Dusty• Show poetry

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ID RATHER DIE WITHOUT A DREAM, THAN DIE WITH AN UNFINISHED DESIRE"

True love can never be seen or rationally judged.
It is how you decide to love that makes it true and pure.

True love, like any other strong and addicting drug, is boring -- once the tale of encounter and discovery is told, kisses quickly grow stale and caresses tiresome ... except, of course, to those who share the kisses, who give and take the caresses while every sound and color of the world seems to deepen and brighten around them. As with any other strong drug, true first love is really only interesting to those who have become it's prisoners.
And, as is true with any other strong and addicting drug, true first love is dangerous." - Stephen King "Wizard and Glass"

You wont be his first, his last, or his only. He's loved before, and he will love again, but if he loves you now, what else matters? He's not perfect, and neither are you and the two of you will never be perfect. But if he makes you laugh, at least once causes you to think twice, and admits to being human, to making mistakes... Hold on to him, and give him all you've got. He is not going to quote poetry, he is not going to be thinking about you every moment, but he will give you that part of him, that he knows you can break. Don't hurt him, don't change him, don't expect too much from him. Smile when he makes you happy, Cry when he makes you sad, and miss him when he's not there. -Unknown

PAIN HEALS, CHICKS DIG SCARS, GLORY LASTS FOREVER.- Six- my allpoetry and real life friend.

One day we all find our own peace, and thats always at the end of a life.

The only time you really know what you want is when someone close dies. Then you realise how much of your own life you waste.


I Hope I'm Original. i know no-one ever is in the overpopulated worlds.

I'll add my favorite poem now.

Sonnet 130
by William Shakespeare.

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.

NativeSpirit- My Earth Mother - Greatest and kindest inspiration to humanity.

Bejeweledone- My Sweet Soul nurturing Sister - Always masterful in all of her written works.
http://allpoetry.com/Bejeweledone

My mate in the hood Jesse.
http://allpoetry.com/JesseSane

A good friend and great poet.
http://allpoetry.com/six-