I find you in the poetry of lovers.
I find you in the fierce auburn of the rising sun
demanding to be felt before it is seen.
I find traces of you within the strands of my hair.
But above all, I find you
in me.
In the glimmer of my eyes
when they shine at the sound of your name.
In the essence of the blooming spring.
In the empty space
between my fingertips.
poet
– Anonymous
PoetryMaybe the wolf is in love with the moon, and each month it cries
for a love it will never reach.
– K.J
PoetryWhen the layers subside
and the fortune is empty,
the pigment of our days
will echo pure
and I will be nowhere
if not with you.
18.03
Original PoetryLovers don’t finally meet somewhere,
they’re within each other all along.
– Sylvia Plath
LiteratureOut of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.
Lady Lazarus
A Lover’s Arrogance
Original PoetryI wear his name on my tongue
with pride,
and his scent on my skin
with arrogance
– Hafiz of Shiraz
PoetryI wish I could show you,
when you are lonely or in darkness,
the astonishing light
of your own being.
– Pablo Neruda
PoetryAs if you were
on fire
from within,
the moon lives
in the lining
of your skin.
Ink-Stained Fingertips
Original PoetryI am made
of the poetry
my fingertips
bleed.
Falling
Original PoetryJust like leaves in the autumn and snow in the winter,
I fall for you over and over again.
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