popatemyheart1994

Your hot hands like needles playing on my skin, Scratching at my surface to see what I hide within. Your hands underneath my clothes, underneath my skin, Like bolts of ...

I liked this poem because it reminded me of the awful state my room is in :( I totally get what you mean though, I would much rather write all ...

I liked this poem, I felt that the rhyming was a bit weird in the first stanza, but that can be fixed. I loved the rhyming and the language used ...

I really loved this poem, I clicked on it because the title drew me in immediatley. I was left with a sense of longing at the end of this poem, ...

I loved this. Read "Insomnia" a poem by Sylvia Plath, I have a feeling you would love it :) xx Well Done xx :)

Mother, Do you know what I see in you? A book, a broach, a pearl or shoe? I see myself through your eyes, When you close them, I close mine. ...

I loved this and related to it so well. I related to the parts in reference to the father. I liked the use of language and certain phrases such as ...

the homeless man on the corner watches everyone walk by with blind and self-cataracted eyes, ignoring the begging cap full of air and the visions dancing in front of his ...

I relate to this poem so much. And its weird your sixteen and a boy aswell. You know what Im going through man! The sad part is I haven't got ...

Thankyou! Have a great new year!!!!! :)

The sun. Harsh and cruel it shone through my window, magnified. It awakened me to your betrayal. Yes a betrayal! You ate them up, one by one, little white pills ...

I found this poem quite enjoyable, although not what I expected, I love the way it flows and you demonstrate a very controlled and high quality style of writing, which ...

Hey guys! I'm back after a very long spell of writers block, Ive posted two poems in Other Poetry, be sure to check them out :)

Image is my life, I only go skin deep. Without a brain, I'm looking good but I find I cannot speak. My heart is made of plastic, it beats an ...

Can we fall in love this way? The whiskey pours, we decide to stay. We sit and drink And stare And view Mumbled words are sacred and few. You say ...