Love letters to you. My heart's quill continues its longing to write you out onto pages as words. I realized I can no longer resist it, for my heart knows what it wants and that's your heart. Flowers dance in my mind, as if I'm watching you cheerfully dance in a field of wild flowers. Your love lifts me off the ground and into the clouds, where I've found the best version of myself. Oh how you complete me Darling. So I'll continue writing about the flowers painted so perfectly on your skin and how your mind is as beautiful as a field of wild flowers vibrantly dancing in the wind. I won't stop wishing on those dandelions, for you aren't in my arms just yet but you will be soon.
•Artwork done by me, t.s.anon.
Had to eventually draw the flowers on her hands that I've been writing about.
Calling all emerging #writers ! The Masters Review 2018 Winter Short Story Award for New Writers is open & accepting submissions through January 15. Winning story gets $3000, publication, & agency review. http://ow.ly/Wzbl30he2Fr
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I want to feel the love of stars again,
the pull of want again,
the chase and thrill again.
I want that to endure.
I want to hunt you, fear you,
want you, crave you
and die for you,
I’m tired of the chase and Kill.
I want to chase and struggle.
A positive, strong, indescribability.
I don’t want to forget, ever again.
I just want that feeling to last.
I want that collision to be remembered and
recorded by historians and remembered by
how the earth shook upon our union.
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there was a time when
the slightest hint of our fingers brushing
would set my soul to tremors,
and I would want to blend our minds and bodies
together like two warming stones
you would ask me to kiss you
and I wouldn't answer,
just enfold your collar to my handprint
and drag you lip-first
to leave trails of honey in my mouth
and sweet stains of kind bruises
in a heart march down my neck.
we were story book boy-meets-girl
just learning how to steam up a window
and figuring out what it meant
to put someone else before yourself,
and it lasted long cherry-coated months
until that night you saw me cry.
I poured pain against your shoulder
and you held me until I could breathe again.
you became so tired that
you put your head across my lap
and let me stare into your eyes,
and maybe it was the hour's late echo
but in that moment I knew every reason
why I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.
suddenly we weren't
cherub paintings on some
chasing each other
and dying for a connection.
you know just how I like to be held
and I've memorized the blankets
that you sleep beneath.
when you reach for my hand,
though I no longer feel sparks,
and I don't come to you anymore
expecting to feel like a kid in love
for the first time.
I come to you expecting
to feel like I've come home.
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