Love itI feel your hands in my hair.More Like This
I feel your breath on my neck.
I feel your body pressed so close to mine.
I feel your lips on my throat.
I feel your hands move to my back and your lips work their way up to mine.
I feel you and I love it.
I hear you say you love me.
I hear you whisper my name.
I hear you tell me I'm the only one for you.
I hear your breath in my ear.
I hear your soft snores as I fall asleep.
I hear you and I love it.
I see you as I run into your arms.
I see your face break through my world of darkness.
I see you fight away my fears.
I see you wipe away my tears.
I see you're in love with me.
I see you and I love it.
I taste your lips.
I taste your tongue.
I taste your throat as I kiss it.
I taste your love.
I taste your passion.
I taste you and I love it.
I smell your colone as I hold you.
I smell your shampoo as I hug you.
I smell your toothpaste as I kiss you.
I smell your excitement as you cuddle me.
I smell the smell I've been waiting so long to smell.
I smell you and
BibliophiliaAll the writing featured below is literature I haven't read but fully intend to because of how promising the preview is.More Like This
To all the books I haven't read:
I have become your bookshelf
of dusted titles and busted spines
with arms that are full of fantasy
and romance and a head full
of memoirs I haven't written,
their lexicon curling my tongue
around five dollar word-plays
just behind the sheaf of my teeth.
With definitions straight to the point
and description airy and lofted
a dictionary defenestrates pages
I Am Four Things A Woman Should Not Be... by Pencil-Wolf looking for the moon by learningtobefree
that whirl into the night, petal
papers gliding like elegant
prose in a blank journal.
The Barricade by BloodshotInk Once Upon a Nightlight by Synesthi
There is no table of contents
to map your way; follow the veins
ink leaves in the margins of my palms
Confinement by ladysiren482 valleys by brassteeth
Child. by Liedy :thumb4548
PhobiaBehind the fireplaceMore Like This
there was a body.
I knew it straight away,
though it was barely a husk,
the exoskeleton reduced
to the shell of a shell.
on the back of the neck,
So today in Waterstones,
Upstairs, poetry section -
I pick your book out at random.
Read the first poem, it's good.
Turn to the cover to see who.
I could not buy your book
could not touch the cover again
with its mound of corpses.
summertime, and the livin' is sleazySummer is starkMore Like This
and unwilling to lift
its weight from our throats
maybe that's why
everyone is so damn angry.
even the trees have not
outgrown the scars
of the hangings
when I open my window
the house deflates like a balloon.
pssssst, you can even hear it too.
I am left with thighs
that peel from the leather,
I am left with skin that sags
and bad sex to weather.
He creaks like cracking concrete
when we fuck and I can't bring myself
to love him in any way that requires
my touch or facing him front-on-front.
I hear people keep dyin'
on your side of town,
I hear the gunshots
and pray to God that you find a way out.
poem while doing laundrynow, the sun sets a little later every nightMore Like This
people see me who have not seen me
sometimes in visible wavelengths,
sometimes in deadly ones
Death (XII)spring here means:More Like This
sundresses in Harvard Square
pancreatic cancer for Will's aunt
an old friend graduating, soon to be wed
spring here means:
changing your name
spring here means:
leaving, coming back
braiding your brother's hair
everyone's dog dying
some girl drinking
hair growing out
Prophecy in Sonnet, Self FulfillingAt first refrain I'll bound you to the skyMore Like This
an open book, some distant wish-for-more
sweet hopeless wanderer of tragedies.
Cry not for arbiters of grief; not for
us broken things. We haven't wings like yours
nor worlds within our reach. No, you should live
undaunted by an anchor's weight. With stars,
my love. And in the second verse I'll write
what fool I've been, with blind and barren mind.
I'll ask the gods for gravity again
and only then, with conscience lost, abide
to hear your song: a landlocked lover's hymn.
But once the star-light touched your skin, you knew
my oceans would not hold enough of you.
how are you?I wouldn't say I'm unhappy,More Like This
on some sunset Chicago's glass
caught fire and most days drag between
highlights: I see him often,
he makes me laugh,
I am no Sylvia Plath.
My ego won't reflect from
every pale face,
but I am tired of living
in a reel,
when we missed the exit I wish
he'd kept driving.