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Literature Text
His words are bouncing off her
skin like raindrops in a summer storm.
Dripping and sliding off the bridge of her
nose and gluing her eyelashes into
dark triangles.
Her eyes are stormy and dark and words
tumble off her tongue and wrap themselves
around his neck, slowly squeezing tighter
and tighter.
They're breathing hard and their chests
are pounding with each beat of their
everfeeling hearts.
With eyes boring into each others they
are saying things that shouldn't be voiced
and shouldn't be heard and shouldn't ever
be said aloud.
I love you
The words splatter to the ground to
fall and sink to the bottom of mud puddles.
Her eyes are unreadable and her mouth is sad.
But as she presses it up against his it upturns
into a small smile.
And kissing in the rain never felt so right.
Literature
frozen romance can't be thawed
You: Antarctica, me: the sun;
this: frostbitten love poem--
my notebooks contain one-liners
capable of melting the coldest heart--
this is logic:
if global warming exists,
Fate wants us together;
have you checked
the weather channel
recently?
Newsflash: global warming is a myth.
Literature
Between Heartbeats
We hold in our kiss what you once called the beauty of a fading dream,
The light to what seems to be a way of desperation,
Or perhaps just one to break down my seams.
Your touch calls upon my skin waves upon waves of trembling need,
Leaving me in fear of your breath-taking little smiles,
A chance to lose my mind to this consolation of love in between.
But I'm the one who has been preaching the lack of beauty in a fading dream,
Lighting the light in making our own unfading dreams,
And to perhaps hoping to fall in love somewhere in between.
Literature
Conversations in the Rain
"At least put up your umbrella. Seriously—you'll catch your death out here,"
I turn to look at her, give her a withering look, and turn away. I lift and relax my shoulder blades, settling my jacket more snugly about me. The raindrops that cling to the water-resistant fabric scatter with the movement and, for a moment, I'm surrounded by a silvery halo. Then the little droplets fall and burst against the pavement at my feet, and the moment's gone.
There's an umbrella in my pack, of course. I should use it, probably. It's an old wives' tale that getting cold and wet will make you sick, but I'd never been able to convince her of that. She
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oh chewyy I love you buddy boy.
but you need to grow a pair.
oh chewyy I love you buddy boy.
but you need to grow a pair.
© 2010 - 2024 MessyMistakes
Comments34
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I'm kinda stumped.
I love this.
I want this for me.
Did I mention I love this?
I love this.
I want this for me.
Did I mention I love this?