Poetry About Liking Someone Novels & Stories

She chewed thoughtfully, then pulled out her phone and typed: * I enjoy poetry. * "Poetry?" I repeated, raising an eyebrow. That was unexpected. "That’s new." She tilted her head, waiting for me to elaborate. "I don’t think I’ve ever met someone—besides a teacher—who actually says they like poetry," I admitted with a small chuckle. "I remember hating it in school. Something about reading Edgar Allan Poe in a monotone voice just didn’t do it for me." Lyric’s face turned a shade of pink as a mischievous smile curled on her lips. She quickly typed again and turned the screen toward me.

theater to take up some other, less dangerous occupation. I will love you if you drop your raincoat on the floor instead of hanging it up and I will love you if you betray your father. I will love you even if you announce that the poetry of Edgar Guest is the best in the world and even if you announce that the work of Zilpha Keatley Snyder is unbearably tedious. I will love you if you abandon the theremin and take up the harmonica and I will love you if you donate your marmosets to the zoo and your tree frogs to M. I will love you as the starfish loves a coral reef and as kudzu loves trees, even if the oceans turn to sawdust and the trees fall in the forest without anyone around to hear the

Aidah thought sighing to herself. “It's certain, relationships don't favour me...single life it is then." She said aloud. Adele's song " One and only " played on the radio as she sang to it. “You've been on my mind I grow fonder every day Lose myself in time Just thinking of your face God only knows why it's taken me So long to let my doubts go You're the only one that I want I don't know why I'm scared I've been here before Every feeling, every word

Your face is so exquisite that I forget how to speak, And with every visit to your beauty I become more weak. I wish that I could touch you like I do each time I write, If each caress could come to life and make you smile so bright. Your lips are so delightful, like sweet icing on a cake; Dear God, how much more endless pleasure can I slowly take? Darling, would you let me pay attention to each one? And with each kiss confess to you the things I would have done? Just the thought of tender bliss can render words like this; Oh, you are so beautiful, with love I am so full.

I plopped my elbows on the table, all my attention now focused on her. "Love inspires art. Writing poetry or doing any form of art is like falling in love. You feel this intense feeling and adoration towards something or someone and you either turn them into actions, paint them into colors, into sweet melodies, or into woven poetry." My eyes lingered into the midnight of her orbs that seemed to glimmer with constellations. This must be how passion feels like. To talk about something with a glimmer in your eyes. This must be how passion feels like. To adore that glimmer.

I was even jumping while wiggling like a worm. In the first place, I really liked Liam. I would never deny that fact. Oh, no! I am not sure if the word ‘like’ is the correct term to describe what I truly feel. Maybe, I already love him.

she said as she start thinking of the right words that decribe like. “So...?” I said nervously but secretly looking at my sister's reaction. "If we are close to someone we like, our hearts beat faster. It's not the like that, you just like her because she's gorgeous. It was the like that you like her having a company or when she's around. Your heart raced when you were with her," she said, as if thinking about someone. "Sometimes liking someone is just because you think highly of them, and other times liking someone implies you're truly interested in them," she explained before reapplying ointments to my back.

‍ “Peop‍le stop li⁠ki⁠ng‌ di‍fficu‌‍lt pe‍ople‌.” Li‌a‍m thou‌gh‍t abo‌ut it. ⁠ T‌hen said, “Liking somebody and l‍oving s‌o⁠mebody ar⁠e⁠ n‌‍ot alw‍ays t⁠he same thing.” S⁠he looked confus⁠e‍‍d.‌‌⁠ He smiled‍. ⁠ “‍Ther⁠e wi⁠ll be days p‍e⁠o⁠p⁠le annoy you.”

“You just don’t get it!” Jamie huffed, glaring at Mona in frustration. “Liking someone—even if he doesn’t like you back, even if he doesn’t even know you like him—that feeling alone can be happiness.” “Really?” Mona murmured to herself, then looked at Jamie curiously. “So… what does it actually feel like, liking someone?” Jamie, pleased to finally have the upper hand, straightened with a smug little smile. She spun across the garden path, graceful as she plucked a flower and lifted it to her lips, smiling as though she were on stage.

Sera “I love you more than I thought I could ever love someone. You are more than I’ll ever deserve.” I thought men who spoke like that could only be found in romance books. Real-life men were hardly poetic, especially the ones in my vicinity. More often than not, romance was not in their wheelhouse. I never thought I would be so lucky to find the man who did.