Things (but mostly love)

Her hopes take flight, it catches starlight, it rides the night, it gives her dreams sight, for his love she will fight



He knows not his creed but it is burned to my tongue-
Like a tattoo by fate, open my gate and come


Please need me


I crawled on when my hope was gone
I saw sun but my eyes were burned
I found love where the hand was numb
I gave love when it would not come



He writes the most beautiful poetry
And I want to organize them into little treasures for my mind
An instrument of the finest wording and it starts with his rhyme
Pluck a note from me, as I’m slightly off key
It doesn’t take much to tune me when his writing is my shrine
He intoxicates me better than the finest wine


His words should come with a sign that reads, “do not engage”


So innocent was her love, so pure
The bouquet of poetry he would write would allure
It was love of this she was sure
In the afterglow of words she felt secure


Want a dose of paranoia mixed with anxiety? Well, if he is her and you are me and they are them, then who the fuck is she?


He doesn’t know it but he is a giant in my heart.


He was unaware of her worth
But there was something in her eye
And the look was divine
And it tasted of desire
Love sprung from the Earth



Everyone seems to be living such wonderful lives and I just want to hide in his eyes


He comes back for my love
When he’s lost his reserve
Just as I am giving up


Most days my soul is suffocating
Bouncing up and down
Flipping and flopping
Gasping for air
Frantic and in despair
Where is the life?


Silence brings violence


He’s not quite 6 feet but every bit iron foot


Just because you think I’m perfect doesn’t mean you shouldn’t tell me I’m good. Just because you don’t think I’m worth it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t tell me I could.


Death didn’t hurt. Everything else did.


He moves fast through my heart like rapids…


What I would give to be shifted to number one.


Love goes on through the seasons.

© Delia Ross. 2019