Tag: Writing poetry about relationships
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I Don’t Want To Hear You
I Don’t Want To Hear You don’t you speak to me just go and leave me alone you have said enough
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You Look Good In This Light
You Look Good In This Light the heating comes on T.V. flickers on your face you look beautiful
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You Are Not A Morning Person
You Are Not A Morning Person it isn’t a thing, you know morning person it isn’t a thing you never hear someone say i’m an evening person or an afternoon person or a middle of the night person so there’s no such thing as a morning person the only thing a morning person is is…
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She Goes On More Than I Do
She Goes On More Than I Do She goes on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on She Goes On and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on She Goes On And On and…
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You Never Listen To Me
You Never Listen To Me whenever I speak you never listen to me and that speaks volumes
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That Christmas Feeling
That Christmas Feeling Today it begins Arguments and bad feelings Christmas is coming
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Incompatible Is Just One Word
Incompatible Is Just One Word so many problems a single word describes them incompatible
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The Room Where I Write
The Room Where I Write The tick of the heating, as it kicks in to life, chasing the cool of night out of this room where I write, comforts with more than mere heat. It is sweet and familiar and safe. This place is my own space, where there are no others to care for…
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Guilty Of Feeling
Guilty Of Feeling I don’t understand. When you treat me so badly, why do I feel guilt?
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The Little People
Raking leaves, the little man hums hymns to him, alone. His little wife, washing pans, watches what she owns. They can speak by sense of touch, their kisses make no spittle. Neither needs or wants too much, what they have is little. Two lives made of little things, made smaller by themselves. Thursday morning shopping…
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A Mystery To Ourselves
A Mystery To Ourselves When I kissed you as you left today, we were as close as we could get and yet we were still indistinct to each other, from one another, thinking different things together, separating. We had been so close that what was on you was now on me. I took your scent,…
Writing Me Up 