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 Sep 2015
Sara Jones
Love me, hate me, bleed me dry.
Kiss me, touch me, make me believe
In happy endings and meant-to-bes.
Push me, pull me, **** me softly.
Make me sober, make me salty.
Make me miss you, make me love you
Until there's nothing left
But endless packs of half-smoked cigarettes
And bottomless bottles of Hennesy on my lips.
 Sep 2015
Kristo Frost
She's in the kitchen
(close the door)
just mixin' up some metaphor;
a true conundrum
through and through
and through to me and thus to you.

Her humble hunger
(forest's slumber)
thunders 'neath a wilting tune;
tuned to too many
to count without
a thought within.

She must profess
(but shall confess)
to any who will listen;
closely she holds
a tragic history
mostly mystery to most.

She solves my soul
(I deny that hole)
which she still fills;
overflowing always
with such unrelenting joy
that is My Love.
 Sep 2015
Nessa dieR
There has to be something
That can still keep us together,
And I won't stop searching
*Until I touch  forever.
 Sep 2015
SG Holter
Sit with me in silence.
Hold my hand with the hand
Of your mind.

I'll be your shadow; you be mine.  
We'll rest in two dimensions.
Watch ourselves in 3D.

Safe in the warmth of
Our common intentions. A womb,
A room for you and me.

Let's communicate like mountains;
Be like solid, silent giants.
Sit with me in silence.


A river dug into purest stone after
Uncountable years reflecting
Sunlight, moonlight, stars and blue

Skies unrejecting. Dark clouds too,
In some divine alliance.

*And deep within it's deepest deep,
Two single, uncut diamonds.
Until we're ground to grains of sand,
Sit with me in silence.
 Sep 2015
Bb Maria Klara
I give you my way past midnight tears,
My likes and loves, my hopes and fears.

I give you my wildest moans and screams,
and most surreal hopeful dreams.

I give you more than my supply
of smiles to share and drops to cry.

I give you all there is to me:
The flaws and not flaws that you see.

I give you my tortured, broken mind,
perhaps 'twas pretty at first find.

I give you my weaknesses and strengths,
and the loves I swear of unending lengths.

I give you my joys as well as my sorrows,
the reasons why I hope of better tomorrows.

I give you and just you more than what I am.
Should I lose my mind I would not give a ****.

I give you the things that might make me perfect,
and also the mean things my devils reflect.

I give you my brightness and darkness as well,
and all I can give you, more than I can tell.

I give you your needs so that you would stay
and simply be with me each and every day.

I give you my body, my soul, my love,
hoping I'm something you won't dispose of.

I give you my life, freedom, and heart;
and all things I can't say in this way of art.

I give you my past, my present, my future.
Everything for you, my dear paramour.

I give you all it will take to convince,
that you are my love, my master, my prince.

I give you what I hope will be enough,
though I fall apart when times get rough.

I give you everything, my sun and stars:
The old and the new of my heart's battle scars.
This was written 8/20/2015. Minor revisions upon posting. I struggled, because I read the stanzas from bottom to top and I could not decide whether which way was better. I'm just going to stick close to how it was written as an emotional wasteland on my bedroom floor.
 Sep 2015
Angelina
I want to feel his feather-soft fingertips grazing the curves of my body,
To reverently hold him in my arms beneath the pale moonlight,
To feel the heat of his skin on mine.
I yearn for the warm, insistent coaxing of his lips,
The sound of his whispering voice,
And the feeling of his breath tickling my ear.
I want tenderness in his beautiful eyes, his words, his touch.
I long for his capable arms, his easy smile, the masculine smell of his body.
I need gentleness within his insistence, desire within his need, compassion within his reckless abandon.
I don't want *** from him,
I want to make love.
 Sep 2015
Gianfranco Aurilio
Is it more beautiful the moon
or the sun?
A night of stars
or a day of summer?
A drop of dew
or a reflection on the water?
Is it more beautiful
the almond tree in spring
or the mimosa
in its most intense yellow?
Don't ask me
what I love most
because an ocean
wouldn't be enough
to appease my thirst
and the universe
to fill up my heart.

20.2.'13
The original poem ("Il più bello") is in Italian.
There is no good translation for a poem.
I apologize for mine. Corrections are welcome.
 Sep 2015
M
let's sit and be nothing, do nothing,
in the silence and murmur of the flowers
while the breeze holds and hugs those who sit alone
and let our hearts move with this wind.
 Sep 2015
Anais Nin
And then the day came,
when the risk
to remain tight
in a bud
was more painful
than the risk
it took
to Blossom.
XXXII

The first time that the sun rose on thine oath
To love me, I looked forward to the moon
To slacken all those bonds which seemed too soon
And quickly tied to make a lasting troth.
Quick-loving hearts, I thought, may quickly loathe;
And, looking on myself, I seemed not one
For such man’s love!—more like an out-of-tune
Worn viol, a good singer would be wroth
To spoil his song with, and which, snatched in haste,
Is laid down at the first ill-sounding note.
I did not wrong myself so, but I placed
A wrong on thee. For perfect strains may float
’Neath master-hands, from instruments defaced,—
And great souls, at one stroke, may do and doat.
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