How does my name taste?
Is it fond in day time amidst strangers and friends alike?
I would like to believe I am no secret.
I have been pressed against dark hallways, ushered to not make a sound, my name only moaned softly in the middle of the night.
Where I am unseen, unheard, wondering if I could exist in your world. Wondering if I could hold your hand in a crowd, or if you could reciprocate my gaze.
I need to know how I taste.
In both day and night, your name tastes sweet.
Dec 3, 2021
Dec 3, 2021 at 9:01 PM UTC
emotionally clothed; to deny myself the right to be liberated. to rain and soak into the soil, not smeared in my palms and brushed upon my legs. good riddance, I’d say. and you have no say. this is my way. a masculine form has lived in me with greed. and now I welcome this experience. for this need to be met and I shall carry my burdens no longer, and my growth, discontinued, to stump. a tender craving I have to blossom, and the earth shall be my performer, and the sun my spotlight. and the moon, my animated story teller. and now that he shares, the feminine will be starved no more. a star she will be. a naked star. vulnerability can be quite captivating you see.
Dec 3, 2021
Dec 3, 2021 at 8:52 PM UTC
You’ll make me laugh till the end of my days.
Finding your eyes is the calm of deep ocean.
I am never here unless here is with you.
Despite the masculinity which oozes in your facade, I feel warm and safe in your presence.
It’s as if your soul duty is to put a smile on my face, and when yours drops, you find solitude with me.
You called me your twin flame once, and I wonder if that’s true.
We are far from peas of the same pod, but for each other seems right.
In all the ways to find people in this world, I’m glad to have found my way to you.
Or the other way around.
Dec 3, 2021
Dec 3, 2021 at 8:46 PM UTC
Your hands linger short of late.
What took your time for me to sit and wait?
Slowly and painfully.
But sure enough you lingered, while I longed.
For tongues to tie, a union of two.
Two who emerge from lost feelings, to be looked upon by tender eyes.
To be seen I’ve longed.
And here you are in front of me, holding my heart as you bare it.
bare my tails of woe, tales of tears, and what I need to let go.
For a hand so great, could ever hold this grief; it could only be yours.
Now rest in mine, tired boy.
I hold guilt for asking of you to hold the weight.
If the dense truth of who I am, what came of me and what I’ve came of, is too tiring of a burden; tell me.
For you to linger a little more, would mean the world.
Jul 9, 2021
Jul 9, 2021 at 3:05 AM UTC
rest assured; chaos is on the brink. chaos! the cloak of distraction which shelters the change beyond what appears to ones eye. a storm is brewing, shattering and leaving a wreckage of a once whole, but old ship, riddled of what the ocean has been reclaiming. shells and life forms eating at the old wood of a once stable boat.
though this boat has not braced these seas before.
to make it ashore, a new ship must be tailored by tinkering hands and sailor’d by destiny’s demands.
this woman is anything but hollow, her fellowships far from shallow. She is worn and new, reborn a light. her mind is a vessel which only magic occupies, and the divine feminine looks to the sadness hidden below deck and knows this; will be the rebirth of the absolute you.
Feb 18, 2021
Feb 18, 2021 at 8:26 AM UTC
Knees scorched and my heart is warm.
Reminiscing days of ocean blue.
Instead I sit in my armour.
Protecting the fierceness of winter breeze.
Hot and cold tend to possess this intensity.
Red licks upon cedars wood, reminding me of the significant vessel I occupy, is capable of feeling too.
There is a certain life to a flame, that I find difficult to express, so instead I will exist in this body.
Reminiscing.
Jun 23, 2020
Jun 23, 2020 at 12:19 AM UTC
beauty is a selfish pursuit. wild endeavours stood before me on short legs, her eyes seducing me with a look I’d never seen before. Her body was voluptuous; in a way that she could hide a flaw. with her smile, with her face I decided she was a canvas. she moved in feelings, and my brush was stiff. I couldn’t move her way so I made her move mine, and she obliged with a heart full of love. and she danced with her fingers between mine, so I would feel safe that her heart was with me. And now she moved in paint and my brush created a perfect picture of this woman who was mine. Although beneath the thick layer of colour I created for me, was not a blank canvas but a selfless soul who wanted to be free. A pursuit of beauty in another, for my own selfish needs. So I can hold her hand and call her my own. and so you see I’ve painted a pretty picture congratulate me. this canvas could’ve been many things and she hung herself upon a wall for me, to stay put forever.
Apr 23, 2019
Apr 23, 2019 at 7:04 AM UTC
hold my hand and lure me into your heart. blindly guided into a mind of one. alone you stand naked, only by the senses can two, reach symbiosis. flesh on flesh. a heavy breath can tell many tales, as can a touch or the way you are soft spoken in a room so vast. these little moments we create, are for me. and you. and I hold your hand truly. you’re not holding mine. this is my story told, and in the end you will realise; it’s all about you. this is it for two souls who mirror the human they hold close in the middle of the day. night. and it’s all we should ever need
Jan 25, 2019
Jan 25, 2019 at 6:44 AM UTC
Holding hands that let go. Limp. My energy drains his. I carry his burden, so I carry myself. Caring eyes can only care so much. I can see he does not love me. He will not love me. Am I patient? Or just procrastinating? Avoiding the inevitable, avoiding a reality where I am without a man who believes he wants me when in my heart I know, I am not the woman he needs. Or wants. And now I realise, I am not for everyone.
Oct 12, 2018
Oct 12, 2018 at 6:51 AM UTC
He has a spot beneath his ribcage.
I often find myself touching the soft skin that dips on his body.
He can be so hard on me yet his lips are soft.
He has gentle caring eyes.
Murky.
Never have I seen a set of blue as amazing as his.
Sometimes the gap in his teeth can be sighted between his pink lips.
And I know he thinks he is ordinary.
But I want him to know he is beautiful.
And like no other person I've ever known.
He will not let me love him.
I know he doesn't believe when I say the words.
He doesn't want to.
I show him by touching the scruff on his delicate face.
I show him by asking for one more kiss even when he is tired and agitated.
I'll always desire his presence and his skin on mine.
He will not let me love him.
Yet I do
Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 9:12 PM UTC