204 Quotes About Love-poems
- Author Kamand Kojouri
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I was mistaken when I said you live in my heart. How absurd I was when you live in my fingertips so that everything I touch is you. How foolish I was when you live in my toes so that everywhere I go there's you. How senseless of me to say you live in my heart when you breathe in my lungs, walk on my mind, and drink in my mouth. I came to pen another poem for you, but even every unwritten poem is you.
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- Author Tatjana Ostojic
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I covet him.His hot body over mine,sweaty and smelling like grassafter the rain.I want to live that moment of Erosagain and again and again.Never having enough of him,the masculine image of me,a piece of art,unique masterpiece of God,that is calmly sleeping beside me.
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- Author Kamand Kojouri
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Like the cotton-carder who combs tangled cotton into a long bundle of fibre, you take all my knotted fragments and comb them into light.
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- Author Kamand Kojouri
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Fall in love with me and I will immortalise you in my poetry. Fall in love with me and I will worship each of your lashes like Divinity. Fall in love with me and I will take you to the peak of explosive rapture daily. If you haven’t already, I dare you to fall in love with me.
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- Author Kamand Kojouri
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These five words you utter make the sun rise again: “I’m going to come home.” How is it possible for one person to be the sole reason for my existence? When I hear you say these golden words, the warmth spreads from my stomach until it reaches my pulsating fingertips. How is it possible for one person to be the sole reason for my ecstasy? These five words your utter are even more precious when I’m holding you tight and you whisper only four of them. Because then, I’m really home.
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- Author Kamand Kojouri
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Writing poems is simply an excuse to remember You.
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- Author Kamand Kojouri
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Poetry is jealous of you tonight, for as soon as I come to pen a few words, your perfume attacks me in the most civilised manner and I forget myself. I forget the poem. I forget the ...
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- Author Kamand Kojouri
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I write our names on the page.What of it, if the paper will be burned?I write our names in the sand.What of it, if the shore will be washed by waves?I write our names on trees that will be cutand benches that will be painted,but what of it?I will keep on writing our namesbecause in this world of ephemera, You and I are the only constant.
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- Author Avijeet Das
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We will read books together inside the blanket and stay warm. And keep writing poetry in our respective journals. Time will fly but we will still remain inside the blanket forever.
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