What you keep safe also keeps you safe— this is the spell, the conjuring between hearts, how we build bridges with unsteady hands, hoping with sometimes grim abandon,old heartbreak beating a broken drum, but the music between us is soft and new— listen, listen darling, to what rings true. #TinyPoem

"Heartache" Snow. Tears. Spun in ice from summer sun. Chest wound unbound, life. Again. Rain, But leaves blow away at storm's entrance. Somethings are always unintended chance. But heart. Lost. In single swing of days Nothing completely takes away. Heartache. #poem#poetry#tinypoem

Let it be honey and soft velvet, the shimmer of fog bracing its hands against the earth, serenity in the throes of passion, a longing so fierce that it is gravity and root— fill the cup, then drink from it, prayer and permission, this too is wild love, love wild as it should be. #TinyPoem

This is a love letter, messy and imprecise, a sweet song of words, part lullaby and part seduction-- I won't apologize for it, I am what I am, who I am, gentle and unrestrained, both miracle and mischief, wine and bread, this is my body, honey, what *are* you going to do with it? #TinyPoem

The scale tips one way, delicately, as if swayed by a breeze, but the heart knows better, always bracing for the river, the recklessness, the ache, the secret song of birds, cradled crows beneath your ribs-- breathe, darling, there is nothing to do but wait, see what heals in the silence. #TinyPoem

This want is a soft thing, but also hurricane and wolf, lightning across the whole damn sky, not timid or neat, just a miracle of mess, a mouth upturned, a hand outstretched, a steadiness that is sacred, secret, unspoken, and I wonder— how is my heart so full and yet so hungry? #TinyPoem

Sometimes, the Tower falls, and grief has too many hands, worry trails up your spine like fire, burning through bone without mercy, but the ache passes, the fire quiets, the nightmare folds in on itself-- remember that, remember the heart, remember every kind word, every soft hand. #TinyPoem

Sometimes, the ache is old, clumsy, a keening thing, a clinging cold, a quiet so deep it feels endless, and it flits like a bird into view, here and then gone, gone and then returned, a reminder of what was, the terror that it might happen again. #TinyPoem

Popular Recommended Agree to the terms Why not try We think you'll like We can assist you #tinypoem#poetry

Here’s to the small gods and open hearts, those who love in a single leap, who don’t hide or hold back, who don’t cower or quit, but stand tall in a storm, not a lighting rod but a lighthouse, defiant as dawn as it breaks against the night. #TinyPoem