teenwriter

Oh, My Love

Original Poetry

Oh, my love,
if ever you feel like stars do not quite
shine bright enough,
or the sea is too deep for you,
or you are suffocating in
the silence around you,
remember me.
For I will risk all I have
to rescue you.
I will paint the moon into the sky,
just to see her reflected in your eyes.
I will help you swim, and I will
keep you afloat even when you tire.
Oh, my love,
remember me.
Remember that.

Escapism

Original Poetry

Silence deafens me,
but at the same time,
all I can hear is your voice.
You’re everywhere and nowhere
with intense destructive capabilities.
I cannot escape you,
nor do I wish to.

Leaders Of The Wolf-Pack

Original Poetry

Tongue-tied
on the sunrise.
He was going to kiss me,
but it didn’t feel real.
His hands on my back,
we were leaders of the wolf-pack.
When his lips met mine,
we knew we’d got it right.

Predator and Prey

Original Poetry

The setting sun,
the shining stars;
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
A hand on my back,
A stroke of the neck,
A love affair between predator and prey.

What I Think Of, When I Think Of Him

Original Writing

When I think of him, the first thing that comes to mind is the intoxicating sensation of being high. High on life, on love, on him. His lips are something I crave at 8am and at 11.30pm. His touch is something I miss the most in the sun-dazzled haze of a lazy summer’s afternoon. The soft caress of seduction brushing across my lips over and over again, a hand tracing its fingertips up my leg, a smile through the kiss. When I think of his eyes, I think of a soft summer sunset married with hues of honey.  I’m subconsciously aware that I might drown in the ocean of his being, yet I’ll readily dive into the deep despite not quite knowing how to swim. During the day, I want to rip my heart into shreds and watch the little pieces float around me as I look on in despair; at night, I want to put all of those pieces back together, taking no notice of the blood on my hands and the stains on the hem of my skirt. The sweet, dulcet tones of our incessant need for closeness fill the air when he nears me.

This is what I think of when I think of him.

Chipped Nails and Claw Marks

Original Poetry

Chipped nails and claw marks on my heart,
raw wounds cracking as the light turns to dark.
He whispered “I love you” softly into my ear,
I shuddered to think what he had in store for me here.
His touch dripped with venom onto my skin.
I was forced to stand there and watch the end begin.
As the distance (between us) grew,
long gone were the “I adore you”‘s
just
that girl, who is she?
YOU MAKE ME WANT TO SCREAM
The heavens, they cry out,
the love of their distressed creations now cast in doubt.
With my head on his chest,
we sobbed – “We tried our very best.”