Glistening with wetness,
fingers fitting in like Tetris.
Cream dripping on the mattress.
Pillow firming press against your ****,
gyrating to the thoughts of being licked.
Then ****** on like a twisted piece of licorice.
Pleasure leaking from your body through your hips
Desire holding your body captive like a hypnotist
Your skin crawling with desire screaming it's fix
Drowning your finger in a pool of your juices
Your hips ****** and twist,
and mind, lift and dip.
Our bodies working a full shift,
like we were built for each others fit.
You biting on the sheets,
I'm biting on your lip,
****** at the same time;
when our world eclipse-
our-space doesn't exist.
Off to another world,
a briefly escape to,
a pleasure abyss.
The ***** man is here to see you,
his eyes make you stumble, and
it makes you glow red.
laughing, what’s the matter?
The ***** man is back again,
he wants you so bad.
Your life is miserable already,
why not give him a hand.
To someone you love
Is like reading the final page
Of an amazing book.
As the last chapter ends
You begin to notice
Just how beautiful
The plot always was.
You appreciate the joy
And even the pain
As you read and thumb
Through every page.
The moral of the story,
You realize you've reached
The end of this journey.
Although the last sentence
Is the most difficult to read
Another great book awaits
Once you turn the final page.
Eventually you may stumble
Upon yet another great find.
Or maybe you'll return
To the book you left behind.
You may just discover
Once all is said and done
That this particular book
Was your favorite story
For Ty & Des ❤️
If I was a mountain
That soared towards the sky,
With craggy snow caps
And stormy grey eyes-
Then you'd be the clouds
That swaddled my peak,
That silenced my thunder
When I tried to speak.
If I was the earth
The desert, in fact:
With arid dry soil
And mud, baked and cracked-
You'd be the rain
The downpour that soothed;
The balm to my bruises,
Relief to my wounds.
If I was the Moon
In the indigo night,
With stars as my blanket
And silver; my light-
Well you'd be the Sun
Just always behind
That lent me your glow
And caused me to shine.
thy hair is one kingdom
the king whereof is darkness
thy forehead is a flight of flowers
thy head is a quick forest
filled with sleeping birds
thy ******* are swarms of white bees
upon the bough of thy body
thy body to me is April
in whose armpits is the approach of spring
thy thighs are white horses yoked to a chariot
they are the striking of a good minstrel
between them is always a pleasant song
thy head is a casket
of the cool jewel of thy mind
the hair of thy head is one warrior
innocent of defeat
thy hair upon thy shoulders is an army
with victory and with trumpets
thy legs are the trees of dreaming
whose fruit is the very eatage of forgetfulness
thy lips are satraps in scarlet
in whose kiss is the combinings of kings
which are the keepers of the keys of thy blood
thy feet upon thy ankles are flowers in vases
in thy beauty is the dilemma of flutes
thy eyes are the betrayal
of bells comprehended through incense
Never fall in love with a poet
for their words are sometimes lies
on occasions they're a shield
on occasions a disguise
They will take you on a journey
upon which they bare their soul
in a bid to ease your burdens
in a bid to make you whole
But in every word they choose
for the stories that they tell
lies a little piece of heaven
and a little piece of hell
Tormented souls we poets are
sometimes quite broken and despaired
in search of lost expressions
missed by others who once cared
Never fall in love with a poet
unless you're prepared to share their pain
to hold them close on the darkest nights
over and again
Follow me on Twitter @athomashawkins
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
— The End —