tylerknott: Another Typewriter poem.  No re-dos.  I Love that.  Just because he’s the kind of poet that takes your inner hopeless romantic by the hand, makes them smile and then gives them a high-five and tells them they aren’t alone in this. 

tylerknott:

Another Typewriter poem.  No re-dos.  I Love that. 

Just because he’s the kind of poet that takes your inner hopeless romantic by the hand, makes them smile and then gives them a high-five and tells them they aren’t alone in this. 

(via tylerknott)

How Many Winters?

tylerknott:

How appropriate,
I thought to myself,
that our ancestors
measured life
and measured age
and the passing
of time
in the number
of winters
that had been
endured.
Only through
the frost
and the freeze
can we truly
fall in love
with the
warmth.

-Tyler Knott Gregson-

Cinderella

mikefrawley:

I heard you’d given up on love
Cinderella never say never
time will dry your every tear
broken hearts don’t last forever

Soon enough the sun will shine
when it does I hope you’ll see
I’m no prince, still I’m the one
your lonely heart is safe with me

Love can often be a painful game
and that damn fool played his part
I pray you’ll trust me nonetheless
for I will never break your heart

Irony of Loving Me

keciasamethystheart:

I could fall in love with you
you just have to make me
you would have to crawl around
in my brain
knock over the furniture
Burst the windows in anger
Leave me a mess
Leave me speechless
Leave me
and I will come running
after you with my heart
in my hands
Love on my sleeves
I could fall in love with you
you would just have to
Love me first

stay

loqui:

just a while
just enough
to catch our falling breath

don’t look
as i change
just promise
you’ll still listen

if i change the tone
of my voice
it is only
to near
the surface

if i come out
looking worse
then hand me honesty
honestly

there are words
still left unsaid
before the clouds burst

and if it pours
you know
you can always, always
stay

here

write-handed:

Poetry is
more than
shiny words
or phrases,
more than
line breaks,
rhymes, or
s p a c e s.
It breathes
and sings
and hangs
from strings
tied neatly
to
  our
    secret
        places.

Peach

tylerknott:

Isn’t life funny
that some days
you know with confidence
that you
are the peach,
sweet and full of
life
while on others
you suspect
with quiet apprehension
that instead
you
are the bruise
that is so
carefully and
meticulously
eaten around.

-Tyler Knott Gregson-

poetictears:

am i too broken, to love again

my heart is full, but i won’t open it anymore

it’s a shame, my love must stay locked within

because you walked away from my tear stained skin