820
820 by RobHulkSmash April 18, 2016
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820
Here I am awake
Poetry I try to make
As all I think about is you
And how I want that soon.
A smile I see
As I think of what you mean to me!
One day will come
Oh how much fun!!!
For now I will close my eyes it seems
And see you in my dreams
In arms I will be
How happy that makes me!!
Poetry I try to make
As all I think about is you
And how I want that soon.
A smile I see
As I think of what you mean to me!
One day will come
Oh how much fun!!!
For now I will close my eyes it seems
And see you in my dreams
In arms I will be
How happy that makes me!!
820 by Just a girl with 💔 May 1, 2023
820
always carries a story—
a story meant to remind you
that you are on the journey of 1111.
My dear, were you born in the Year of the Tiger?
Why did you appear in my dream as a tiger—
a white tiger,
beautiful, majestic, rare.
Wherever I went, you followed.
Suddenly I woke up.
In my heart, I felt it was you,
but I didn’t believe it.
I told myself:
the feline family represents femininity,
and I fell asleep again.
The dream continued.
I was in the tiger’s cave,
in its embrace—
gentle, playful, and magnanimous in presence.
A constellation of signs telling me it was you.
The white fur was not purely white;
it carried a temperature of pale blue,
reminding me of
18
Never once did its claws emerge
from between those beautiful paws.
Look at your hands—
I always do,
especially when you write.
And so many more signs...
my heart wants that dream
in waking life,
in your face.
I am alive
for that day.
a story meant to remind you
that you are on the journey of 1111.
My dear, were you born in the Year of the Tiger?
Why did you appear in my dream as a tiger—
a white tiger,
beautiful, majestic, rare.
Wherever I went, you followed.
Suddenly I woke up.
In my heart, I felt it was you,
but I didn’t believe it.
I told myself:
the feline family represents femininity,
and I fell asleep again.
The dream continued.
I was in the tiger’s cave,
in its embrace—
gentle, playful, and magnanimous in presence.
A constellation of signs telling me it was you.
The white fur was not purely white;
it carried a temperature of pale blue,
reminding me of
18
Never once did its claws emerge
from between those beautiful paws.
Look at your hands—
I always do,
especially when you write.
And so many more signs...
my heart wants that dream
in waking life,
in your face.
I am alive
for that day.
820 by From Saint Agnes to Egypt February 1, 2026