough for you.
he’s kissing my lips;
but all i can think about is the curve on your upper lip
and the time we made out for hours
and how you left a horrible taste in my mouth afterwards
because you had gone through two packs of marlboro that day
and how i stayed
even though you gave me every reason to leave
and now i can’t be in bed with a beautiful boy
who likes the way i speak
because all i can think about
is how chapped you left me,
just like your lips.
when you miss their hands on your thighs,
but not the way they never called you before going to bed;
it’s not real.
when you miss their fingers through your hair,
but not how they stayed up playing video games all night
instead of lying next to you;
it’s not real.
when you miss the longing stares shared at 3am
on their tiny bed, but not the crease around their eyes
as they tried to say sorry for the thousandth time;
it’s not real.
when you miss their legs wrapped around your waist,
but not their pleading voice as you walked out their door;
it’s not real.
it’s not real.
it’s not real.
it’s not real if you just miss their skin pressed against yours,
but fail to remember the many nights you spilled
your guts out onto the bathroom floor;
the nights you held them because the world was caving in
and they looked at you with soulless eyes;
the words that you threw like daggers
and your shared bed became a battle ground
and your love bites turned into defeated wounds;
it’s not real.
stop convincing yourself that it ever was.
I hold onto your memory like scrapped paper and broken rubber-bands// You never know//I might find a use for them again
-Junk Drawer Heart-
“I have resolved myself-I can no longer lick old wounds; despite how they make me howl.”
-Canine-
“You thought you could wade through the water to me. That I would be waiting on a rock in the sun. You stepped into the waves, a fresh sailor in white linen. I lured you in with my song, deeper and deeper I called to you, shimmering like a pearl. But suddenly I am only the shadow of a cloud. In the shade of my love I have left you; strong enough to tread water but desperate enough to drink salt.”
-The Siren’s Song-
you give me your body willingly, but i want more than just the shell of you. you hide behind walls you’ve built in your bones. you’ve settled your secrets into the cracks, you built a bridge just to burn it down. you only let love in halfway, keep a safe distance between the skin and soul. you’ve laid chest to chest, but never had your heart face another. don’t you crave to spill your sorrow? you are more than a carcass gone cold, more than silence in sheets. you say you are mine but there’s an absence in your mind. you are half human, a heartbreak waiting to happen. i stand staring through the windows of your temple, praying you’ll let me in. because god knows, there’s more to love within.
A Guy I Once Knew
Autumn eyes,
You remind me of a guy I once knew,
His name no longer rings a bell within my mind,
But I do remember the day when he turned twenty-two,
He told me that he adored the freckles dotted on my cheeks,
I laughed and told him that those freckles were rather gold specks,
He chuckled with his deep dimple smile,
And asked me what’s next,
I told him that his eyes were like pumpkin spice and colored leaves,
“Why do you say so?” he’d say,
“Because those things are – warm,” I’d shyly reply,
His smile grew larger as he told me that I was so cliche,
But he is now just apart of the past,
My memory of him is now buried deep within the library of my mind,
In a book labeled, “Autumn Eyes,”
The pages within his book are sloppy and unlined,
But I don’t know why autumn still reminds me of him,
I guess warm feelings never go away,
Those warm autumn feelings,
Is still with me till this day.
~ heart2heartwritings
@/christophermcgeownwriting on instagram
I found a person who’s able to carry my love, without it spilling over. I found someone who can hold me.
- MK Ireland #270 : i found you
So I guess this is our new destiny: a connection fated to walk in parallel lines, never touching.
MK Ireland #269 : intersection
I don’t know how to hold you as anything other than my everything.
So we settled for nothing instead.
MK Ireland #268 : what we lack
The love I have for you is bigger than anything I’ve come to know in this lifetime.
S.A // It might swallow me whole, and I’m okay with that.
I just want to feel him.
To feel his arms and his warmth;
Knowing that he loves me.
I just want to feel that,
and let him know that I love him back.
S.A // Conversations About Love #10
