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astroaquanaut Aug 2017
innocent touch and exchange of breaths
my romantic thirst and your lustful yearnings
in a place where we could only trace our forms
left with nothing but to erotically fancy

monstrosity unleashed
and i am gripping your thigh
you are plotting kisses
but nothing to signify

bite my lip, there’s more to show
went too deep yet gone shallow
astroaquanaut Apr 2017
embracing a forgotten dream
a touch that has transcended eternities
with all disquiets and elapsed relationships
will you be the last stop of my wavering?

but forgive me, honey
i can only love you from afar
without your consent
without you knowing
astroaquanaut Feb 2017
years ago, i was sixteen
at present, the fragments of you still haunt me
i kissed him to disremember
but our past embers only grew warmer

i'm now at your age where you used to love me
i'm now at the right age where you could love me

at liberty, appropriate, and settled
understanding yet still foolish
the remains were never forgotten anyway
but now we both got our lives in place

come home, and if we could just try
again, i'll be sixteen while you're twenty one
astroaquanaut Oct 2016
signs are twinges of reality
that have subjective meaning
inexplicable but wanted
answers could be displeasing
but must be willingly taken

responses given by the stars
which we ask and even wait for

however, it is still our choice,
whether to wholly accept
or dismiss signs
as random happenings
astroaquanaut Oct 2016
moments of seamless kilohertz,
i could not distinguish
depolarize, over-romanticize
this painless sensation of shock
hence i ask between
static radio frequencies
*don’t you want me, baby?
astroaquanaut Aug 2016
the moment you reach the point
wherein a play is no longer a spectacle
oxymoron is glorified and inner mayhem develops
blinded by flickering lamppost lights
drunk dancing at the empty streets was the aftermath
i’m winning you and losing this game at the same time
the countdown starts
can i be yours in
five
four
three
two

*one
astroaquanaut Apr 2016
every flip obscures the history of glances
even the spine has a peculiar trace
frayed pages, dog-eared corners
smudged,  stained
ruined, disfigured
no wonder
it’s the interesting book
you recently found at the restricted section
that felt the touch of my fingertips long ago
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