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They call it a Loveseat because it was designed for you to make love on it
We have to re-rate all those G-rated films with Loveseats in them
They imply ****** tension
And we don't want that exposed to our children!
It's the work of the devil!
I demand action on them now!
Can't you see i'm joking?
We're merely close to twenty years of this century
And it's only gotten more ridiculous
The future awaits
For more loveseat incidents
And people up in arms over tedious, pointless things that nobody should care about
But ISIS? That Egypitan babe has been dead for so long! What are you talking about?
There's no way that old darling is still alive?
Terrorism? What's that?
Is that the term they use when they see Loveseats in G movies?
Probably the most sarcastic poem i've ever written, maybe ever.
Brittany Wynn Mar 2015
For every night we've spent sitting on loveseats
crying about mistakes and burdens promising to haunt
us for the rest of our under-grad, I could've gotten a humanities
degree two years ago.
tloco  Jul 2015
Love's Bounty
tloco Jul 2015
Love’s bounty
The nurturing ***** blooming with beauty naturally borne
Affectionately passed along taught through the smallest cares the soul shares
Passion makes the high rush like feelings of a long crush
Couple left wandering in their fevering desire of bliss waiting upon each other’s kiss
The simplest songs and choirs of angels adore the heart beats and sight of loveseats
Take your fill of love and grow become with it and know
Vincent JFA Mar 2017
I protect my heart
because I don't trust my sternum
to be man enough to take the impact
of circumstances such as car crashes,
or rejection, or crippling disappointment.
and if there's a pain to be felt
from never feeling vulnerable—
I've thought about it time and again,
but mostly I keep busy, feeding my heart
lemon meringue and poetry,
to distract it while I fortify the ramparts,
so I don't have to pay attention

to whether it hurts or frees me,
to make that first move,
that the stories say lead to a kiss
or a long-awaited confession
that's probably never been more
than a stupid pipe-dream anyway
that's made Hollywood trillions of dollars
selling false promises and popcorn,
and has made fools like me
embarrassed and dizzied on their loveseats

ignoring the sight of the vacant spot
in their peripherals by waking and baking,
over-polishing apples, and counting floorboards—
tuning in to old jazz and blues
to counter the dead quiet of the living room,
pinching sugar between their fingers
to counter the bitter taste of the coffee
that they ******* hate drinking,
but it gives them something to do,
something warm to cradle in their palms
when Fridays alone start to feel pathetic.

and while I make plans to hear a voice
or see a face that I miss, and let my hair
fall over my shoulders tangle-free,
polish up my smile, and freshen up my favorite jacket
with a shot of dragon's blood and sandalwood,
my shoes stay where I left them a week ago,
and I never follow through with that phone call.

I'm the protector of my heart,
because I know no one else
is looking out for it more than their own,
and it's worth the risk of being unkissed,
as long as my sternum stays whole,
and that small, red empire not left jaded,
and my pride still intact.
Brittany Wynn Apr 2020
Exultant from a few Tuesday night
Adderall highs, strung out on sleepless
Spotify, we retreat to your car, lighting a few
bowls and I find myself in a mirror—
lacquered eyes and speaker feedback
lead me along the wall, fingers
catching the telephone jack.
You lower me slowly, cool,
cotton sheets against my shoulders
and while you kiss my ribs,
I remember two nights ago—you fell

asleep before I even unhooked my bra
in a half-assed, half-dreaded, C+ cup effort.
But I look at my black socks, chew
my nails away, and drag the jagged lines
along your spine, the textbook
I don’t want to return.

We’ve sat on loveseats for hours,
days, crying over mediocrity,
the –isms, drunken mistakes meant to haunt
us long past under-grad. In class we
discuss darkness, the psyche, and morality,
but I just want to draw my uneven
hearts in the margins.
Feeling nostalgic, and it's been too long so I thought I'd put this one back up.

— The End —