I hated him,
fought with him,
threw words sharp enough to cut.
I called him a psycho,
as if he was
and he—
he just nodded,
as if guilt was his to bear.
He took my beatings,
my storms,
without a single strike back.
And when I broke,
when tears came like floodwater,
he didn’t turn away.
He pulled me close,
patted my hair,
and whispered,
“It’s okay… I will be with you.”
That was the moment,
like Tom understanding Jerry,
we stopped being enemies—
and became something more.
A dance among the crashing waves
The turbulent sea on the shore
Rolling with white sand
The fragility of a body in pieces
In footprints that have left behind
The wind blows on the waving strands
Like a dance in the shadows at the edge of the beach
When fingers clasp
The waves run
Clashing against towering rocks
Playing with dreams at the end of the day
As if the sun will never go away
Your shoes are getting shabby
over time and the story that has been spun
Do you still remember the drawing paper and brush?
I painted the colors that were dark at the time
Then we drew together
In flowing, abstract strokes
Ahh, I remember so well
The field across from our classroom
15 years old in the drizzle
The first piece of cake you took from my hand
And a book that made us dizzy
We were still so young
With hearts clean and untainted by love
Still pure in the grip of friendship
Will you remember it well?
Two young people now fragile in adulthood
And if I reach out
To just be friends again
At least we won't fall into despair
Make room for Him - the God of miracles,
He is a wonder, mighty in power.
Our God is multifaceted, with many Names,
Lord, Saviour, Healer, Baptizer, and Deliverer.
Rose of Sharon, the Lily of the Valley,
He is who He declares - I AM, the Lord.
This season, He is moving with certainty,
On our behalf, His Hand wields Heaven’s sword.
When we whisper His Name, His Spirit will rise,
Stirring our souls, commissioning us anew.
His favour shields us with angelic eyes,
Unlocking our senses - sight and hearing too.
He moves in ways mysterious and rare,
With lightning, thunder - miracles everywhere.
She is the mural painted on barrio walls,
stories in her curves, rhythm in her calls.
Colors of abuela, the fire of the street,
a masterpiece rising where cultures meet.
But art needs a frame — firm hands, steady eyes,
men who don’t compete but safeguard the prize.
A frame holds the story, keeps memory tight,
protects from the weather, the dust, and the night.
Alone she’s the art, brilliance untamed—
but her power shines louder ’cause he is the frame.
Glory to her hands that stitched the green,
That sought the pieces of a love torn wide:
For her strong grief, a river spilling light:
For her sharp magic, beautiful and keen,
That found the fragments and refused to hide:
And knit his broken body back from night.
All things lost, scattered, shattered, and undone:
Whatever's broken (who can say why?):
She holds the pieces, breathes them into form:
She births the sun from what was not a sun:
Let life begin.
Before the void happened to me,
you happened, or more precisely your voice
came across oceans
—Fate was feeling kind that day, I imagine,
with your voice she weaved
a lifeline, pulled me back
across black water—
You happened, and the void,
while still there, doesn’t pull anymore.
The murk can no longer devour
when you are twilight, a
soft-lit haven against nihility.
In the lone, moonless night, a polaris—
I reach out with both arms
and no passage plan
—You’d take my hands, wouldn’t you?
Before the void took mine,
I found you.
Summer never stood a chance
against us, when even
in the still air our hearts flutter—
There will always be thunder
and rain, you said.
But in being in love with you
—It’s a slow dance, you and I
in crystal air, rain or clear,
under blankets of stars—
In your eyes there are
sparks only love can light,
softness only love can touch.
A lifetime worth of words—and more,
but they can wait, I want to
blend your touch into my ink first.
You asked why I fall.
But I didn’t—
I saw you, and I jumped.
I would’ve lived on
in a life composed of shades—
Black, white, and million kinds of gray.
Pulsing hearts rarely made sense
when even blood was
the shade of cooled cement.
That’s why you’re a mystery—
Your eyes are vibrant, water dancing
in a grace I cannot name.
They look like celestial crystals—
like if heaven has a shape;
Your hair warm, like autumn
before wind grows chilly.
It reminds me of maple leaves
I inked to seal fall’s harmony;
Your smile stirs—something
in my paralyzed soul.
like a gentle thunderstorm,
but instead of rain you leave petals.
The irises caress every
fiber on my skin, the electricity—
Then I knew:
You are color.
You are poetry.
You are the flustered butterfly
whom I felt across the sea.
A warm apple night,
moonlit tunes sprinkle around us
like snowflakes in July.
I collect them with open pulms:
silly dances, smiling eyes,
tightened arms when time felt too fast—
in the fabric of cider air.
The city wore coal dust, but
he smelt of cut grass and
noon lake so serene—
I dreamt of bluebirds from the west
eager for new water.
Green leaves as tonsils, for our
eternal midsummer.
The crescent settled
behind you, wrapped in silk night,
wearing jasmin orange behind her ears.
I wondered: if she overheard
our brewing midnight; could she tell?
From the gleaming stars in my eyes
that I’m nothing if not a sailor
lost in azure, in awe
of treasures shimmering silver.
In the heat of silence, could she hear?
The pounding, quickened steps of
spring, sprinting across time—
Frogs break free from their winter hide,
I hear blushed wings hum
impromptu tunes of perfection, and kisses
that felt like summer grass’s touch.
Sealed, in the envelope
addressed to spring when she catches up.
is when you play your mother’s
favorite song, in a strange city.
The cement road tickles like sun-kissed grass.
is who you see in the mirror
every time tears run without permission.
In the salted blur, you can taste sweet blueberries.
is what the sun carries
oceans away, the love that nurtured you
basks you in warm wishes from the land of pines.
is how the city’s lights flicker when you’re
in the mountains, if you squint—
Imagine, in your reach, reflection of a galaxy.
is where white flowers peek through
cracks on a brick pavement.
Different lives, but same life—
a foreign land, yet one sky.
You look like a Viking
Or like a Greek god
Not my usual type
It’s actually kind of odd
You’re masculine and kind
Like yin and yang combined
Sound body, sound mind
Just a man so refined
You have a sweet smile
And a great sense of style
Gonna think about it awhile
As I melt into this pile
And when I hear you speak
Of course it makes me weak
I follow the sound of your voice
Now there’s redness in my cheeks
I block out the noise
And I try to stay poised
But I crash and burn
When will I learn?
You’re crafted like a work of art
An inspiration from the start
Whenever you’re near or we’re apart
Thoughts of you whisper to my heart
I want to tell you how I feel
But you’re not mine for me to steal
Your heart belongs to someone else
You’re under another lover’s spell
There’s nothing I can do but pout
She’s a lucky girl without a doubt
I can’t ever say these thoughts aloud
So I’ll just lay here dreaming on my cloud
I am your love
And you're my soul
They are much adhesive alike
Making our hearts close
I heard our heartbeats
Sounding strong and loud
They are solidifying the toughness
In the boiling crowds
I could be a stream
You are of the flow
Together we're wandering in the fields
Growing love and souls
I could be an angel
Flying in the sky
Having you're around me
I always follow your guide
You're my love
I am your soul
we are together a scene
growing love and soul
Couldn't have dreamt this,
His tender first kiss,
Nibbled his lips,
Kissed my fingertips,
Kissed molasses hair,
Love his kissing flair,
Kissed a thousand times,
His mouth just rhymes,
Our attraction,
Love in action,
Lip sync bliss,
Love his kiss,
Kissing sublime,
Withstood all time.......
Specific Types of For Him Poems
Read wonderful for him poetry on the following sub-topics:
anniversary, birthday, falling, feelings, good morning, goodnight, miss you, love, rhyme, sorry, thankful, valentines, waiting
and more.
Definition | What is For Him in Poetry?
Poems Related to For Him
baby daddy, best friend, boyfriend, cuddly, for her, from the heart, funny, funny love, love, my boo, passionate, romance, romantic, special friend, sweetheart,