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CyRhen Sohngs Jun 2014
I felt him between my thighs and my heart sang songs my mind didn't even know it knew.
Warm and honeyed thoughts fill me until I am full and I am ready to concede defeat and open myself for his occupation.

But doesn't it always?
The body delights in new and welcome sensations and the head creates them.
I could easily dismiss it all as a ballet of chemical reactions and well placed hands, profoundly meaning

"Nothing".

Because everyone knows when the heat dies down, and the temperature drops, when the passion has waned like the moon, and the tide falls, only the bare bones of you are left and there are only calcium pillars to protect the flame.

Because everyone who has loved, even as a passing thought, has been left in the wake of warring bodies to observe the aftermath.
Was the tenderness making way for lust?
Did every kiss have a drop of hard truth imbued that I missed?
Were his hands caressing shallow intentions into my sensitive skin?
Did I miss the message?
Or were my eyes too open in awe, that they had closed on the casual way his hands and lips met my own?

"And what had all this been for?" Is the question that dances on the outskirts of my mind, while the meeting of my thighs still burned, and my heart had descended into free fall.

Satisfaction? Fear? Gratification? Doubt?

Love?

The worst feeling, of course, not being betrayal, confusion, shame, or loss, but plainly, uncertainty.

Nothing hurts the heart worse than not knowing.
CyRhen Sohngs Aug 2013
For I am a creature of the night, born to glide along the edges of your mind, and call out to you when you need it least.
Born to move like silk against your skin, and be soft, and cool to the touch. Made to taste of honey and cream so as to fill your mind with hazy sweetness, born to obsess your thoughts.
A creature of the dark made to draw you in with eyes like the moon, big, and bright, and full.
Lips like fruit flesh, saccharine and refreshing, hands like water flowing over the skin, comforting, but harsh as if to wash away your fears, and filth.
I am made to be what you wish me to be,
at any given time.
Made to be your Keeper.
Made to be yours.
CyRhen Sohngs Jul 2013
Eyes cross paths.
Darting to avoid the other.
A dance of dark brown and blue.
Smiles to show fondness, and smiles that show affection,
those smiles, you'll never see.

Words spoken in haste that make the school children blush
and sing nursery rhymes that are both cruel and true.
and words you'll never hear me say.

A volley of suggestions and misleading requests.
A lie.
My lie.
For you.
The lie that I give to you
as a gift
like the glances and moments I wish that we shared.

The thoughts in passing that make me sigh
the kind that would make old lovers coo in rememberance.
The longing gaze from across the way
the gaze I pray you do not notice.

The lie.
My lie.
The lie that sits in my stomach and sours.
The lie that I wish I didnt have to tell.
The lie I tell for you.

Or for myself.
The line blurs and I'm hopelessly lost,
lost in feelings of high school adolecence and mid-summer nights.
lost in my love.
Lost in my lie.


Oh, it's nothing.
CyRhen Sohngs Jul 2011
Sending you crossed kisses and looped hugs
Wishing for the longest goodbyes
You are just out of my reach
The vacuous glow of the monitor captivates me
and I forfeit my love to the pixels

How close you seem, until I lay down to rest and your absence becomes known
the blankets, thin, like you, but too thin to fill the void
The moon is too cold to replace your warmth

The cold reminds me of how much I missed you, I care not to remember.

The bitter taste of tea without you
the scent has no senses to tantalize

The study conveys the impression of empty
The silence we can't share
And the chair in which you might sit
is as lonely as ever with no company but dust

The harsh bite of nicotine on my lips
reminds me of yours
and I long for them.
Soft and bitter
like the cigarettes you so love
And the death I've learned to savor in your wake

Seeing words arranged beautifully remains reminiscent of you
And poetry, itself reminds me of your breath.



In the leaves at the bottom of the cup I see the day that we met

and in the sun I am reminded of how fond you were of the dark

and in the ashes of my loneliness I'm reminded of what's to become

of us.
CyRhen Sohngs Jul 2011
I dreamt about how I wish
you were the boy you said
you'd be.

You crossed your T's you dotted your I's and your heart belonged to me.

Your touch was soft, you held me close, I felt your love, a love to boast
about and when it ended I had cried.

The boy I wished you were is gone.

You lied.
CyRhen Sohngs Jun 2011
Visions of him start to smear

as she looks into his eyes

His pain and screams a mystery to her

and all she sees is lies



He paid for this when her hatred grew

Not in gold or silver, but in life

in the currency of blood

into the purse of her knife



Once the image of an angel

now an incubus, most foul

Thinking back on her tears

she fails to notice his agonizing howls



And she sighs



Hands sticky

brow cold

Heart breaking

and it's all getting old



The moment has passed

and she sees what she has done

The light in his eyes dims

and then he is gone



She sits down beside him

feeling warmth for the first time in years

Loosing control of tendons

Too numb to feel her own tears



Her love ran beneath them

like a sea of red regret

as she stroked his hair and closed her eyes

and kissed the lips of death
CyRhen Sohngs Jun 2011
As we hold our tongues in our heads, like nuclear threats, we are sure that those three words, that simple three word voice command, will be the end of us both, in a beautiful bloodbath, *** like war.

Two entities struggling for power and satisfaction, an atomic blast that is sounded with a sigh and an arch. The aftermath, sheer destruction, nothing anymore dominant than the next, everything melting into itself and one another. An overwhelming lump of calm and submission.

A skirmish for primitive power and oneself. The treaty of two bodies, silent, secretly sweet, and sullen. A whitewash of disdain where passion had just been.

*** like War
Anger is an Aphrodisiac
Hate is fuel for Passion
Love is and Instigator

We couldn't hate enough to love.
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