Mermaid’s tears
Oh how many tragic tears,
Must mermaids weep each day?
To leave behind the trail of gems,
Washed up on the shore in the bay.
Beautifully sculpted sea glass,
Is mermaid’s tears they say,
But it may be magical, mystical dust,
Sprinkled by mermaids at play.
Maybe the sparkling pieces of glass,
Were not really theirs to keep,
So every day, when the tide goes out,
They toss them back onto the beach.
Perhaps they’re being playful,
Teasing us into their game,
They sprinkle treasures for us to find,
Not to join them would be a shame.
My imagination is greatly piqued,
As I comb the beach, deep in thought.
Walking along the ocean floor,
To see what the tide has brought.
by Nancy Crossman
I love your weight, your height…I love how you smell, love your warm hand in my hand, love to touch you all the time) and love your short hair at the nape. Jesus fuck I’d swallow poison if it tasted like you.
Boy Across The Lake
Your lips taste how poetry makes me feel.
As I spill ink on these pages all I breathe is the lingered scent of your breath.Your hands travel my skin as if their wanderlust, for a different kind of lust. They travel me the way I want to travel the world, passionately and with excitement.
Your eyes set on mine like the sun sets on the sea and god it engulfs me like the waves on the shore.
Your soul is like music to my ears as it fills me with joy and light and makes me sing along.
You’re my favorite collection of atoms and the universe struck gold stringing you together.
(Источник: itskatrinamarietoo)
Lazy morning…
