Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Matt Jun 2017
I vibrate at the touch of your electric fingertips
Arcing across my skin.
The undertow of your undulous hips,
Your sea breeze voice luring me in.

I need no compass to find my way
Around your stomach, thighs, your mouth agape
Singing your siren song of the day
While my lips map out your shape.

Though you're a storm in my bed
Threatening to leave me breathless, blue,
I leap heels over head
And cast myself into the depths of you.
♥️
Matt Jun 2017
A timid tapping,
A raucous rapping;
Salvation calls from above.

A rumbling, a roar,
Calls me out my door
To the unknown, cast in shade.

Her electric smile,
Flashing all the while
As if for her I was made.

A tickle, trickle,
Then sliced by sickle,
The sky engulfs me in love.
Playing with rhyming patterns and syllable counts.
Matt Sep 2017
I cannot say that I fell
skyward into the blacks of your eyes
after your crescent moon smile
washed out the ground beneath me.

No, I leapt.
Matt Jul 2017
Slowly, it starts.
Boiling,
Rising,
Seeping through the cracks. With heart
clawing up my throat,
you dance on the tip of my tongue;
your voice 'round mine like flesh on bone.
With your reflection sewn to my feet I cannot escape you.
You are weaved fabric from a familiar land;
a veil that strangles and blinds.
But there will come a time
when I will bite your silver tongue from my mind;
f  l  a  y
             y    o    u    r
                                s      k      i      n
from my bones.
I will be heard
(the ringing in your ear)
"You were never welcome here."
The voice in your head can be beaten.
Matt Oct 2017
Not one of my own, but from www.iwrotethisforyou.me

----

I know how you felt when I touched you, because I know how I felt when you touched me. So you cannot tell me that you do not think of it often, or wonder why no one will ever be able to touch you like that, again.
From www.iwrotethisforyou.me, a wonderful poetry blog.
Matt Jul 2017
The summer rain reminds me of you,
Of making pillow forts and popcorn, laughing at bad horror movies while the rain laughs along on the roof above.

The summer rain reminds me of you,
Of rushing from the car with our groceries without an umbrella and then spreading out our haul as if it to calculate how long it could last if the storm trapped us in our apartment forever.

The summer rain reminds me of you,
Of the flash of your smile and the thunder of your laughter, followed by the deluge of tears. And me counting the time between over the months and years, wondering if there's something worse on the way.

The summer rain reminds me of you,
Of laying awake at night listening to your troubled moans, praying that your clouded heart would one day clear.

Though I always wished the storm would pass and the sun would shine, I always smile when it rains

because the summer rain reminds me of you.
Some people you'll just never forget.
Matt Jun 2017
I hear you calling from within these walls,
but I've spent forever

pawing,

clawing at the plaster to free you.
My hands overflow with expanding silence.
I cannot speak.

I lay with you night after night
separated by this wall of flesh that mimics my every breath
as you sing me to sleep with your haunting, your taunting melody.

Your
  slowing
    pulse
is the most maddening rhythm.
Your
   fading
     voice,
the saddest cadence.

I want to share your secrets with the world.
Send your voice on the wind.
Hammer your heartbeat into the ground.

Heard.

Felt.

I will carve out my name
With one of the finer points of life.
An oldie from my archives.
Matt Aug 2017
Be weightless, my love,
like the mists that kiss your skin
when waves collapse on the coast.

Soar like a sparrow,
hover like a hummingbird,
dip like a dragonfly,
spin like a samara.

Dance through the air
to your endless, serene song.
Dance across streams,
atop forest canopies,
above the clouds.

You deserve to dance
because you are majestic.

Never let the gravity of the earth
define your worth.
Be free.
Matt Jun 2017
You found me
    the way fire finds the parched
    forests of California.
You caressed me
    the way waves caress the crumbling
    coast of every once-great
    Mediterranean city.
You whispered
    like the wind whispers sandstorms
    across the Sahara Desert.
You wept
    water-like into the fissures of my
    foundation

and froze

until I crumbled;
until I became a memory of myself;
a phantom limb;
a shadow in the dark.

— The End —