his love is a palace
i swear it.
his eyes are like bluebells
like the ocean at high tide
like whirlpools
his cheeks are like creme brulee
with cinnamon sprinkled on top.
i've been thinking about how
most love poems compare people to things
but oh, nothing is good enough
to compare to him.
it feels as if Earth herself was created in his image,
like all of it is describing him.
how can someone
be so utterly divine
and in a room full of people
still choose to smile at someone like me?
we are
everything and nothing that i could have hoped for
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the archives - a poetry portfolio
PoesíaA light buzzing distracts you from whatever you're doing. There is an old, weathered monitor on a table next to you. You could have sworn that it had just *appeared* out of thin air. Out of curiosity, you stare at it for a moment. The screen flicke...
