Poems For Him Novels & Stories

", he asked. She had her head down and was crying. "I had a feeling it was too cheesy and amateur. This is why my poem are not beloved.", he said in disappointment. "No, I'm not crying because it was bad. That poem was really beautiful.", she responded. "Really?", he asked. "Yeah. It really made me feel special and it stopped me from letting evil take over. If nobody else loves your poems, just know that they beloved by me.", she replied. "Thank you, I really appreciate it. You are the only person I know that actually like my poems.", he said.

And yet, sometimes when the rain hit glass or a voice in a crowd dipped low and thoughtful, I’d hear him again, You shouldn’t hide your fire, Miss Lyn. He became a memory stitched into everything I wrote. So when I walked into the gallery that night, a charity exhibit celebrating urban poets and saw him across the room, it felt like stepping into one of my own poems. He stood by a wall of paintings, hands in his pockets, wearing a black suit that didn’t look new but looked right. A decade had sharpened him: streaks of gray at his temples, the same deep-set eyes, older now, quieter but not softer. And those eyes found me instantly.

She never wrote poems for guys and he would be the first one. So she started writing it on a sheet of paper. Vikram, Vikram, It's a surprise I met you. I thought you looked like a player, but now I know you can be loyal. I call you my sunshine, because I think you're mine. I don't call anyone endearments, but calling you became my sentiment. You think I cheated on you, but my feelings for you are true. You're the only man I write poems for. I don't know how I can make it mean more.

He was silent for a while before starting to slowly swirl his head from side to side and reciting. “Drinking deep into Autumn's night. “Feeling like puking the next day’s light. “Though I was annoyed and bored. “I lamented.” The minute he finished, he anxiously asked Penny, “Gorgeous Penny, my poem is pretty meaningful right? Do you think I have hopes of becoming the champion?” At his words, Jewel could not help but spit the candy in her mouth out before smiling and said, “Haha! Mister, this man’s poem is interesting. He just did doggerel! Haha!”

I beg him, reminded of his poems. He laughs. "Impatient much?" I quickly nod and watch him reach in the pocket of his tight black jeans he always wears and pulls out the piece of paper I have become quite familiar with. I snatch it from him and begin to read. And her heart had looked much further, Than her eyes had ever seen, She'd walked on words to places, Her two feet had never been Turning it around, I grin. Your favourite person "I'm assuming you mean my mother with this?" I ask and he lifts his brow.