Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
fray narte Nov 2019
metaphors can't fit
in the distance
between your freckles
and petals made of words
blooming from your lips
don't look like
aphrodite,
born from the seafoam.

your eyes look nowhere
like a map of constellations
sprinkled with
my favorite phrases;
they're not even the color
of my favorite coffee,
or the ink I use
when making my blotched poems.

similes,
paradoxes,
they don't even
run in your veins
or arteries.

and yet curiously,
seeing you still feels
like reading poetry.
Kitt Nov 2019
Take me out on a Saturday night
and show me the world
kiss me under the stars
as Venus looks on, blushing
and Mars pumps his fists into the air.
dance me to a chamber filled with
Erotes, and sate their hungry appetites.
wrap your hands in my hair
let me swim in your Nymphetic waters
let us soak in the reverie
and lap up one another's salty waves.
close the distance between us
and rouge my skin with your claws
let Suada have her way with us:
let her persuade us to let go
of Minerva's harsh rule
and give in;
succumb.
Let us remain in this lush place forever
or at least, until Rome falls around us.
A M Ryder Oct 2019
Just as perfect
As the music is painful
They took their time
Piece by piece
Placing every star
Casting out the constellations bright
And you alike
To the furthest reaches
But never too far
These perfect points set
So you never forget who you are
Lyrical Dream Sep 2019
she wasn't his world.

no, to him, she was so much more.

her heart was the sun,
bright,
golden,
shining on even the darkest of days
and bathing the world in its gentle warmth

her eyes were the sky,
deeper and more infinite than the sea
and bluer than the finest sapphire

her cheeks were the constellations,
dotted with dark freckles like stars
against her rosy skin

and she was the universe,

the universe and infinity,

infinity and everything beautiful between the tips of its star-speckled wings

she wasn't just his world,
she was his everything.
M Vogel Sep 2019
I see you staring off into space,  your trajectory
aimed towards a specifically-patterned constellation.
I am only the launch tower--
providing stability, support
aiding in your refueling  and the replenishment of your supplies.
Star-patterned destinations are your calling
and, I am just the launch pad,  
and its ever accommodating tower.

They say that a rocket expends fifty
percent of its energy just clearing the tower;
It is the final destination:  
not the clearing of the tower,
that your heart needs most

and holding you firm,  I know that as you lift off
I will  even now  be tempted to
reach out with one of my ever-sustaining arms..
that I may touch your gorgeous tail section  
as you fly clear of me

But even in the doing of that,  
I would change your trajectory
and the constellations would never come to know you
nor you, them

I am just a tower, love..
a platform,  constructed solely  
to aid you in your newfound flight into freedom:
a tower  to love you
and hold you steady,  
with a finely-built strength

until you are finally clear
even,  of me.

But I see you now, yeah, I see you
and release me now, kinda like dreams do
And I see you now, was hard to see you
Just don't forget to sing,

remember everything;
you won't go lonely.

https://youtu.be/YNbYx3_7Hvo
holding on,
letting go..

holding on.
never, fully letting go
Starry Sep 2019
As I look
At the constellations
After a bad day
I see the patterns in the sky
I real that
Everything is
Going to be OK.
it's just izz Sep 2019
she was not the sun
nor the brightest star

she was the quiet, unassuming moon;
gentle gleaming light that tumbled
through my window sill,

silver strands of mercury woven
through her starshine hair
that beamed

just as bright
as anything else in
this galaxy
Elena Basophil Sep 2019
Apparel of starry nights and twilight,
Tracing constellations among flushing nebular scarlet,
Eyes like stellar heavens on the sleepless idle nights.
Myka Sep 2019
There are stars in your eyes.
Galaxies, constellations.
Cassiopeia here.
Aquarius on your fingertips.
Andromeda in your palms.
Your heartbeat sounds like home
Your laughter reflects the crescents of the moon.
And your flustered cheeks are a haze of stardust and memories.
Good ones, the kind that you want to remember and never forget.
You are made up of everything beautiful.
Starry Aug 2019
When I sit on
the front deck of my
Housr
One September evening
I see
Seven moths
Fly up and form
What looked like
The Big dipper
Amazing.
Next page