#seeking love

[loveseeker98]

Do you like me in the dark, in the shine of neon lights?

[midnitetears]

#198

When I lay in bed

and close my eyes,

it’s always you

who finds me there

my future love,

my almost,

my not-yet.

I drift into the life

we haven’t lived,

but somehow feels like memory

the home we’ll build,

the laughter that will echo,

the quiet moments

only we will understand.

I dream of tears too,

but not the kind that break

the kind that fall softly

between smiles,

born from a love

too real to contain.

Us

you and I,

through every storm,

every sunrise,

every fragile, beautiful in-between.

I see it all so clearly

in the dark…

yet morning comes

like a cruel awakening,

pulling me back

to a world

where you don’t exist

not yet.

And that’s the hardest part

to open my eyes

and lose you again.

Because I don’t just dream of you,

I long for you

to hold you close,

to feel your heartbeat

find its rhythm in mine,

to breathe you in

like you were always meant to be here.

To exist

beyond my dreams,

beyond imagination

into something real…

into someone

I can feel,

Someone …

I can finally call mine.

Yours Faithfully🌻

[wordsofwisdomandsoul]

[samiaelsaid]

BANKSY LOOKS FOR LOVE

IN HELL’S KITCHEN.... October, 2013 ❤

https://t.co/ftIRgbVLVV

[dbaydenny]

Looking for one more

ghost to haunt me when love ends

beset by each pause

of dejection hope demands

to dance wildly one more time.

.

D W Eldred

[mvaljean525]

My father used to tell me I'd have wings. I was the golden apple of his early Need. He spoke with gods, (had dispensation Or intercourse, I don't remember which); I was very young, his fledgling. He taught me To fear the claw of falcon and forget My mother who'd been dead for several years.

My father was clever and much involved; he scattered His days away from home. It was hard for a child Whose cup was filled with time. I lived for the hours We spent together. Instead of a kite he made The wings. As I think of it now, it must have started As a game to please a boy: but games without humor Become the occupation of a lifetime.

The wings were a shock of perfection, like bones of bravery As I tried them on, fixing the hooded helmet Safe with agate to my head and the disks Of quartz upon my eyes. I rose, and thin Prophetic wands of music stabbed my ears. Perhaps I had reasons for taking the journey: youth, Ambition, the fire to be free. But to fly

In the face of convention was a nebulous preparation. He was a good father, constrained by more than Pride of execution of personal achievement. Not that I wavered for a moment, or saw Disparity between his resoluteness And my own resolve, but somehow the weight, The change in atmosphere, the pressure of

Departure, all contrived to stop my breath. It ended and began beyond the realm Of documentary proof. But let me say this: My father was a good man. He stepped upon His heart and broke it when I died. My father Never believed a son of his could function Imperfectly, or fold his wings and drown.

----

A Masque for Icarus

Marcia Carlson  

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Graphic - Jonathan Queen

[wildflowers-and-cottonpillows]

Two Broken Souls Seeking Love

You and I were meant to be

Trust me darling I can see

Us standing there

On distant shores

Holding hands not wanting more

But this could stay, just a dream

Cause I think you’re, too good for me

You’re so perfect in every way

And I’m just a dying bouquet

Of wilting flowers, once blooming bright

Now silent cries in darkened nights

And I’m just waiting for the day

When you’ll get up and walk away

Cause you can’t take my dark thoughts

And of those, I have lots

But that’s where we, make a mistake

Quite ironic in a way

you think I’m too, good for you

But darling that’s, far from true

if you’d hush the goodbye and stayed for a while

You would see, that you and I

Are actually quite alike

Two broken souls

Just seeking love

That they think they’re undeserving of