Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Mar 2018 Phoenix Bekkedal
Cné
I treasure those nights of unexpected surrender
when hands molded
caressed
and made me tremble
waking from slumber with body afire
as he inched gradually into me
bathed in my welcoming heat
one palm curled protectively
'round the weight of my breast
as finger and thumb drew on beaded peak
and breath caught in my throat
as his full depth was reached
unable to remain still
rocking back to achieve a deeper sink
his sudden hiss scalding my neck
teeth worrying my bottom lip
neither willing to move
afraid it would all end too soon
and as the flames continued to rise
groans replaced whispered sighs
no hurried pace or rapid ******
slow and sensual movements
dragging us ever nearer the edge
denying that final release
drawing closer but holding it back
sensation heightened beyond bearing
until that fraying tether breaks
causing walls to tighten and quake
drinking every last drop of his lust
clutching inside and out
desperately seeking his mouth
sealing the cataclysmic moment
heart pressed to heart
breath to breath
what is it you think about that
makes you as special as the full moon,
and just as ethereal?
even after all this time,
i linger on the ends of words you wrote,
on stanzas you seamlessly weaved into poetry;
i remember the rich green ends of your hair
like chlorophyll saturating new leaves;
i see you in every shade of yellow
and in the soft soil of this Earth you love so much.
you said that i changed your life
but i cannot begin to explain how
your smile rivals the dazzling, celestial beauty of sunrise,
your laugh blooms as a sweet rose in spring,
and the thoughts you think are absolutely captivating.
you're somebody special

even after all this time...
we have graduated from who we were then
and stride in opposite directions.
perhaps i don't love you quite the same
as time is a funny phenomenon
but i am always wishing the best for you,
and that transcends time.
i wonder if sometimes,
you turn back and look for me in your memories?
i would like to recommend the album "Go With Me" by Kwak Jin Eon, which i listened to while writing this.

if i could ask you one thing now, i would ask if you are an alien. you're too beautiful for this Earth
 Oct 2017 Phoenix Bekkedal
Alicia
You
Your eyes,
Deception lies?

Too good to be true?

Scared,
So scared you actually exist.

Me,
Young naive?

Scared to believe,
Still skittish and broken.

Wonderful,
Oh how i feel in the morning knowing you thought of me,
Jealousy,
In the pitt of my stomach,
That i hope its only me so bad i could puke type feeling,
Desire,
To hold you close and show you what i can do,
To want you and everything that comes along with you,
Baggage and all
Pleasure,
Warm breath,
No sight,
One place to the next id kiss,
A cool breezy yet warm surprise,
Give you all i know in hopes to blow your mind,
Remember,
I want to be the woman you remember,
On your mind when you have a thought,
Resounding in your head type remember,
Going crazy in your bed type remember,
The caraze to hear my voice again,
The sensation to feel me next to you,
Unbearable,
An addiction,
To need me,
Involve me,

Control me?
In my thoughts i can hear you,
In my dreams they have become so vivid i can feel you,
Fantasy,
To picture your mouth move as you speak,
To wonder just how warm your breath feels,
To wonder how your body feels with mine,

You ask whats on my mind and this all becomes a flash,
And every time all i say is,
You.
The last day of summer,
the last day of innocence.
The first day of highschool,
the first day of broken promises.
Grades count and friends being there for you doesn't,
Homecoming matters but studying is at a loss for words,
on how nobody gives a **** about anything.
We drink away our passions and generosity,
say cheers to the rebellious age of denial and addictions
to lonely nights and stale cigarettes
High School is pretty cool.
you are flat
frame is reverse
be sensible
 Jul 2017 Phoenix Bekkedal
emma l
the early morning silence is good for me

i usually miss out on the sunrise,
but when i don't, i let myself soak in it

my fingers prune under the rays of a sun unreleased

this in-between --
the not quite day, but not quite night --
sets my world in motion

time stands still and life forms inside my window pane

bliss in a 5:30AM lilac sky

the early morning silence is good for me
good morning
He will take his coffee black
And alone, though you will observe one day
That he will sometimes, surreptitiously sweeten it
When he thinks that you aren’t looking

The bad weather of his cigarettes he always putting out
Will insinuate their way through his curls
And flavour your kitchen
In strange tastes and lingering long gone stains

He will dread his hair when he’s anxious
Fearful or caught in a bedsit lie
Fingertips finding cures for traps in
The knots and tangles of escapism


And he will smile. Absently and presently
Nodding in all the sign here dotted lines
Murmuring the correct kicked-out-of-home
Superlatives to all your wonderful, desperate ideas

Do not trust his put upon grin
Do not lose yourself in back alley, bottle-cove
Teeth flash and spark, fight or flight smiles
He will have put up this defence before

I know he refrains from cruel words and pauses
Considers his actions and dismisses his first thoughts as cruel
He will look like he’s been caught with one foot
Caught in the cookie jar open door

Just because he doesn’t say “*****” doesn’t mean
He doesn’t want to.
His tongue has sculpted this word well before
And the aftermath left him as he called her and apology

This will show control, not concern
And this is measured in proven glances
Designed to test theories
And the limits of his patience


He will wait till he is tucked right into you
To let the lodger act fall
And he will say this house is his
Even if you built it

He will wear an excuse a hundred miles
Or until he is next alone, whichever get’s there last
He will not last
He will not shut the door behind him as he goes


But instead leave a cruel breeze
In the shape of abandonment
His tenancy touch will not
Ask for a deposit back

Nor will he leave you a forwarding address
For all your last warning words
Undelivered on your tongue
If people are houses then are our lovers lodgers or neighbours, or extensions or lean tos? Perhaps this is true of everyone but the last person you want a lover to end up with is someone just like you, no matter how poor a fit the relationship may have been or if you were the one who ended it, i always find a selfish possessiveness of the grief of breakups.
Next page