Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Jan 2014 carmen
adr
the ways
 Jan 2014 carmen
adr
I love the way you prance up the stairs in nothing but your boxers and socks. And the way your footsteps are so soft that I can barely hear them. Just hushed music in the quiet Sunday afternoon air. Like children when we dance.

I love the way your skin is so warm when you tangle yourself with me. Like there's a fire underneath every nerve. And the rhythm you drum on my legs under the blankets where no one can see. A secret song for only you and me.

I love the way we drive in your truck at night and find a secret place to park. Just so we can jump into the back and share kisses for awhile. And I love that the music never stops. It's always on low. And the moon beams down on us like a proud parent.

I love the way you fall asleep on me sometimes. Not even next to me or cuddled up to me. You've put your whole being on top of mine with your head turned on my chest. Within minutes you're asleep and I trace patterns in your hair to keep you there.

I love the way you gently breathe on my neck because you know that's my weakness. And when my mother calls and you distract me with your lips and the air. I stammer through the conversation, repeating things that don't matter. And I love the way you chuckle after every goosebump rises.  

I love the way you groan when I tell you I have to leave soon. And when I confess that I don't want to go and you whisper back, "Then don't." And the way you kiss me then, tangling your tongue with mine. They battle for the upper hand, and I love the way yours always wins.

I love the way you talk about the future like you've got it all written out in a storybook; pictures included. You know the color of your first sons' eyes and the way they'll shine in the moonlight during the tired nights. And I love the way you think you won't mind the sleepless weeks.

I love the way you shiver under my touch. And when I tease you tracing your trail to the very edge of your jeans you put your head back and watch me intently. And the way I hold the world in my hands for those few short moments. Like my next move decides your fate.

I love the way our hands have to bump three time before either of us have the courage to link together. And when we finally do you rub your thumb softly against mine. And I love the way our fingerprints line up and sew our skin together.

I love the way your name looks. On paper, on the screen of my phone especially at 2am. A two word poem. And the way it feels when it rolls off my tongue catching every emotion on the way out. Then it lands softly in the air and melts there. Too sweet to stay solid.

I love the way your scent follows me. And it clings to my sheets and all my clothes. And sometimes even when I know you're nowhere near a wave of it will hit me and crawl up my skin and fill my every pore.

I love the way you're so unashamed of your fear of scary movies. And you'll paint yourself to me and jump at all the right places. And when I look at you you're peeking out from under the blanket or hiding behind your hand, the one that isn't laced with mine.

I love the way we whisper in the dark. In between pressed lips you confide in me. Well I love the pale freckles on your arms that are only possible with porcelain skin and the shortened breath through your not-too-big teeth when I steal a kiss. And your hair never does what you want it to because my hands are always through it.

Forgive me. I love all and every which way.
But I do, dear, hate the way that you do not love me at all.
 Jan 2014 carmen
brooke
asleep on the floor of
the tub,I am fascinated
by how detailed the butterflies
on the shower curtain are
I like the way the weight
of the water leaves a disconnect
with the weight of my skin

and my mind goes elsewhere
where i am at his house with
a cat who I name Le chat noir
because he has no idea what I'm
saying, but the sound, the sound
the sound
the sound of it is nice


the shower hisses away.
(c) Brooke Otto 2014
 Jan 2014 carmen
Traveler
Can she see through creative eyes
Violet truths, purple lies

Can she feel me when I'm numb
Drink with me the pirate's ***

Can her touch bring me pleasure
Is her bounty hidden treasure

Where I'm going, when I come
Will she know if I'm done

When I bleed will she see red
Will my hungry heart be fed

Shall all be lost in lovers cove
Or shall love shine like stolen gold
Traveler Tim
06-2019
 Jan 2014 carmen
Kevin Bennett
#3
 Jan 2014 carmen
Kevin Bennett
#3
1
This world is not for me.
Society and all of its greed
And pride and fears and lies,
But I see - the Fields of green.

I see the forest beyond culture's smog.
I see rivers and meadows and in them I see God,
Not society's idols corrupting my mind,
But beauty in nature, for people I have no time

2
I don't hate man, I just hate men.
I reject the crowd, receive the critics
And then, when I can, I plan
To change their lives, to change their stance.
Their pre-contemplating outlook of meta-physical well-being will be
Their posthumous regret when the trumpets sound early.
They cannot possibly want to die this surely.

So why wait, why bother, why help those who ridicule the very foundation of existence?
For better or worse, I ask myself this
And demand an answer; demand a reply.
But to answer myself this would just be a lie,
Because in the end I just can't see myself here.
Down in the underbelly while God's world is out there.
Man was meant to live and love and learn and laugh and lavish in the dirt;
YES! The wondrous Earthen soil that brings life to this otherwise wasteland of a planet!
Do I sound crazy? Fine then. I'll can-it...
But let me leave you with this.

3**
While you squander your existence, I'm flying with J.L. Seagull.
While you sit on society's thrown, you'll never reach my level of regal,
For I am king of myself, I relish in happiness
I **** the marrow out of life and think not of shame or pride or possession or power
And therefore I must leave.
I wish you all the best of luck and hope some of you learn,
That you are just playing your fiddle and watching Rome burn.
Here I stand on the 108th parallel,
the bridge between sanity and belief,
a train station situated between the hectic and the inane,
around me stands a group of strangers.

Some of us are good looking,
some are intelligent,
some are both,
all are worthwhile.

Some are talented,
some are prodigies,
some will change the world,
all will succeed and all will fail.

Some are believers,
some are confused,
some will blaze trails,
others looking to them for direction,
all will eventually find their way.

Some will teach from the pulpit,
some from the altar,
and still others from the streets,
all will make a difference in his eyes.

Some of us will live happier ever after,
some will fight depression,
others will struggle with anxiety,
and in truth,
all are loved.

And so here I stand,
on the 108th parallel,
surrounded by friends,
in a place that we may one day forget,
but in the end,
when all is said and done,
the remnants will remain,
although the stitches holding us together are often unseen.
A.P. Beckstead (2014)
 Jan 2014 carmen
JK Cabresos
The night
was so enticing,
you're always
under my skin.

We chased
fireflies ---
under
the moonlight.

You then ran
towards me ---
and hugged
me tight.

I carried you
at my back,
you kept whispering
'I love you'.

We laid
on the grass ---
watched the shapes
of the clouds.

We then talked
about the future,
where we would say
each other's 'I do'.

You stopped
talking ---
you looked
me in the eyes.

I saw a tear
running on your
beautiful face,
I wondered.

I wiped it
with my thumb
and slowly ---
kissed your forehead.

The world
may seem too old
for this young love
we have now.

Yet I will always
wear my heart
on my sleeve,
my dear.

My only love,
I want to take you ---
to our  happily
ever after.
All Rights Reserved © 2014
 Jan 2014 carmen
The Romantic
I believe,
All along you were a waste.
I believe that you,
Have been a hypocrite since day one.
Expecting me to change,
Not knowing my love is only yours.
Knowing there was no air,
between Us.
I need not,
Crawl to what you do not understand,
is already mine.
Knowing I yearned your wrath every,
I said every,
Last breath of air I take.
Now you see?
You were an actor of first,
Deceitful piece of garbage.
You don't love me.
You never did.
As much love as I have,
I deserve forgiveness,
countless amounts of time.
Leave
get away from me,
Only when you die and,
let God explain,
How much
time you should have wasted trying
to make it work.
Love is part of Hate
 Jan 2014 carmen
Nat Lipstadt
you are just girl enough,
to be a real man...

so stand by me,
be a, be my man-girl,
shave that leathery face,
close and tight,
so I can kiss it smooth,
in front of everybody.

Go off to war, Cyrano,
write me love letters of
incredible tenderness,
poems as yet undreamt
come to me raggedy-man whole,
just enough girl in my man,
to make us both,
deliriously,
weep publicly.

Go ahead man,
write your beloved,
songs of the wars that worry you so,
that you don't show,
you think, I don't know,
but I am tough man tough enough,
plenty~enough,
to be yours,
not just the
woman, but that woman,
your beloved.

that bulge in your rear pocket,
not your wallet,
it's just some pocket tissues
you've been saving
for our reunion.

if you are afraid,
be not, be relieved,
you are just
girl enough,
to be a real man,
and I,

*well, I am tough man tough enough,
plenty~enough,
to be yours,
not just the woman,
but that woman,
your beloved
For WDE- 40
 Jan 2014 carmen
Helen
Swim **** it, Swim
So easy just to float
Come on, don't give in
Emotions clog my throat
It was easier yesterday
when standing  upon the cliff
Tears trembled upon eyelashes to say
Promote tomorrow not as when, but if*
as the waves toss a weary soul
swimming could just be a demise
splitting limbs to rearrange as whole
shedding a simple disguise
This body is not lost at Sea,
it just completed its journey
 Jan 2014 carmen
Elise
Stay
 Jan 2014 carmen
Elise
Inside all of us there lies something to be discovered
and I think the spark you put at the bottom of my lungs might be enough
to remember mine
you are a fire and I am ash
brand new, I feel sorry for eventually suffocating you
I hate cities
I hate people
but I love persons
I would get on a train right now just to watch
people spill like water into the underground
seemingly searching for something within the tunnels
some simply a way out
others a way in
some just to sleep
I saw a man with an airport under his skin once
and a woman next to him with clouds brushing lips with her fingers
they were holding hands
and I swear I heard the boarding call faintly as they exited
I hope he remembers to breathe
sometimes it rains on the subway
and sometimes you can't keep the sun out
people are always rushing to some
unknown endpoint
I'll sit in the corner and ride the blue line until they kick me off
far enough away so they can't touch me
but I can touch them
sometimes I'll close my eyes
imagine that this train is taking me home
imagine going down a snowy hill at 80
looking next to me, there you are
so I put on the brakes
"I only want to **** myself, I don't want to **** you"
I'll open my eyes
and see the life around me

maybe
I can
stay just a little longer
this might be a true story
Next page