Click here to add this poet to your My Favorite Poets.
Cristina Geanta Poems
sad for all the time my embrace was empty of you sad for being stubborn to be sad sad for touching objects baring your presence
i have my personal justice written across my pulse constant thoughts and very clear needs my personal justice is just that: personal like a thief whose money you're carrying
For My Special Secret
if we could only let our fragile souls fly away from all the limitations away from all that is made to keep you waking up
My heart is pulsing lava thick burning pain through my veins I woke up to the hurting
i want to look into the happy eyes of the past and humilliate myself between tears of self pity.. go suffocate on the moon.. little, stupid and proud..
what was on your mind? 'i can't touch her with cold hands' between us was not the place for tenderness still you couldn't help it..
The Proudest Girl In The World
one day there was a proud girl not so proud as scared of the new rules she was raised by the old ones, she believed in the right things to do.. you seemed wrong..
optimism is not rare it just has rare causes sometimes we choose to wake up happy in the morning
i know magic i'm everything you can see in yourself and more i can mend all over your soul and let you feel safe i hold power over you, you put me in charge, nothing could go wrong
u were meant to fall and break every rule left in my world destined to leave traces.. or maybe scars, you decide
Just one more...
Give me just one finger And hold her in your palm Embrace me
I hate diplomacy! ..
I hate diplomacy Hands are of no use tying, The heart will find a way to win.
From one to infinity
Would you tease If I said 'Kiss me... please...'?
don't you love tango?
we were made to stay whithin reach but not to reach out slow passionate dance.. too close.. too far.. constant bitter-sweet t e a s e...
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
sad for all the time my embrace was empty of you
sad for being stubborn to be sad
sad for touching objects baring your presence
sad for not touching you...
sad for re adi ng your name everywhere i turn
sad for all the blue jackets other men should not have worn
sad for all my weak spots left to be weak
sad to open my eyes in the morning
sad for a cruel truth not even dreams can survive
sad without dreaming
sad of nothing to hope for
sad for still seing beautiful things worth for you to know
just what she is not