Poetry About Liking Someone Novels & Stories

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.

Love; the word felt as though it was too easily thrown from mouth to mouth, but his mind couldn't help but wander to the antiquated words of Edmund Spenser. "My Love is like to ice, and I to fire: How comes it then that this her cold so great-Is not dissolved through my so hot desire, But stronger grows the more I her entreat? Or how comes it that my exceeding heat is not allayed by her heart-frozen cold, But that I burn much more in boiling sweat, and feel my flames augmented manifold? What more miraculous thing may be told; That fire, which all things melts, should harden ice. And ice, which is congeal’d with senseless cold, should kindle fire by wonderful device?"

I will follow you like a shadow forever And move on like a railroad without touching. While walking beside you, I drench even without rain. This is a colorful poem called love, Written by my eyes. This is a story that is unsaid To anyone until now. Please vote if you like my story. Let me know your thoughts about this chapter in the comments section. I hope you enjoy reading -T

Liam is slow, mixing slow with a bit of wildness, leaving you craving whatever is beyond his lips. This is not our first kiss, nor will it be our last, because I adore everything sexually appealing about this man. How tiny I am in his embrace, and how nicely I fit. Me in his arms is like a two-piece jigsaw puzzle; it won't be complete until I'm in his arms. I maybe exaggerating, but that's how I feel.

The sight made me bite my bottom lip, trying so hard to restrain the quivering urge that wanted to escape from my lips. I wish I could just learn how to unlove you in the simplest manner and not to the point that I would be needing somebody else to forget you. You are my favorite person, but maybe, favorites do not really last— they were meant to be changed. I wish I could talk to you again the same way as we did before, for every little thing right now is already causing me excruciating and agonizing pain, and your words struck me like thunder and bolt of lightning that simply wants to destroy just about anything and everything.

I'm irritated to answer call after call if he just says it directly. "Do you like me now?" My throat immediately went dry because of Saint's question. I'm not sure if I like Saint. Because I know for myself that Psalm is what I like now. Psalm is a nice guy and it's not hard to like him. He has almost everything. He is close to being perfect. And it was hard to get him out of my system because he was the first person to make me feel special.

Eager to shelter her full to make her day The sole reason why I shadow her trail Touching her plump lips awakens my spirit Her beautiful voice brings essence to my ear Caressing her smooth skin under the moonlit Change the darkness of my night to disappear Needs of her presence are greater than seas The carnal of my longing far superior than eternity Abysmal feelings began, only craving to be ceased How could I conceal my feelings larger as infinity? " Once I was done reading the poem, I looked at Khloe, my eyes were already glistening with tears. The poem contained profound feelings in it. Each line pricked my heart as if the author was dying inside for seeing a person she cares about in so

"Have you met him before?" "No." "Then how can you say you like him?" "I..." Ryder started, ready to defend herself, but ran out of arguments. She wanted to say she liked the author because he wrote such beautiful books that made her cry and laugh because he wrote words that filled her heart with warm feelings... but that means she likes his writing... The person himself can be a total asshole for all she knows... in the end, Midnight had a point, but she didn't want to admit defeat. "Give me your hand." She ordered Midnight with a harsh tone.

The handle of the tap, by the way, has promised me to keep your fingerprints embossed on it… until eternity ends. I know the flavour of the mint, the sweetening taste of it, every drop of water from that wash-basin tap And I also know: you’re weaving a story, like I do On the other side of Luit. But she had said she didn’t like the poem. “Yes, I didn’t. Back then, I didn’t quite understand the point why you wrote it. I think it was a bit too early for me to connect the dots. But I liked that first line though.”

I’m your ice and you, my fire You light me up Give my heart the heat it desires Your love is red hot But don’t worry Blue and white are my favorite colors We match perfectly baby Heat me up and light my cold gloominess Though people say you’ll melt me I say some people are worth melting for Fire and ice ‘Baby,’ he said, cupping my face in his soft palms, ‘this is beautiful but, girl, I must warn you, I’m not a fan of poetry, I prefer prose. So, don’t be offended if I don’t share this interest with you. Just know that I think it’s a beautiful piece dear even though it is not the best thing to me.’