The breeze is delighted to take your hair,
And slow dance beneath the summer sun.
A sight that forces the world short of air,
Beauty that shines bright, and aims to stun.
It’s deeper than cold blue eyes can stare,
Wound up in doubt your gaze has undone.
Or softer than your skin, white and...
Beautiful Poem
Oh how I want
To feel your back against mine
Your hair tussled across my face
That soft breathing in your sleep
There is such beauty in you
You always would laugh it off
But here all worries are gone
And that woman who stole my heart
Is at peace
Till I kiss you again
And again
And again
I loved the way his hand fit perfectly around my neck. The way he pulled my hair and whispered “good girl.” He was mine and I was his. His submissive.
Oh how I want
To feel your back against mine
Your hair tussled across my face
That soft breathing in your sleep
There is such beauty in you
You always would laugh it off
But here all worries are gone
And that woman who stole my heart
Is at peace
Till I kiss you again
And again
And again
I loved the way his hand fit perfectly around my neck. The way he pulled my hair and whispered “good girl.” He was mine and I was his. His submissive.
She was taken aback
At the image in the mirror
Caught in a caress of
A rose he had gifted.
Beauty loved the beast
But on some level knew
That deep down he
Was not truly such
A wretched ugly soul.
But would beauty have
Loved him still if all
He was was the beast?
Beauty sighed as she
Crushed the Rose
Shedding petals
As if they were tears.
The Beast howled and
raged in his cave,
sharp claws tearing
furniture and books
apart like tender flesh.
Beauty was drifting,
like an abandoned
boat caught in tide,
away from him… away.
He had thought
if he showed her
the Man inside
the Beast she would
love him forever…
But then sadly he
did not, could not
understand that
Beauty only loved
the Monster inside the
Man inside the Beast.
We delight in the beauty of the butterfly, but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, that’s what they say. It changes from person to person. Everybody has their own opinion and their own ideas of what beauty is. It’s got to come from the inside, it’s got to be personal. And if you are true and genuine, I find those beautiful.
b3hindcl0s3dd00rs
sleepinsidemysoul
“Tomorrow may be hell, but today was a good writing day, and on the good writing days nothing else matters.”
—
Neil Gaiman (via writingdotcoffee)
good thoughts for me to remember
