Cecelia Francis
Cecelia Francis
Jun 11      Jun 13

Pine for you
like Friday evenings.

Revel in you
like Sunday afternoons.

And gone now, am left
with endless Monday mornings.

May 17

weekends are made of
and pain.

passion makes us do things
like fall in love with strangers
on a two day binge
doing unspeakable things
to one another
making our bodies cringe
moments of pleasure
we'll both soon forget
but living fast is fun
the best time spent!

Monday always forbids us
introducing the heartbreak game
you used my body
and I forgot your name

weekends are simply a fantasy
with their share of pain
"it was nice knowing you,
glad you came."

#love   #sex   #fantasy   #weekend  

Waking up in a hazy fog
Regular Sunday Morning
It is Sunday right?

Bits and pieces of last night rushing to the forefront of my mind
but a feeling that there's a missing piece of vital information

aaaaaaand there's a stranger next to me
she's so still!
she's alive
God I hope she's alive
My jeans are still on so we obviously didn't do anything
wait why are my jeans ripped?
Did they come this way?
No they didn't
did they?
my shoes are still on too
well at least one is anyway
where the hell is my other shoe
how does somebody lose one shoe
losing a pair is actually more understandable

I should probably go wash the glitter off my hands
wait why do I have glitter on my hands?

aaaaand I have a black eye
who did I fight?
probably got my ass handed to me
or maybe I beat up an asshole!
no probably the former
I can't fight for shit

My head is killing me
part hangover
part concussion

I should probably call somebody
help fill me on what the hell happened last night
Aw shit where the hell is my phone?
wait where the hell is my wallet?!

Well fuck... shitty memory, comatose stranger in my bed, ripped jeans (although I'm 73 percent sure they came this way), missing a shoe, glitter hands, black eye, sore head, no phone, and no wallet

I fucking love saturday nights

Ah the weekend has arrived.
Feb 7      Feb 8

After working so hard at school, I get a full two day's to relax, rewind, and forget...
Ah the weekend has arrived.

~Thank you~

Kylee Abigail
Kylee Abigail
Sep 1, 2013      Sep 3, 2013

it's friday night
and you're intoxicated
you seem excited to talk to me
we make plans for a road trip
i know we will never take
but even still
i'm ecstatic that we're speaking again
it's saturday afternoon
and you're back to your old self
you seem bored with me
we talk briefly about the weather
that really does not matter
but even still
i'm glad that we still talk
it's sunday morning
and you're not talking to me
you seem to be ignoring me again
you're visiting your mother
i'm sitting in silence
but even still
i'm hoping that you're thinking of me

Such a great weekend
Jack Piatt
Jack Piatt
Dec 14, 2011

Such a great weekend
spoiled by the end
like a little boy
who doesn't
want to leave
the fair

And next weekend we'll do this again,
Llahi Fuego
Llahi Fuego
Feb 6, 2012

Saturday night, offered to read your palm

When I don't even know how to read palms,

It was just an excuse to get to touch you.

And oh, touch you I did,

All over.

Sunday morning, nursing hangovers with scenic strolls,

Holding hands

Until our palms get sweaty and we let go.

And next weekend we'll do this again,

All over.

Lack of interest

Candy with a movie
Popcorn too
Candy so sweet and groovy
Popcorn lovely too

Lack of interest clouds my judgement
Lack of interest hobbles along
Lack of interest leaves me lonely
Lack of interest hates my being

Hope of finding freedom
Hope that left me restelss
Hope that made me anxious

Disappointment rings
Disappointment kills hope
Disappointemnt sacrafices candy
Disappointment confides in lack of interest

Kaitlyn M
Kaitlyn M
Mar 24

You ask who's around
and who I should go and see,
but it's time by myself and that's
all it really ends up as: me.

When you're not around
and I'm away from home,
I stumble through each day
wondering why I'm all alone.

There are a few here and there
that I spend some time with,
But it's really only you that
I care to be around and kiss.

Don't get me wrong, my work
means so much to me.
But how can I possibly be happy
when one is my army?

Shitty rhyming poem. I tried.

The tension is mounting, standing in line
Bass reverberates, the sound of things to come
Manic conversation and body language animation
Staying awake until we see the sun.

Enter the venue greeted by sticky collective body heat
The treble of the onslaught of noise now palpable
Without thinking, i begin to move my feet
Becoming one with the masses of bodies moving in unison.

The milk of the night, one in my hand from a mate
I drink it down as I become expectant
Excitedly waiting for my body to be seized
And exited by a juggernaut of positive emotions.

Every stranger is a one minute friend
Micro moments of love become my guide for the night
The music sounds like the songs of the gods
The rhythm and percussion of an underground ritual.

Every touch and taste and sound is heightened
An emanating aura of love surrounds the crowd
Smiles, laughs, hugs and high-fives
Throwing shapes and boogieing down.

As the party creator closes down the night
Masses pour outside drowned by early sunlight
All in search of a beach or after-hours haunt
To continue on their hedonic treadmill.

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