The fires of passion burns hot at first.
Uncontrollable explosions of lust and longing,
Sensual heat,
The flames encompass every waking moment.
At some point, fuel is no longer abundant.
Starved of oxygen, the passion dies.
The flames become invisible.
The fire stops.
It's embers bear witness to history.
Will a fire survive on history alone?
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bryanrobertheap - the online troubadour. Kik: bryanrobertheap
I have this theory that the more important and intimate the emotion, the fewer the words are required to express it. For instance, in dating.... “Will you go out with me?” Six words.
Love is exciting. Love is thrilling. Love is exhilarating. Love is two people in the here and now. Love can be dangerous. Love can be frightening. Love can be tears.
~Another poem I wrote for school~ ~Also received a B~ ~About a SUV (Mainly a Land Rover)~ ~My favourite poem out of all the ones I have written~ ~Enjoy~ Not a red, heart-shaped box, full of...
For some it takes a life time, For some it's but a sigh, For others they must wait their years, And days as they crawl by.
I have no solid definition for this word. this feeling that can take over your every being and kick you to the ground and pick you back up all at once.
I've got a clockwork heart. It works just the same but it sets me apart And it's running away In the hope that it mends. It left me a note, says it'll be back one day. Away, away, away.
I dropped a link in my chain, One of the most important of all. The one that gave me freedom. The one that meant my happiness wouldn't fall. But that link had to go. So my chain could be split.
I threw a bottle in the sea,. Inside; a tiny piece of me,. Set adrift on a falling tide,. Left to waters vast and wide,. A small slither of my soul,. To leave me with a tiny hole,.
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