Words unsaid

"One eye open. One still in a dream."

Heavy heart

Muse I must,
with no slate
to write
my hearts content.

It’s simple really.

In your arms,
I have found my home.

Where were you all along?

Two people, fumbling for words

“For once in my life I’ve got someone who needs me,
someone I’ve needed so long.
For once unafraid I can go where life leads me,
and somehow I know I’ll be strong.
For once I can touch,
what my heart used to dream of;
Long before I knew someone warm like you -
could make my dreams come true.
For once in my life I won’t let sorrow hurt me,
not like it’s hurt me before.”

- Sinatra

For once in your life you can rest your heart,
and be assured its taken care of.
For once in your life
you can build a home out of a person,
and know it’s permanent shelter.

For once in your life
know that you are home.

His no more

When my walls tumbled,
his footsteps grew faint
in the distance.

The word thief

The word thief left
with his words,
sewn tightly
in to a book
in the shape of my heart.

Borrowed words II


I want to sit with you on a lonely beach
and dig my feet into the sand.
I want to lie down flat and hold you tight
cause I want to be prepared.
I want to know the date,
I want to know the time,
I want every memory down.
‘Cause the day I hear the four letter word
I don’t want to leave the ground.

Some heros are masked wordsmiths

It’s not just you
But it’s not just you alone anymore too.

I don’t love you for what I see
I love you for who you can be,
Who you want to be,
who I can help you to be.

You are too much like me
I am your friend. Yours to unleash.
Use me.
I want to be the hero Gothem needs

Some poems are just beautiful drivel

image

- S.

Bruises

My heart
has been bruised
too many a times.
Don’t beat it up
again.
Please.

Borrowed words


I am not good at poetry
but for her I will write.
I will listen to her while she talks
about everything that has happened  in her life.
I watch her as she turns,
I wait for her eyes.
That birthmark reminds me,
of everything special and unique in her
has just come into my life.
I am so fucking scared,
if that book was the beginning of her love;
I might not survive it’s full force.
But I hope I am strong enough,
cause I know it’s worth that small plight.

Yours.

‘Don’t waste your time on me
your already the voice inside my head.’

Am I your ocean
filling your head with coloured noise?
Or the light breeze,
carrying whispers of the night?

Am I the gush of wind,
a tornado of emotions;
Or am I the quiet
closing on the gaps,
between the seconds of the clock?

Is my voice your morning concerto -
humming on the strings, 
reverberating on the drums
and clashing on que?

For a man who speaks so beautifully,
It’s a privilege, to be
the voice inside your head.

Three words ii

When a man writes poetry
I imagine,
the opening line
of his octavo,
starts with nine letters,
broken in to three -
I adore you.

Three words.

Beautiful words
strung on an invisible thread
of every day conversation.

“I adore you”

Outrageous

You are right,
I am outrageous.
But,
I am outrageously yours.

Stop and stare

He stopped.
He stared.
Eyes grew big.
Lips formed an O.

You ate me with your eyes,
while I sat at your desk,
slowly revolving,
one leg over the others.

I wore my black heels,
just for you.

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