the patterns i traced along your back
the warmth i found within your hair
the security i felt within your hands
the laughter i stole from your smiles
the dreams i searched inside of your eyes
and all of the words i clutched closely to my chest

i simply love you -
what more can suffice?

Countless imaginations intrigued,
by words pouring truth and honesty.
The beauty in a picture painted...
Only tired yet wilful eyes will get to see...

Scars of a battle surfacing.
Like dreams clouded by storms.
Willingness to face another fight.
Only deafened yet persistent ears will listen for a new melody.

Strings of gambles played...
Blind faith committed into hapless
deals of cards.
Looking for the win amongst a sea of losses.
Only weary yet perservering hands will find the missing shards.

Obstacles portrayed,
as struggles form and hope seems to crumble.
An almost misplaced determination,
tattooed in these hands.
Only apprehensive yet courageous legs will continue to trudge forward.

The heaviest blows...
Inflicted on the frailest bodies.
Taking the brunt of such callous words.
Only the battered yet ernest mind will prevail sheer follies.

Deep laboured breaths...
Wheezing through seemingly punctured lungs.
Seeking a steady rhythm amidst internal chaos.
Only the worn yet steadfast heart will escape unscathed from bitter tongues.



rinnette
**ryn

There are times in my life
When all I want to do
Is to disappear
No plans
No questions
And no recriminations
Just disappearance
To nowhere

                            By Phil Roberts

Our hands rise
and the street leaps.
Our eyes lower,
the heavens collapse.

From our unspoken pain,
a tulip tree grows
mysteriously behind us.

From our cherished wishes,
a star rises
just beyond our reach.

Do you hear the bullets
whizzing around our heads
guarding our kisses?

The sweetness
of your glance
never ends.

No birds fly south
from your eyes;
no avalanches slide
from your *******.

In the paradise
of your sight
the sun never sets.

These are your lips
I return to your neck.

Your blood
burns in my heart.

Everything remains.

You're hungry for good music with great lyrics.
You're hungry for late night talks.
You're hungry for art and you try
to feel it in every cell of your body.
You're hungry for knowledge.
Philanthropy.
Empathy.
And a bunch of others complicated words.
Oh, and you're hungry for that too,
I mean words,
especially if they are in a
Edgar Allan Poe poem.
You're hungry for little gestures.
You're hungry for true and extremely loud laughs.
You're hungry for history.
You're hungry about a lot of things, but you're
not hungry for love.
Because you already fell for all those stuff
you're hungry for.

She longed to love
today she loves
with all her love,
a different kind of love
the love that the world needs
over and over

I am not saying she doesn't love
of course she does
she loves in a different love than
the other love
a love that her friends know

She's full of love
the love they love to receive
the love that colors your days
the kind of love that loves to love
the biggest of loves

With all that love
she still longs for the love of lovers
the love for the love of
the love for the insanity of
the love for the recklessness for
the greatest of loves

She's full of love
but longs for that love
the one with the brown hair
and the hazel eyes
that
kind
of
love