• Love Poetry •
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He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest
1. I want you as you are. Every scar, every pound, every last beauty mark you call defects. They are a part of you and therefore, a part of ...
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i don’t see you as the mess you see yourself as— but even if you turn out to be all the things you warned me you were, you̵...
Maybe love is in New York City, already asleep. You are in California, Australia, wide awake. Maybe love is always in the wrong time zone. M...
You would always whisper, “God doesn’t need us,” but your mouth tasted like holy wine, skin like the paper-thin wafers...
Hearts are muscles. They get sore.
I will love myself for all the times you didn’t
I will remember your small room, the feel of you, the light in the window, your records, your books, our morning coffee, our noons, our nigh...
You are broken I don’t want to fix you I want to run my finger along the shattered pieces I may bleed a little And it will hurt But you’re worth it
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I’m clumsy. Yesterday I tripped over my self-esteem, I landed on my pride, And it shattered like an iPhone with a broken face. Now I can’t ...
why do you live in your body like you will be given another? as if it were temporary. you starve it, you let anyone touch it, you berate it....
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Every night, I think of you.
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I want you to know all of me. I do. The splinters, the tender places behind my ears. The open cradles of my palms aching for your heart.