#spilled pen

[semjase]

She was the reason

why poetry was made,

and that is to adore

her deepness in every

mysterious ways.

Semjase 10: 11 / 09-23-20

[chuckakot]

Being a hand on your skin, or perhaps the one that brushes your back, like a soft caress, a faint in your eyes, the steady stream of imagination recoils, like a wind that hovers the fields, it is as if a mellow temptation instigates, sensually thriving, an opening of desire for the flesh, it is an ecstasy waiting to be born and do you think I have opened your secret doors, and what if I do, does it change anything?

Chuck Akot, secret doors

[siriuslywolfish-pg9]

Some relationships brew like wine.

Let them rest.

Let them rott.

Let them age.

And once they survive the worst of it, you end up with something priceless and precious. And you savour every taste of it. The fragrance, the texture, the colour. And then it's not simply a bond anymore, it's an experience...

[euesworld]

"Dreams of you invite my soul on a journey across the wide open space between us.."

Even in my waking hours I dream of your smile - eUë

[jiyaspoems]

give me back myself my empty heart

let me know the way back to the start

this path has been way too hard

feeling low like a black brickyard.

her hands are rough now.

said, swiftly goes the time

if so, won’t you tell me how

years have gone in a dime.

vaneca

[rosecaughtonfire]

A head full of flowers

With an approaching autumn 🍂

[pyrely]

[avv-ful]