The Soul Collector

Falling in love is so dangerous! Especially, when there's no proper school/class for it. But, the lessons love and heartbreak teach us, infinitely precious.

Isn't it just! Such wise words from you and I couldn't agree more...plus what would we have to write about if not love 😁

Thanks again lovely!

It's true, in one way, shape, or form love is my primary inspiration for writing.

Beautiful Boian no need to wonder I'm sure you already know 😁
Thanks again lovely 😘

Thank you for stopping by with your kind words and warm welcome :)

Great piece

Thanks and thanks for reading :)

This hit home...

Leaving herself vulnerable
Was all she knew
Lost in darkness
Now she's broken too > these lines are painfully beautiful... I know understand even better why you like Orchid!

I don't have more words other then: it's great to have a poetess like you on this site!

Wow thank you!
I am both elated and comforted by your words...and I don't like Orchid, I LOVE IT! :)

To speak the often unspoken thought and be brave enough to expose your soul is a wonderful gift.

Terry

Thank you, glad you stopped by for a read :) this is why I love this site...I can be me 'me' with nobody judging the other 'me' This made sense in my head haha 💜

That was.. powerful. Love can be such a beautifully tragic mistake sometimes.

Thanks for reading and yes this was definitely a 'beautiful tragic mistake' But unfortunately that I can't forget or regret :) haha 💜

This is fucking gorgeous deep meaningful write

Wow thanks your comment means so much!
Again written from experience this one glad you liked it :) 💜

Excellent write. well done. moog.

Thanks Moog! 💜

Why would you love someone like that?

Is a question I keep asking myself lol

Thanks for keeping it real LONDON-POETS 💜

I have always liked emotional directness in poetry. You have it a lot. Try to detach and combine the feeling which prompts you to write.

At the Primal Stage

First there was her,
The thudding of her blood.
He heard it
But does not remember.
A summons
Prodding him
Ever incisive
To make the passage
From there to here.


Then the passage itself
And the cord tight
The head swollen
The pincer thighs
Willing to crush
The monstrous thing.

After a day and a night
The host swooned
Then woke to hard loathing.
The thing squealed
A raging need.
Hunger for life.

So much for love
At the primal stage.