Love Poems
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Winter is my wisdom,My horror and my way.Little kisses are there to land, themselvesUpon your long and gifted neck,That I admire to its porcelain texture.I am enamored by you, and all the despair you throw out,To your naked feet.Beautiful creature of all my savage wisdom,I will kiss you, until the end of every new tomorrow.
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Upon sticks and brambles, and everything taken from the trees,Love, we do, with our hearts spread, over everything new.Like two fossils, once beautiful and full of scenery.Like two trees, now collapsed, with kisses running overAs the remaining twigs that caress. I am in love, or had I ever been?We are, as we’d always been, split
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There is a waterfall beneath your eye,As though the eye pressed further into your head,To bring forth the liquid beneath it.I have seen you weep, a couple of times,And become drunk more-so on my own pain, for I caused your tearsTo flow more-like the lava from a mountain,Than ever a flow of water from a
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I turn over leaves,Among the winds of Autumn,And breathe in the dust upon your chestAfter you died.Then, after you cried,I knew it was only the rain that fell,Upon your cracked and weary cheeks,Made from marble,And that stone heart is mine,Among its surface, smoothed by the same wind. I will kiss stone lips,And bury my heart
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Breathe into me, your beauty for highest regard.I am the one who knows you so evenly.You have paint atop your breasts,As your shoulders twist in the wind, and bleed over meTheir pallid texture. I place atop your head, the many leavesThat have scattered in the Hell, frozen over at our feet.And you’ll blow one awayFor
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There is nothing greater, in my mind,Than to see myself lying flat,With a stream of crimson as my remaining color.Fertile, I am,In blood.And, to leave behind,All the water and land,New drops upon the soil, as other’s tears,For I’d care not, for their sadness,Just the dream I achieved, in seeing my end,By a stream, a current,
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As I once met a woman, near to a lake,Near to a shore,Near to a stream,With the most delicate of leavesTrembling, under the autumnal gazeBeneath her,And I.She gazed upon them, each of them,Washing along the delicate road,With her own delicate vision. I bereaved a new tear, down upon my cheek,With failure to my every word.Because,
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We have called Hell away from us,Indeed, we have.We have omitted the pain from our future,More than once.A little thing like pain has roasted our worn hearts,Until they both scramble to embrace the other,Acting with arteries as limbs,And blood as something to taste. I am in love with a womanWithout so much as a hue
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Beauty recedes with the push of timeAgainst its frail and vulnerable form.Alike when you called the breath of my sigh, to rub itselfAgainst your worn cheeks,Against where teardrops leakThemselves, downwards to your polished, ruby lips. We are both frail, with few things to remember,So why do you desire to see all else, corroded by blackness?A
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Pleasures sometimes, and only sometimes,Stifle themselves,Upon our walks through boarded passageways and times alone,When we may see the shores with its naked sands,Fused like longing upon longing.What will the seas become, without the sands beneath?As scarlet as your lips,We are lone with only our shadowsAmong depravity.We dwell, in faraway eyes, over those oceans, and their
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Sometimes, when the scar has seemed to heal,I reject its process to heal,By a singular motion of my right and dominant handTo tear it open,And release the tides upon my feet.I breathe the scent of iron,Soon as emotion is revealed, once again. I wanted to forget,And I wanted to forgive you,And yet, my strength had
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Roses delight themselvesUpon your parted lips,While teeth chew upon the tears that run from bluest eyes,You smile with a message that sends a roaring painDown upon my feet,Your face is a homecoming,One kiss would tear it off,So that I may see your truth. Rose petals loosen themselvesFree, from the buds that ensnare themselvesUpon your parted
Modern Romanticism 