You aren’t the first to come and sit beside me
On this couch.
Others have come before you
And have left their imprint.
I do hope that you’re the last to walk in
And stay.
The way you smile
and lean back against the cushion,
You stare at me and smile as if asking, what?
The past imprints are meaningful.
Some are deeper than the last that sat
Where you’re sitting now.
I’ve learned a lot from them.
Sometimes their ghosts still
Walk in and smile.
Before stepping back out.
It’s funny how well I thought I knew myself,
Until I realized I didn’t.
But without them,
I wouldn’t have learned more about myself.
About what I needed to change,
What I needed to let go,
How to hold you
without readying myself to say goodbye afterwards.
When you first walked in,
You reminded me of them.
The ghosts that walked in
and kept me company for a minute.
To be honest, I counted the minutes until you said goodbye.
I don’t count anymore.
I’ve gotten used to sitting here
on the couch with you.
Jul 16, 2025
Jul 16, 2025 at 12:30 AM UTC
I touch you in a place
most look past,
a place within reach.
It is within this place
I feel most alive.
The space between hearts,
the space between fingers,
interlocked, soft and slow.
No one really pays attention
to the space mid-heartbeat
only the beginning and the end
of palpation.
But here, I taste the air
and come to life.
It’s not heavy.
In fact, I am weightless.
But I feel it
in the hopes that you reciprocate.
No different than the space
between minutes,
simply ticking.
The world is not ours,
but that isn't a reason to be afraid.
When I think about you,
I visit this place,
not afraid to knock on your ribs,
with every intention
to exist closer to your heart
May 21, 2025
May 21, 2025 at 1:42 AM UTC
I don’t know if you ever listened to the sky
when it gets hungry.
It growls.
It rumbles.
Even roams.
It sits in the dark,
contemplating what it wants.
Then,
Boom.
Thunder hits
without warning.
At some point,
we've all been there
hungry, with no idea
what we want to eat,
no one to ask,
everything sounding good.
Thunder hits again.
The hush left to whisper
between lips,
******* in air.
It’s enough to make you mad.
The rain doesn’t wait.
The lightning
not knowing where to begin.
Hunger waits for release.
I am the moment
that waits for you
in-between
May 20, 2025
May 20, 2025 at 1:26 AM UTC
Girl, you so jive.
You can talk butter off bread
all sweet, whether the sun is shining or not.
I seen your type before,
wearing a dress, your purse matching
whatever printed accent
swaying in the wind.
I bet when it rains,
it doesn’t touch you
too busy moving,
too many things going on.
I bet you smile
even when no one is around.
Who needs company
when you got it going on like that?
Gone head, snap your fingers,
do your step
with your jive self.
You walk in like you own the place,
scratching off pieces of your heart
whether it’s the right place
or the wrong time.
One thing they can’t say
about you
is that you hold up the line.
Everybody gets a piece.
You ain’t fooling nobody
with your jive self.
Some things
are more important than money.
With your sweet,
jive self.
May 20, 2025
May 20, 2025 at 1:24 AM UTC
Your name fit in my mouth
like a prayer I don’t remember whispering,
somewhere between hunger
and desire.
It was an apple,
ripe and on time.
I didn’t ask where it came from,
but I was glad to see it.
It presses between my lips,
juice slipping
down my wrist.
Before meeting you,
I don’t quite remember
the taste of anything.
And I know better
the weight of consequence,
the weight of every yes
and no,
how a single bite
can change everything.
Now that I’ve tasted you,
I love you past knowing,
though part of me reconsiders,
curious
about the sound of your name.
By this definition,
hunger has its own way
of deciding what stays
and what goes.
Where once I wouldn’t have dared,
now I know
what you feel like in my hands,
how easily you get caught
in my teeth,
how you remind me
of spring,
summer,
and fall.
No matter how fast
my heart beats,
when I bite,
I am whole
hunger silencing
the thought of losing you.
Love Poem, Creative Writing, Falling For You, Temptation, Desire, Apple Symbolism, Intimacy, Eve And The Apple, Deep Meaning, The Art Of Words, Fate, Words That Burn, Lust, Forbidden Fruit, Writing Community, Magnetic Love, Lost In The Words, Kewayne Wadley Poetry, Discover Poetry, Hunger, Unfinished Business, Late Night Vibes, Romantic, For Her, Poetry Blog, Original Poetry, Heart On Paper, The Way Things Change, Risk, Intimate, Weight Of Choice, Point Of No Return, Spiritual, Emotional, Instinctive, Sensual, Restraint,
May 20, 2025
May 20, 2025 at 1:19 AM UTC
They love to say
we bring out the best in each other
that I bring out the best in you,
like that's the only thing I am good for,
the only reason I am in your life.
They smile
and point.
It won’t last.
Eventually, he will leave.
Even the moon goes through phases.
As if I’ll just
pack my bags
and leave you behind,
as if I could just
erase my entire existence.
Baby,
I love how they think
you cannot think
for yourself.
your friends,
all the people around you.
They think they know
the truth
when they see me
half the time.
Baby,
I understand
the concept,
the concern.
But even the moon
doesn’t fully disappear,
If you look closer.
Just because they don’t see it
doesn’t mean
I’ve left your sky.
Some things
are just meant
for you.
No matter
how much they point,
or try to pull you
to the side,
there is no hiding
from you
Mar 22, 2025
Mar 22, 2025 at 4:24 PM UTC
I want to build a home with you
a place pieced together of words,
passed from you to me.
Eventually, the walls will breathe,
and they, too, will whisper
through our bones.
No matter how old we get,
they will still be there.
Although neither of us will
completely own this home,
what we will own
is how it makes us feel
and the memories we'll soon sit on
like furniture.
A place we'll come to spend
most of our time,
an inner standing
that it will house both of us,
no matter how we choose
to express ourselves.
The first meal we'll have,
I'll season with my smile
so you can taste what I taste
and feel what I feel
when I see you.
Then you'll understand
why I have nothing to hide,
why I open and include you
in different places in my life.
In this home I want to build with you,
there isn't a wind or a force
that could blow it down.
Even if we were to separate,
my hands will still remember
how we built it
brick by brick,
the mortar sealed
with a kiss from your lips
Mar 22, 2025
Mar 22, 2025 at 4:23 PM UTC
Well, babe, I’ve been let go
I am still learning how to let go.
My hands are so tired.
The people we once were,
the you I once knew,
evaporate into the rearview.
If you refuse to drive
hell, if you won’t even touch the wheel
we’ll keep speeding toward something too dark,
something neither of us can name.
I don't want that for us.
If not for me, then for you.
If I take my foot off the gas,
we go nowhere.
You said, let go.
But there is no way I can let go
without leaving you behind.
We don’t have to crash.
Babe, I’m tired.
We’ve driven too far past the last exit to turn around.
Skidded across the median more times than I’d like.
I don’t mind the potholes,
the chipped paint,
or the blurred lines.
but if we pull over,
I’m not getting back behind the wheel
Mar 22, 2025
Mar 22, 2025 at 4:21 PM UTC
I’ve lived in your heart for a minute now.
And though I love it here,
the faucet leaks,
the door doesn’t shut right
sometimes I have to hold a hand to it
just to lock it back.
When you drink, the space between your ribs
tightens, and your liver expands.
The neighbors aren’t so bad.
They keep to themselves.
When they see me, we talk about
how high the rent is,
how much we don’t get in return for the association fees,
how often we wake up to notices on our door
about late payments
always knocking like the police.
For this reason, I don’t attend any of the meetings.
But I don’t want to leave.
I’ve lived in your heart for a minute now
long enough to sleep through the creaks
when it settles,
long enough to know that home is where my heart is.
Forever isn’t a day here.
It stretches into the way you snore
when you think no one is listening
probably my favorite sound
Mar 15, 2025
Mar 15, 2025 at 12:18 AM UTC
You live between the space
of my fingers,
the caress between my lips.
I only remember when I forget.
Like last night
I thought of you, and it felt like
you were there.
Suddenly, my hands felt like yours
Were there.
Creep is such a bad word,
But there is no other way
to describe it.
I swear I was not thinking about you
only to realize that I was.
And then, I felt the familiar weight of your presence.
You live between the space of my thoughts,
somewhere that's not a dream
but also not just a memory.
When I close my eyes,
you are there,
and I question if you're thinking of me.
Every time I think
and I realize it—
you disappear.
But the weight
the weight of you
I'll never forget.
I only remember when I forget
Mar 15, 2025
Mar 15, 2025 at 12:16 AM UTC