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 May 2013 Antelope
Tessa F
Still unsure how to love myself.
 May 2013 Antelope
Krusty Aranda
It beats.
It pumps.
It doesn't feel the same anymore.
I've changed.
 May 2013 Antelope
Brea Brea
I wanna kiss it
but its so hard
not sure how to bring it against my lips
and then my fingers up and slip
So soft
the place you make between my shoulders as they stand
the truth in your presence
the defautl in your eyes
unlike the lovely demise
in the powerful
but full of histories of deciet and self succumed lies
in a cloud on a pillar high
this is where I thought I might die
but death isnt the only escape
when beauty surrounds you from your mistakes
filters in through your insides
it leads you to a moutain top so high
the snow fall cleans you of your ***** hide
kiss you touch ouy
never call you mine
because I know better

not to contain higher things
clip thier wings

I gave my heart, I gve my soul
to the wronged of those

may I rest by your side
my ribcage exposed
to the love you know
from my touch
from my gental spirit
the light from behind my eyes
that reaches and finally does it touch
you heal me inside
you slip your sweet medicine between my lips
you swindle your breateh of life
I dont fight you with my hips
into my worried eyes
I fear not
not any more
so long as you are here
I can let go of this rope
lay your worried bones next to mine
and I'll do my very best to buy us this time
may the clock stop
as it does for the dead
because we are heaven lieing in your bed

kiss me once
kiss me twice
and I'll kiss you thrice
my worries drop as does this plunder
my thoughts roll from us like defeated thunder
I hold you whole
I hold you tight
I give you the same freedom, I give you the same rights
I heard you speak
of whats in your head
I'm smilling for the things you dont know that of which you said
fumbling in your sleep
you craddle my crown
as I dose myself in the sweet silent sound

I am fawn white
I am pure irridescent light
cloaked in darkness
hidden from sight
so that the goodness might prevail
even during teh trials of night

You, with orbs in your antlers
with moons on your tongue
you dont chase me
I realize I mustnt run
The power with in you
sends me still
even so, I am reeled
for the dangers I've met
for the dreams
I stir
I feel the safety in this allure
you sparkle in my eyes
from inside you
I see us side by side
standing tall
for authority we call

together we are safe
and with tired eyes
I will keep you warm and safe
to any and all expendeture
we are fair
a deiety in of itself
we are desired for being rare
 Apr 2013 Antelope
brooke
No,
I'm sure of it.
you are more
beautiful than
you think
(c) Brooke Otto
Something happened this morning
when I awoke to you lightly breathing.
It was sublime.
My chin rested on your shoulder
the skin so soft on my cheek.
I couldn’t help but kiss the sweetness.

On nights when I sleep alone
it does not matter how many blankets
wrap my restless body.
I wake cold.
Nothing is as warm as your arms.
Like that of a Texas breeze
on an August night.

I can only think to kiss
your unshaven face.  
The kisses are planted gently,
first your cheek,
then your temple,
and your forehead,
when I come to the tip of your nose
you stir slightly,
but I cannot stop.
I want it more then
the ocean waves need
the shoreline to crash upon.

Looking at your face
I smile at the odd way we met.
With a breath of *** and an intoxicated
grin we spoke.
“I don’t like you”
“Yea? Well I don’t like you first!”
Like children picking
on their first crush.
Tying to fight back the giggles.
Our childish ways still
run strong.

In your absence I sit
and watch the ticking minutes
laugh at my uneasiness.
Hours with others
are mere minutes with you.
The clocks envy
our cherished time
and tick-tock more rapidly
when we are alone.
All our time
would never be
enough.

When we get lost in each other,
the way the lonely roadrunner
looses himself as he runs
up and down
the oak covered hills,
it is love at its best.

This morning
when the soft breathes
you took woke me
and my chin rested upon
your shoulder,
something happened.
As the kisses fell
and your eyes continued to sleep;
I realized that this
is where I belong.
Drifting slowly  
into love with you.
Thank you for reading! Comments and criticism are always welcome!
You are the fragrance of dark coffee.
You're slow jazz and flamenco guitar -- depending on the weather.
You're the sweet smell that happens after it rains; and the soft pitter-patter of the rain that sings me to sleep --
You're that too.

And the caffeine and the lost jazz musician and the cold rain hitting his face as he walks home to the song of a memory and the smell of rain on brick -- almost sounds romantic, doesn't it?

You make my world romantic.

And not in the lovey-dovey sense of the word, not just that.

Romance as in the knight who seeks great treasure,
Mark Twain in his steamboat down the Mississippi,
The old sailor who sails the seas just for the constant surprise of just how beautiful the world is --

Romance as in adventure.

And you make me feel like the best kind of music,
And you make my  heart beat faster than caffeine,
And you make me feel as beautiful as when the moonlight shimmer against the dark clouds and it looks more exquisite than anything Van Gogh did.

And you --
You're more handsome than a starry night,
Better than the smell of good coffee,
more than any prior fabrication I'd ever had of "perfect--"

And I love you.
More than the smell of rain on brick.
I felt as if I had to write something grossly cute for him for Valentine's Day. So I did.
 Apr 2013 Antelope
Emma
"How are you?"
Such an empty question, with an even emptier answer:
"Good."

I'd like to tell (you) how
Everything I (see) looks disgusting to me.
Watermelon seeds are like bugs
eating away at the raw, juicy flesh.
The ground is infected with muddy snow.
The melting of it unearths carcasses of lost junk.
Leaves are discs of decay.
The wind breathes smoky, tarry clouds by
– fogging up my mind.
Tongues are like slugs; kissing is repulsive.
Bodies are malformed clumps of clay, painted with egos.
Slimy egos.
The emptiness corrodes me.
It's about to get paradoxical,
how full of caves (my) heart is,
each echoing:
"You. You. You."

I'd like to tell you
how when I think of you, my mind immediately jumps to:
Our budding tu(lips) touching.
Embracing you,
the comforting muscles of your arms like sculptured masterpieces,
sheltering me in a warm bubble.
Your breath whispering on my neck, my skin replying with static fuzz.
When I think of you even the puddles of mud look like silk.
The clouds (move) by like pillows of the sky.
Leaves, sheets of oneliness, become one
in an orchestra conducted by the wind.

I want to tell you everything
*(but you can't hear me.)
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