With what fresh linen do you lay,
that man gives at no expense
e v e r y thing.
In a coffee-house
not far from where the sun gifted me with my mother
I realize that everyone looks like something out of the best noir film;
The brew sitting next to my state of the art technology
leaves a taste on my tongue that I long to rid;
A couple sits ,happy,
aloof to what God has warned them;
I'm not the only one who has been darkened.
His bark shall be tempest-tossed.
Here I have a
Hand in hand
of the Sea and land
I lay unto
This is a black-out poetry warm-up that was completed today in my Creative Writing class.
I want to hold her.
Sometimes I wish to curve myself onto every inch of her wild body.
We share a skin-ship,
and it is because of this that tension arises.
We casually breed an exotic essence,
a colorful blend of warm, unbidden hues.
From an outside perspective it cannot, will not be understood.
We have both succeeded in the task of draining each other's sanity;
She because I am needy,
(Constantly pulling and pushing);
And I because she is stubborn --
She is like the iron strings of a freshly bounded Acoustic guitar.
To have such a person as my muse,
I cannot tell whether I am blessed,
or if I am hexed beyond all compare.
It is not that I am in love with her,
or her golden-flecked vermilion tresses.
I simply, implicitly feel the need to explore her.
It is I who implores her bold ambiguity,
whilst she stands bare to my artistry.
Today I kissed a girl,
she smelled of pine trees--
I clearly remember,
she burns like a fire-pit in my mind.
The one who wears,
and bears indie-fashion,
and empty promises to her boy-friend.
A lovely girl with untamed hair that falls to the small of her back,
today I kissed her;
Today I confused her;
To-day I surprised her;
Today I mortified her.
This is the result of my rebelling slightly to my own human-nature. Enjoy.
It is only plausible that,
at your most ******,
you deliver me pain --
pain through your writings,
pain is pleasure,