jmedra2 - Hello Poetry

My secrets are metaphors. The words are artfully arranged in alliteration Or cautiously halted in Enjambment so that they don't reveal themselves. My secrets are anaphoric. They are metonymic, swearing secrecy to the pen. Sometimes they are synecdoches, Begging, afraid, in rhyme for your attention again. My secrets are anecdotes. They write about themselves through personification. This poem juxtaposes itself; I've told you all of my secrets of secrecy-how ironic.

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Mar 27, 2019

Mar 27, 2019 at 5:13 PM UTC

jmedra2

Secrecy

My secrets are metaphors. The words are artfully arranged in alliteration Or cautiously halted in Enjambment so that they don't reveal themselves. My secrets are anaphoric. They are metonymic, swearing secrecy to the pen. Sometimes they are synecdoches, Begging, afraid, in rhyme for your attention again. My secrets are anecdotes. They write about themselves through personification. This poem juxtaposes itself; I've told you all of my secrets of secrecy-how ironic.

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I am enthralled by your hands which write a line of poetry On every ray of sunshine you exert toward my body. I cannot breathe; at least not enough of you. My heartbeat quickens as you confess your love Through shoulder kisses, intertwined fingers, And rosy paint across my neck. Your words melt away inside my head, Setting my rationality aflame into fuzzy sentiment. My restraint deserts me as you inch closer to my face. When our lips meet, the heat is so intense I unintentionally cry from inexplicable happiness. So that the wet tears will reduce the heat's severity. I want to burn when you reach for my cheeks. I want my knees to crumble when your fingers touch my hips. I want to kiss you until I can breathe again; Each of your kisses provides oxygen foreign to the air. It's not until our lips detach that I feel the pain Of an unchecked inferno growing within me. I'm deprived of my breath when I'm not in your arms. And so I wait to glow. I wait in his hellish blaze to meet the warmth in your palms And the flickers of sweetness in your eyes. I'll wait to read your interchangeable poetry and fire.

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Mar 27, 2019

Mar 27, 2019 at 5:06 PM UTC

jmedra2

Fervor

I am enthralled by your hands which write a line of poetry On every ray of sunshine you exert toward my body. I cannot breathe; at least not enough of you. My heartbeat quickens as you confess your love Through shoulder kisses, intertwined fingers, And rosy paint across my neck. Your words melt away inside my head, Setting my rationality aflame into fuzzy sentiment. My restraint deserts me as you inch closer to my face. When our lips meet, the heat is so intense I unintentionally cry from inexplicable happiness. So that the wet tears will reduce the heat's severity. I want to burn when you reach for my cheeks. I want my knees to crumble when your fingers touch my hips. I want to kiss you until I can breathe again; Each of your kisses provides oxygen foreign to the air. It's not until our lips detach that I feel the pain Of an unchecked inferno growing within me. I'm deprived of my breath when I'm not in your arms. And so I wait to glow. I wait in his hellish blaze to meet the warmth in your palms And the flickers of sweetness in your eyes. I'll wait to read your interchangeable poetry and fire.

23

Paper Plane Girl, what holds you up? Perhaps it is the air that fills your lungs And hollows out your bones and veins So that they become nothing but catacombs. Or maybe it all goes up to your pretty head, Inflating your cells and the idea of yourself, And you float like a balloon with limitless air. But you are a paper airplane without fuel And when you finally carry yourself into space There will be no wind to fly you anywhere Or gravity to pull you back from loneliness.

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Mar 27, 2019

Mar 27, 2019 at 4:50 PM UTC

jmedra2

Paper Plane Girl

Paper Plane Girl, what holds you up? Perhaps it is the air that fills your lungs And hollows out your bones and veins So that they become nothing but catacombs. Or maybe it all goes up to your pretty head, Inflating your cells and the idea of yourself, And you float like a balloon with limitless air. But you are a paper airplane without fuel And when you finally carry yourself into space There will be no wind to fly you anywhere Or gravity to pull you back from loneliness.

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