#poetrycore

[vamp1regirl]

[444leafluckyclover]

‘lucky to meet you’

Through out our lives we connect with people of all different forms. Some of these people become a part of who we are. Our souls intertwine and this is what I consider a soulmate. A soulmate can be the best friend you meet for coffee every morning, the cat your family adopted when you were 8. But most importantly, a soulmate can be a lover.

When I close my eyes and consider my soulmates I see many beautiful faces, yet one stands out and flickers between everyone as a reminder of passion in the pit of my stomach. My soulmate. My lover. He is soft, and warm. He is gentle and patient, he has shown me respect. I’m unlearning negative behaviors, unweaving childhood traumas. It can be ugly and rude. But he is there, calm, holding my hand throughout what life brings us. He hates to hear me say, but I’ve never met anyone quite like him. He glows with an aura so bright it can be blinding. I have finally began to believe in life in a way I hadn’t before, he shows me I can believe in myself, in us, in unity. He can be careful, and planned, but he is Home. Being guarded only means you’re being safe. And safety is the feeling of his body close to mine, heating me up and bathing me in his light.

I’ll continue to meet soulmates throughout the rest of my physical life. My soulmates will meet soulmates. But one thing is true, he is for me, and i was lucky to meet you.

[mossaged]

They say the land remembers. I believe it.

[xblueeyedwolfx]

I don't want casual, let's play it by ear, I'll see you when I see you.

I want life altering devotion, hands that won't stop searching, primal urges begging for domestication.

Put a straightjacket on my wild.

[reverie-muse]

The more I read her writing, the more I love it 🩶

[cyoot]

who could ever love a soft liddol dolly

who cant even love themselves....

[wordsandmorewords]

viola.

I dreamt that we were lying together, and I was first to rise.  I leaned over and kissed her naked shoulder as she still slept.  

Thinking of her with such tenderness was unforeseen.  Though the animosity of our split was faint, it was nonetheless existent.  

But there I was in the quietest of moments, adoring the simplest of things.  Her skin felt like the petal of a small viola, an ever so subtle velvet.  

Henceforward, this will be the memory.  I hold flowers dear; I will not uproot her from the soil for a selfish bouquet; I will admire her from afar; I will let her sleep, and demand nothing more.  

[moss-covered-fences]

its like bile.

always there, ready to go out. just needs one small bit whether you know it or not

always there threatening to scream and tear through you. so tired of fighting it.

clawing my own throat ripping my teeth out i want to fight and bite

hurt others hurt myself  just hurt

i want to hurt like ive been hurt stop feeling like prey stop being hurt

lash out and become the hunter the one who gets to hurt