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she dreams of him at night
touching herself
under the covers

silent beautiful moans
escape her parted lips
as her dainty fingers
linger to the most
precious part of her

slowly moving in and out
imagining it's him
touching her all over

she closes her eyes
picturing his rough
large hands roaming
all over her petite body

her breath hitches
her toes curl
her stomach knots

it's coming
she's coming

all because of him

- wet dreams
when u have a ******* ab the boy u like so u write ab it???
 Sep 2017 jude rigor
fdg
I'm eating like a normal human being
To fuel myself
Treating myself well
I deserve it, I know
But it's making me panic
feeling your lips against mine
so soft and angelic
moving in sync
with each other

you taste like fireworks
exploding in my mouth
each kiss feels different

rougher and rougher
our lips attacking
like they are at war

- kissing you
made out w a girl in Mexico over the summer this is ab her
 Sep 2017 jude rigor
KD Miller
9/16/2017

i sat on the corner
and stared
until you woke up

in the car, later,
the sun dipping under
the trees

and painting the air
dark blue
i remembered the vermillion summer sun

frowned deeply, for some reason
i didn't say anything
you looked at me and smiled

i had to, too.
we sat by the woods
the car quiet and still

two hunters came out of the woods
and later, back out:
empty handed.

i looked over your side and over the seat:
saw your blue reflection, the moonlight sheer

and
objects seen in mirror
are closer than they appear
but isn't the real tragedy that I found myself within you
as you briefly gazed into the mirror that is me and walked away
isn't the real tragedy that I have become a vise of borrowed space
a gap to be filled by hands I have reached for in the dark
that I have misplaced my emptiness for loneliness
and in return
lost count of the bodies I have slipped into like old coats
trying to find the one that shapes me into the woman I was before you left
my bones may be empty but my fists are full of the laughter of native ghosts
mocking me for holding onto a love less real than they are
isn't the real tragedy that I can't place the nights I have attempted to answer my question of grief with ***
a wreckage of ash perading as anguish
but isn't that love
not seeing the explosion when you are the bomb
isn't the real tragedy that I am alive purely by luck at this point
that I am nothing more than a decorated shipwreck
*an obituary
my very own ceremony
don't waste your breath
telling me to get better, talk ***** to me
don't hold your breath
hoping i try to help myself.
if you're going to hold my neck
hold it a lot tighter than that,
don't forget to push down
on my windpipe with your palm,
we're wrapped up in these bedsheets
because i want you to hurt me.
i want to see the rope burn on my wrists glisten
where it's begun to tear away at my flesh
and i like to feel real tangible knots
when i'm ******* in self loathing.
i struggle to find the line between
lovesick and depressed or
being a *******. what's the big difference.
either way i wake up with bruised
blue lips and oxygen deprivation,
and fresh linens wet with singeing liquids,
and a pain in my stomach or lungs that means
i'm still breathing slightly.
i wanted you to **** me.
a chain as strong as its weakest link
each link close enough to feel the distance
still dreaming to be on the verge of touch,
         reaching out out of reach
      even a sturdy soul may falter

      alone together hand to hand
        
a union the sum of its mindful grip
  faith in the strength of love strong
    the heart opens unconditionally
   encompassing all that is in doubt

        reaching out to strengthen
                   arm to arm
               hand and hand
                 grasping love  
        the unbreakable chain-link


someone you used to know ... 2017
Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.
-William Wordsworth
 Sep 2017 jude rigor
wordvango
wander-fairers gloat  in seeming  calmness
about the depths of the seas they've  traversed
tropical palms thus plucked
on Wayfaring waves a  day
in the past
Storms fierce they gallantly
heroically faced taut strong
unending

The Eartheners pout in earnest
of the soil taken and
the mineral reserves being stolen
of gold reserves and conspiracies
while painters talk about ivory
and elephants with
abstract art all the critics rave
how that touched them

The Realists resolve to see
each sunrise sunset as
a Godspeed to destiny
an earthly climatic episode in
a timeline of finality
seeing doom ahead.

I like to take a breath.
Have a banana split.
If that's not available
maybe some cornbread in sweet
cream possibly a strawberry
in season.

Taste a smile. Throw a compliment.
Maybe careless how I do it at times.
But bask in the comedy
of errors and randomness.
Seek an ism in the growth of my own
sadism, a ick in my
lack of understanding. And just be peaceful.
Lie down.
 Aug 2017 jude rigor
martha
Friendship
What is the first thing to enter your head when I say this word?
It could be rainbows
or braided bracelets
or that infamous song from spongebob

For me, it is that first time I hadn't seen you in a while.
summer had pulled us apart to follow in our own ways the paths our parents set out for us to follow
and your arms opened wide and your legs took the form of a film reel long finished as soon as I came into view
and I followed your lead
as if running towards the softest
warmest
most loving embrace I would ever receive
from the worlds most adorable teddy bear.

It is the time you cared enough to ask how I was with a stern face
and tried to trick me into being alone with you so you could talk some sense into me
after giving you a heart attack the night before in the form of Helvetica text font filled text messages dotted with guilt and crossed with "I'm sorry"'s.

It is the countless sleepovers that seem to have all blended into one neverending night
full of dreary eyes and cheeks worn from the pushing of grins
smiling at the most simple things became customary
and laughing morphed into tears around 3am or so
and I held your hand as sharp words flew from your mouth and rolled down your cheeks as you spoke about a demon long since diminished.

It is the way we arrived back late after a 4 hour drive in the middle of the night and our dreams took place under a duvet in a double bed shared between 3
our ears were still ringing from the sound of overplayed static and our feet were sick of standing but we managed to fit anyway,
I sleep so well surrounded by the bodies of the two people I admire the most with every fibre of my living being,
just close enough for the comfort of 3 in a single bed after too many cans on your 18th birthday.

It is the time I couldn't walk straight after only 3 pathetic glasses of gallery wine
you had to leave
but all I wanted was for you to come back so I could spill secrets I couldn't tell the others yet with ease
because your ears always seemed the softest to rest my worries on
and you are so skilled in the art of dissolving them afterwards
that I only hope I can always do the same for you.

It is the slow walk up the driveway each morning to the desolate institute filled with others draped in the same navy fog that comes with waking up
which became so much lighter when I would remember that you were inside its walls
waiting for me with a warm smile and a laugh that could move mountains and shakes my very soul
something it still does so well even after weeks of missing you
and the way your radiating joy infects me so easily every time
no matter what kind of walkway brings us together.

it's the time you came over equipped with glass bottles and liquid happiness
and I never felt more at home than I did after seeing the sky stretched out above us and the nights cold breath causing goosebumps to erupt beneath our pyjama-clad frames
and we were all that existed in our cocoon of comfort,
how when we sat down to contemplate the reality of our existence
I was suddenly okay with the idea of physical affection
and I still am.

it is the time I was choking on everything I felt I could never get far enough to move past my lips
but you sat there
smiling
held my hand in yours
and helped me to dilute all the poison that had seeped into my blood because of him for 2 years too long
while you justified the importance of me to myself
and your eyes were the most reassuring thing my own had ever had the comfort of witnessing.

it's the way you embody everything beautiful I've ever admired the human race for
and how, no matter the weather,
I know getting coffee, tea,
or chocolate soya milk
and talking about your new favourite song
how you found this great new band
the impossibility of the ethereal beauty of girls
and even boys sometimes
or how this one character in that tv show you told me about makes me feel things I can't describe,
will always eliminate the clouds my shoulders find too heavy to hold on a sunday morning.

I will never be capable of expressing how grateful I am with the words 'thank you'
because those two syllables barely scratch the surface of the immensity of hope and happiness you bring into my life unlike any other I could begin to try and imagine

I am blessed with the most beautiful souls who have shaped my own in ways I will never forget
and I will never forget the way your hand gestures tell your stories
or the way your eyes illuminate electric blue when you talk about that band you love so much
or the way your whole body laughs uncontrollably at the most ridiculous of things with me
or the way your smile makes me feel like everything is going to be okay in the end
or how the reassurance of your small hands and eternal hugs is a constant reminder that I am, in fact, loved.

I don't know how long you will stay in my life.
if we will be stretched to the edge of our reasoning
pulled apart by distance
or unmissable opportunities
kept barely intact by group chats or late night phone calls that aren't the same as the times each others faces were the only sources of light at the end of too many long and tired days.

but for now
I thank you
and I love you.
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