emc4life - Hello Poetry

If only I could I’d make love to you one utterly beautiful word at a time writing sonnets between your ribs planting commas On the curve of your neck pausing for ellipses where your breath catches mine With my eyes I’d chase yours down a library aisle tugging at the spines unwritten stories opening chapters where our hearts get caught in the margins Eagerly, I’d begin how I’d linger together we’d savor each other line by sweet line. Your tears breathtaking joy? I’d catch them like fireflies holding their light in my palms then kiss them from your cheeks leaving trails of poetry you’d only find when you smiled. And my chest pressed to yours would thunder like a drumline syncopated uncontainable. For that deepest yearning no feast of flesh could satisfy I’d lay my words on your skin like blessings scripture only we could read my lips spelling out spells that unravel every doubt hesitation. And when you’d tremble beneath me it wouldn’t be from desire alone It’d be the way my words fed your soul the way I’d tattoo love into your fingertips until you couldn’t hold anyone else without feeling me. Our bodies wouldn’t just meet; they’d converse sighs unspoken agreement declaration you’ve been waiting for. The kind of passion that doesn’t just exist— it rewrites. And as the end of our story approached as we found ourselves draped in moonlight and metaphors I’d lean in close pressing words into the molly of your ear Did You Enjoy What’s In The Cup …… I. Love. You. And you’d know it wasn’t just a statement. It was the whole poem

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Nov 25, 2024

Nov 25, 2024 at 9:09 AM UTC

emc4life

If Only I Could

If only I could I’d make love to you one utterly beautiful word at a time writing sonnets between your ribs planting commas On the curve of your neck pausing for ellipses where your breath catches mine With my eyes I’d chase yours down a library aisle tugging at the spines unwritten stories opening chapters where our hearts get caught in the margins Eagerly, I’d begin how I’d linger together we’d savor each other line by sweet line. Your tears breathtaking joy? I’d catch them like fireflies holding their light in my palms then kiss them from your cheeks leaving trails of poetry you’d only find when you smiled. And my chest pressed to yours would thunder like a drumline syncopated uncontainable. For that deepest yearning no feast of flesh could satisfy I’d lay my words on your skin like blessings scripture only we could read my lips spelling out spells that unravel every doubt hesitation. And when you’d tremble beneath me it wouldn’t be from desire alone It’d be the way my words fed your soul the way I’d tattoo love into your fingertips until you couldn’t hold anyone else without feeling me. Our bodies wouldn’t just meet; they’d converse sighs unspoken agreement declaration you’ve been waiting for. The kind of passion that doesn’t just exist— it rewrites. And as the end of our story approached as we found ourselves draped in moonlight and metaphors I’d lean in close pressing words into the molly of your ear Did You Enjoy What’s In The Cup …… I. Love. You. And you’d know it wasn’t just a statement. It was the whole poem

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Vibes caught static between snares hips swinging searching for music that played their truth. The bass line wasn’t just music it was breath pulling ribs apart to let the rhythm in Fingers slid down necks like frets pressing into chords that hummed notes down thighs in time Wanting too blow saxophones Spitting all over the reed Jazz isn’t something you hear it’s something that happens to you cymbal crashed piano keys Play confessions no hymn would dare too black and white blending spilled burbon over smoke-stained wood Feet tapping out codes no one else could decipher syncopated riff breaking patterns breaking rules The off beat gospel you couldn’t write down. The room swayed with them walls leaning in leaning closer to the crescendo the saxophone came in it was a third hand tracing lines down spines nobody dared to blow before. This is jazz: argument turned foreplay rough pull dissonance before harmony slips in like a satin sheets you weren’t ready for. Hands hit bodies like drumsticks slap rolling inhale percussion moaning muted horn solo They weren’t just feeling the music; they were becoming it beating out solos on each other’s skin. The sweat smelled like vinyl records warm grooves pressed into the air spinning slow spins catching sparks needle skating over scars was a minor chord that somehow still felt major. learning how to recognize itself. Passion spilling out her mouth scotch over his mahogany wood The rimshot of her sigh Improvision improvisation of his kiss Scatting sound echoing from lips His horn hit her high note one that split the room in half she leaned closer saying “Do you hear that?” But he wasn’t listening to the music anymore. He was listening to her pulse that slick heartbeat drumming solo against his wrist. This is what jazz does You don’t just play It consumes. becomes the air the walls sweat the skin It’s the music you don’t hear but feel right there in the space where your ribs can’t hold the notes. Jazz doesn’t end it just fades into the background waiting for you to join again

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Nov 25, 2024

Nov 25, 2024 at 7:13 AM UTC

emc4life

Jazz Becomes You

Vibes caught static between snares hips swinging searching for music that played their truth. The bass line wasn’t just music it was breath pulling ribs apart to let the rhythm in Fingers slid down necks like frets pressing into chords that hummed notes down thighs in time Wanting too blow saxophones Spitting all over the reed Jazz isn’t something you hear it’s something that happens to you cymbal crashed piano keys Play confessions no hymn would dare too black and white blending spilled burbon over smoke-stained wood Feet tapping out codes no one else could decipher syncopated riff breaking patterns breaking rules The off beat gospel you couldn’t write down. The room swayed with them walls leaning in leaning closer to the crescendo the saxophone came in it was a third hand tracing lines down spines nobody dared to blow before. This is jazz: argument turned foreplay rough pull dissonance before harmony slips in like a satin sheets you weren’t ready for. Hands hit bodies like drumsticks slap rolling inhale percussion moaning muted horn solo They weren’t just feeling the music; they were becoming it beating out solos on each other’s skin. The sweat smelled like vinyl records warm grooves pressed into the air spinning slow spins catching sparks needle skating over scars was a minor chord that somehow still felt major. learning how to recognize itself. Passion spilling out her mouth scotch over his mahogany wood The rimshot of her sigh Improvision improvisation of his kiss Scatting sound echoing from lips His horn hit her high note one that split the room in half she leaned closer saying “Do you hear that?” But he wasn’t listening to the music anymore. He was listening to her pulse that slick heartbeat drumming solo against his wrist. This is what jazz does You don’t just play It consumes. becomes the air the walls sweat the skin It’s the music you don’t hear but feel right there in the space where your ribs can’t hold the notes. Jazz doesn’t end it just fades into the background waiting for you to join again

144

You’re the unsaved drafts in my notes app the one I keep rewriting but never quite finish. You’re the glitch in my favorite playlist skipping just enough to make me rewind and replay. You’re that $20 bill I forgot in my coat pocket found right when I was broke enough to pray for it. When you’re here Let it be like late-night drive-thru l fries hot and golden perfect until the last one reminder to savor because nothing good lasts forever Your laugh? That’s the secret ingredient In your grandmother’s gumbo the one nobody can replicate Tasting flavors sitting on tongues tells me stories I didn’t know I needed to remember. But your no easy recipe you’re hand-rolled sushi with too much wasabi slap of heat I chase because the burn feels like a dare I double dog dare you To say yes To us I sip the sweetness sighs like chamomile but brace myself for the bite of your truths never sugarcoated and somehow that’s the part that tastes like love. I’m not here to cage you. Go, dance barefoot on somebody else’s rooftop call the moon by her first name lose your voice screaming at concerts for songs you don’t know. Just promise me you’ll come back with stories or at least let me be the one you text at 2 a.m. when you’re drunk enough to admit you miss me. We don’t need titles no labels to make this fit neatly into anyone’s definition Because defining means endings And there no end to us You’re the blueprint I study without tracing the corner of the puzzle I start with but I don’t need the picture on the box to find my way Because when we’re together we’re jazz at 2 a.m improvised scatting flawless messy in all the right ways. You strum my nerves like bassline plucking the parts of me I didn’t know could sing Be earworm hook stuck on repeat beat my skin memorizes without permission. So, don’t worry about defining us. We’re vinyl, baby scratched and spinning but always worth the needle drop. We’re the unwritten verse at the end of a love song the kind you hum in the shower when nobody’s listening And if this is all we ever are the pause between heartbeats sparks before the fire ellipsis in an unfinished sentence of… then so be it. As long as when you’re here you love me loud love me free Love language me Words and music Speak to me love me like a confession only we were meant to keep.

0

Nov 24, 2024

Nov 24, 2024 at 4:59 AM UTC

emc4life

No Title Needed

You’re the unsaved drafts in my notes app the one I keep rewriting but never quite finish. You’re the glitch in my favorite playlist skipping just enough to make me rewind and replay. You’re that $20 bill I forgot in my coat pocket found right when I was broke enough to pray for it. When you’re here Let it be like late-night drive-thru l fries hot and golden perfect until the last one reminder to savor because nothing good lasts forever Your laugh? That’s the secret ingredient In your grandmother’s gumbo the one nobody can replicate Tasting flavors sitting on tongues tells me stories I didn’t know I needed to remember. But your no easy recipe you’re hand-rolled sushi with too much wasabi slap of heat I chase because the burn feels like a dare I double dog dare you To say yes To us I sip the sweetness sighs like chamomile but brace myself for the bite of your truths never sugarcoated and somehow that’s the part that tastes like love. I’m not here to cage you. Go, dance barefoot on somebody else’s rooftop call the moon by her first name lose your voice screaming at concerts for songs you don’t know. Just promise me you’ll come back with stories or at least let me be the one you text at 2 a.m. when you’re drunk enough to admit you miss me. We don’t need titles no labels to make this fit neatly into anyone’s definition Because defining means endings And there no end to us You’re the blueprint I study without tracing the corner of the puzzle I start with but I don’t need the picture on the box to find my way Because when we’re together we’re jazz at 2 a.m improvised scatting flawless messy in all the right ways. You strum my nerves like bassline plucking the parts of me I didn’t know could sing Be earworm hook stuck on repeat beat my skin memorizes without permission. So, don’t worry about defining us. We’re vinyl, baby scratched and spinning but always worth the needle drop. We’re the unwritten verse at the end of a love song the kind you hum in the shower when nobody’s listening And if this is all we ever are the pause between heartbeats sparks before the fire ellipsis in an unfinished sentence of… then so be it. As long as when you’re here you love me loud love me free Love language me Words and music Speak to me love me like a confession only we were meant to keep.

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