Poems by Wahid Moore.https://speakmoorepoems.com/https://speakmoorepoems.com/poems/shallow-water/https://speakmoorepoems.com/poems/shallow-water/There’s an ocean inside me but you only see the surface. You think you know me because you can count the ripples on my skin.Sun, 18 Jan 2026 00:00:00 GMThttps://speakmoorepoems.com/poems/near-miss/https://speakmoorepoems.com/poems/near-miss/Our hearts collided like comets, but our orbits were all wrong. You were racing towards the future, while I was still decoding my past. We tried to synchronize our clocks, but your seconds were my hours, and my days were your heartbeats. Time became a language we couldn't translate. I wanted to build castles in the clouds, you needed roots in solid ground. Our love was a beautiful impossibility, like trying to catch starlight in a jar. Now I understand why they say timing is everything. Because loving you taught me that "everything" can still mean "not enough" when the universe's gears aren't aligned. I'll carry this almost-love like a pocket watch, ticking away the what-ifs and could-have-beens, always wondering if somewhere, in a parallel world, our timelines finally intersect.Sun, 11 Jan 2026 00:00:00 GMThttps://speakmoorepoems.com/poems/thorns/https://speakmoorepoems.com/poems/thorns/She stands in front of that mirror like it's a portal, painting on yesterday's face, trying to rewind time to the girl she thinks I ordered off the menu. Concealer thick as secrets she buries deep, lipstick bold as the lies she tells herself in the dark, foundation layered like walls around a heart that's already open wide open, baby, and I'm already inside, living in the rooms of your chaos, your contradictions, the places you hide because you think they're too loud, too much. You treat love like a runway, strutting polished, filtered, flawless, thinking only the pretty ones get chosen, get kept. But I'm over here, addicted to the way you argue with your reflection voice cracking like thunder before the rain, your laugh a shattered chandelier still sparkling as it falls, the way you hold grudges close, pressing them to your chest like unsent texts that say I still care too damn much. You're trying to be the sunset everyone photographs soft, fading, safe. But I met you in the eye of your hurricane, winds rearranging my whole damn world, furniture of my ego flying, and I never wanted shelter. I fell for the storm that loves like destruction and rebirth, the kind of disaster that leaves you breathless, alive, begging for more warnings I ignore. You keep handing me the answer sheet, perfect scores, no mistakes, when I'm in love with your questions the ones that linger, unfinished, your ellipses pulling me in deeper... You warn me your edges are sharp, that they'll cut if I get too close. But I've been writing in blood since the day your thorns met my skin, learning how to hold you without bleeding out, how to grip beauty that bites back. Your sharpness isn't danger it's the way you carve space for yourself in a world that tries to sand you down. Stop blooming just for their vases. I'm not here to pick you clean. I'm here for the entire garden roots tangled in dirt, weeds fighting for light, thorns guarding the roses, the whole wild, unapologetic plot of you.Sun, 04 Jan 2026 00:00:00 GMT