I think I love you like a man.
I love your pretty face,
your lovely hair,
and all the missing bits
I’m kindly filling out for you.
The more you’re gone,
the more ideal you appear.
That soft delicious skin
hides your lack of basic skill.
I like the way you’re shy.
I like how I’m making you uneasy.
Your face is pale, yet still blushing,
those rosy cheeks afire.
I’d love to have a piece
of your dainty dark blond curls.
I cannot hold in my desire.
I fear I might force myself
onto that ****** lock.
Sometimes your ruby lips
spill silly little pebbles.
But that’s alright, my love,
you should not worry.
A boy as sweet as you
needs neither wisdom,
nor pointy sharpened wits.
We wouldn’t want to *****
that lovely mellow finger.
Apr 22
Apr 22, 2026 at 4:05 PM UTC
Bringing back attention
To flying fleeting lines.
Words are jumping off my thinking
Fireflies in a heated steaming jar.
I have a need, a want
To bring together concepts
To focus every thought
Into a comprehensive bubble
Of poetic gliding juice.
Slipping, sliding, sneaking
That’s all my head could give
Birth to most the time,
Only dusty fading offspring.
I have a potent power
Of peeking out the veil
Of stages playing scenes.
I see, that’s one thing, but another
To tell the staring empty sheet
Apr 22
Apr 22, 2026 at 1:51 PM UTC
Let us play a game of chess
I’ll be the royal dame
and you shall be the loser.
Oh, my defeat-ridden liege,
Your bishop’s so painfully tiresome
With his strings of diagonal sermons
and my elegant knight only dances
in a very particular way.
Time is ticking and passing
by us so quickly;
like a little soldier with nothing
on its way of becoming a woman.
Quickly, quickly,
promise me something.
Anything, really.
Fire at least this tiny small cannon
before the game comes to an end.
I win, I always will win,
I win a blade so dull and rusty;
it keeps almost cutting my head.
My prizes always taste of iron;
I think I do not like chess anymore.
Apr 22
Apr 22, 2026 at 1:46 PM UTC