imperfect poetry

poet+reader

[oozins]

NOT EVERYTHING FEELS LIKE SOMETHING ELSE

[your-imperfect-poet]

What is love if not threading your soul into mine?

forgive me, for I only know intense love.

[geryone]

Fauna, Richard Siken

[perfectquote]

“Maybe I was being too picky. Maybe I didn’t want to be close to anyone. Maybe I’d just be the type who couldn’t feel love all the way or something.”

— Deb Caletti, The Secret Life of Prince Charming

[thelondonzhiloh]

[your-imperfect-poet]

nostalgia is a rose flower. Although beautiful to look at, if you hold on too tight it might cut you.

you cannot escape the memories

an original

[your-imperfect-poet]

I will remain kind.

I will

I will

I will.

[moonlitmourningjournal]

[your-imperfect-poet]

I know I shouldn't allow myself to become someone I am simply not after I get hurt. but how couldn't I? it's like blood that soaks through my clothes - they will always be stained

an original

[your-imperfect-poet]

we can never go back. we can fight the thought all we want but it will never be the same. we could never be who we once were.

[your-imperfect-poet]

maybe we will meet again later on, and there we can sit on the porch after we've painted our kitchen wall together

[valentina-poem]

[fromdarzaitoleeza]

Web weaving about the untold story in you !

[your-imperfect-poet]

I fear not even a bullet will make my heart flinch, not after what you put it through

[your-imperfect-poet]

My heart yearns for your love, my soul yearns for your presence, my body yearns for your touch. But my mind being the wise one, only wants to forget.

why did you have to leave?

-Kimberley Mellors

[your-imperfect-poet]

I loved you with all my heart, it was so full of you that it was basically yours. so why is it that I still have so much love for you even after you've left?

[your-imperfect-poet]

"please stay" I desperately whisper, begging on the knees that are used to being bruised. I've done this before, many times. But everytime I forget that I am able to plant flowers on the graves of the people that have have walked out my life. I forget that despite having a large cemetery in my heart, there is a much larger meadow that grows above it. That is my spirit and no one can take that from me. The loss of a person will not be the loss of myself