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 Apr 2016 Nite
Hurble B Burble
There is a reason I can't keep my hands off you.
Mostly because you feel so supple to my touch.
But there is more to it.
See I express my self physically.
Use my hands to accentuate my speach.
So for me to touch you is more than you think.
It is my ultimate expression of love.
My hands lazily trotting the atlas of your form.
Is a million words that don't exist.
Before we had words, we had gestures.
Love is impossible to articulate with words.
So I will let my hands do the talking.
And I do hope you understand,
Why words don't flow from me to you.
Love is a feeling not a word.
And it's meant to be felt.
Do you feel it? Because I mean it.
So much that I can't even insult the feeling,
By using paltry words.
No word is worth what you mean to me.
No words.
Never expected 200 something people to read something I wrote.  Thank you so very much to those that reposted and those that read it.
 Apr 2016 Nite
Liz And Lilacs
Shrug your shoulders
and become a shape
that no one else can see.
The self is better heard than seen
but they still tell us to shush.
Close your eyes and shut your mouth
this shall not pass.
Just shush.
 Apr 2016 Nite
ryn
Hug
 Apr 2016 Nite
ryn
Hug
I wish for a hug...
One that lasts only mere seconds.
Yet could only mean nothing
but eternity.

I long for a hug...
One that finds me struggling,
and offers the line that'll hoist me up
so that the whims of the world
would simply fall away.

I yearn for a hug...
An embrace that grants me the briefest
moment of solace.
Amidst the clamour and chaos
that overwhelm.

I want a hug...
One that's unconditional.
One that'll just take me in, as I am.
One that wouldn't cringe
at the misfit of my bones.
One that wouldn't judge
if our heartbeats don't
thump in sync.
our love is a fiction*
carved from my mind
and written in these*

tattered pages

©IGMS
the tale of love that will never be become true
 Apr 2016 Nite
ryn
Transitory
 Apr 2016 Nite
ryn
I am here
Yet most times I'm not
Likened to a fleeting zephyr
Perchance may be caught

Beyond the bend, it's hard to see
Uncertain, unpredictable, unsure
There are chances however unlikely
To chart life's trot and canter

Awaiting the moment I would voraciously savour
The fullness of my being that's rare and transitory
Because almost always,
I'm drowning in doubt and clamour
With fevered breaths drawn more quickly
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