ღ♥´¯'°¤ღ ღ¤°´¯'♥ღ

My last first kiss
shall be
remembered
taken in with every touch
into my very last nerve
every fiber of my being
make me whole my
soul find heaven
my life have meaning.

My last first Kiss
shall be
instilled
in my heart forever
eyes meeting eyes
as anticipation peaks
hearts pounding fast
even skipping beats.
I will take it all in
blissful love on the rise
gentleness in the moment
as emotions intensify.

That last first kiss
I shall savor taste
I shall be united for once
when I taste her lips
meant for only
me to find
from the beginning.

That last first kiss
will be
heaven on earth
as our
passion flows free
and our souls
lock together
just him and me.
Melding into one another
as our lips meet
time and space
will still….
repeat… repeat…repeat…

Just her
And
Paradise

A magical moment
with him
so beautifully divine
our last first kiss
will drip
forever
of honeyed
sweet wine.

  ღ♥´¯'°¤ღ ღ¤°´¯'♥ღ

She stood in the dark
With her long raven hair
Waiting for her prey
To grab her share

Clitching teeth, as thunder roars
Her eyes now glowing, red
As the heavy rain pours

Wait...it looks inhuman
The sharp claws on her hands
A disguise or her true form
Growls, as she lands

Her hunger raging
Like a wildfire
The prey’s blood must quench
And putout the flaming desire

Ready to attack
Without any remorse
Her full attention on the prey, of course

She jumped in full force
To **** with one shot
Not thinking of a power
The mighty prey may have got

A flash of lightening
Falling in between
Both looked fierce and frightening

The darkness creeped the night
As the war went on for hours
From far far away
I was watching with my invisible powers

The deeper the night, the intense the fight
In the land of "the half beings"
Who will shed a light?

Since the waging fight began
None backing to retire
The prey in digust anger
****** eyes, shooting fire

Instinct took over, on the prey most
Survival is a must
Fighting darkness with any priced cost

What will unfold from this battle?
Only time will tell
Either darkness will win or the prey,
One will survive from this bombshell...*


@jobiranyc
©sim

Is it perfect, did I get it right?
Missing pieces, relatable feels.
Sweaty palms, panic, fright.
Heart jumps back, chest reels.

Incomplete, forever it will be,
blinded by the daunting fear.
No one’s work, is mastery,
others judge it, don’t you see?

Self improvement guide’s,
our next steps towards,
the best self versions,
as we move forward.

Waiting for approval,
justified by the few,
who never truly,
understand you.

They say less is more,
but there is more in less,
so how do you choose your words?
To not be left with regret!

My words are for the amateurs,
critics step aside,
together our words will flourish,
together we realize.

Get it out the door, they
say you only live once.
Continue writing more,
go on inspire on!

Fell down
To the ground
Halo’s gone
Skin scarred
Not a human
Now dressed as man
Wings burnt
Heaven sent?
Castaway?
Did he obey
Or betray?
Punishment
Or testament?

here’s the damnedest thing about “hopeless romantics”:

they’ll splinter their own bones into kindling
to build the fire that warms you,
as if putting a match to their insides
might cauterize the wounds
left behind by the greedy lovers and too-rough hands
that set their hearts to bleeding in the first place

you see, the poets spared no pains when they dubbed
the especially romantic “the hopeless”

they are hopelessly betrothed to the warfare,
the burning insanity
of a soul madly in love with love—
the way the heart rages against the brain.

Her hair is dyed, red and blue,
Her looks give not a clue,
Of her part in Joker's dark
paradise,
She rid her old self a lively
demise,

A dangerous mind she does
possess,
She's worse than Joker, they
confess,
With your cool bat & ornated
revolver,
You're the best problem
solver,

She's made of mischief, & she ain't
hidin',
She's a darlin' with her dear
puddin',
Her life's not an open DC book,
But more, care to take a look?

Locked & chained, was her heart,
Until, one day, came Joker's dart,
& so he's her one & only,
Now she nor Gotham will ever be lonely,

The queen of Arkham is a feat,
Her suave style, none can beat,
Harleen Quinzel, well played,
I don't mind comin' to your aid!!!  
                                             THE END

Call me crazy
I refuse to talk in a room full of my peers,
Because I am afraid for
How those will react to the
“Shy” “Quiet” “Odd”
Girl to speak.

Call me crazy
I would rather be home writing
Enjoying a hot cup of hot cocoa rather than
Be out late at a party
With a random stranger
Who likes me for when I turn around

Call me crazy
I do not reach societies standards
For a barbie body,
Straight A’s,
Or owning the hottest pair of jeans on town.

Call me crazy
But I am not like the rest
And I refuse to become somebody
Who I do not want to be.

The great, green Giant sleeps all through the day;
beer-bellied, toes outstretched, dipping into the sea.
He lazes beneath the springtime sun, while we sit idly
anticipating possibilities and to-bes.

This dead castle bursts with life,
seagulls, and sandwiches,
and cameras capturing the view
onto something they can hold;
something graspable.

                *

The Giant disappears at night;
merging with the mountains.
Fading into the dark, as the waning moon
creeps up behind and over and above;
dripping reflections to feel a connection
with the earth again.

Lovers wander now, wandering through the flirting streets
which tease with uncertainty, and curtain the
awe-striking depth of the darkness that dumbs their speech
as they 'turn at this corner and just along the promenade..'.

Pushed back by a blast of wind;
numbing hands cold.
Forcing them away from
prolonging a gaze on the Sea's cruel honesty;
knowing they would be driven mad
by endless questions of eternity.

Questions they attempted to drown out with music and dancing
and Tequila shots and the kissing and the music and the dancing...

But now in the air, by this high-tide, they are
Modern-age-small-town-philosophers.
'Have you ever seen the petrified forest?'
Will they tell stories of us too?
Life is so short and now is certain, well...
as certain as certain could be known for certain so..'

So, after meditating on the existence of existence,
they find refuge in the optimistic light of the stars.
Warmth for the spirit from the deep, dark, cold depth of the darkness;
'Because the night is so very young.
Look, there are still stars in the sky...'

Venus is inconsistent; an evening and a morning star.
And, oh, is that Orion's belt?


         Lying on the floor, in the morning, after a night of philosophy.