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Strying Oct 2021
all I see are
crashing waves
purple and orange,
and yet my mind
thinks only of you.
Bansi Adroja Oct 2021
I can blame the champagne
for signing my heart away
to cheap thrills
bruised knees

On the back of your motorbike
riding through the city
as if life made sense

The Springsteen records you played
were stuck in my head

Just like you
Anais Vionet Aug 2021
My sweet little gran-mire is 94 Years old.
She still works, as the chairwoman of the family trust
- you can call her “Godfather.”

The “frail old lady” is a humorous disguise she dons
to bamboozle the unwitting - think tiger stripes.

Don’t be fooled, or lulled and don’t ever try to BS her.
The business cosmos wheels behind those eyes.
Her heart was replaced with an abacus, centuries ago.
She’s met everyone in the world who matters.
She has body guards and minions.

Tonight there’s a small birthday party
at the Musée Marmottan Monet (museum) in Paris.

When she comes in, the 40 or so guests formed
an impromptu receiving line - so I queued up too.

Stewards regularly pass and I manage to gulp down
two flûtes of champagne while on line (I LOVE Paris).
This has the makings of a great party.

Finally, it was my turn. we cheek kissed (fait la bise).  
I took her small, gloved hand in mine
and it struck me that little white gloves are genius.

“Thank you for inviting me,” I said
inching closer because the music was loud,
“Nothing tops a big-budget party.” I said.
“We agree.” she said with a nod.
“Happy Birthday.” I mouthe.
We la bise again and I moved on so the conga-line could progress.

Ooo! Another steward!
Imagine what all you could experience in 94 years.
Jasmine Reid Mar 2021
Proudly he handles the bottle, bellowing about her as if she were a person

She's not fine wine, she's aged wine.
kept in the dark; alone with her thoughts
low in the earth; like a corpse
and given all the time in the world to ferment; she's rotting

Her glass is smooth you see, and cool to the touch; like the pavement on which she fell
The curves are unique to every bottle; her carcass so pretty
And the deepest green you'll ever see on a bottle; like her eyes

I have preserved her so! To keep her how she should be!
that's how he wanted to see me

She has aged well, for almost 20 years you see.
still as young as ever

But this is a special occasion; they found me
Go fetch some glasses; I can hear them digging
And we'll celebrate her.
what happened in this story?
Broadsky Dec 2020
your head laying on my chest in the still hours of the night reminds me of tree branches dancing in the moonlight

your lips moving over the peaks of my ******* sends memories of us flowing into my head like water rippling up to a river bed

your love is like skipping stones on a calm lake, when you look at me I feel these walls I’ve built start to break, and the barbed wire around me start to deteriorate

I’ve never known a love so true

I’ve never fallen for a boy like you

when you kiss me I see comets and cosmos, and shooting stars too, I feel the pull of the earth and the coolness of the moon, I feel the ground shake beneath me and flowers start to bloom in all the cracks and crevices, can’t you smell the perfume?

if you are truly mine, now and forever, then I’ve loved you since the dawn of time when we were just visions and thoughts in God’s glorious mind

you are the wind rushing through my hair, you are the creaks in the steps going up the stairs

you are the home where I want to rest my head, just to wake up in the morning and do it all again.

I love you effortlessly, like the clouds love the sky. I’ll say it again and again til it’s etched in the scrolls of time

your love keeps me high, it’s pure and utter bliss; can you feel the butterfly wings flutter as we kiss?

like the dew on a blade of grass at dawn, you kiss my palm, I love you baby because you’re warm and sweet like cardamom.

like chamomile and kava

like ashwagandha and marijuana

like rosé and champagne

after tasting you, I’ll never be the same.
Written for a boy I love
Lu Wilson Jun 2020
Everything sounds better in french
On this belief I can surely rely

They have the gorgeous Pomme Frittes
While we have the boring french fry

In France a crispy, fresh and warm baguette
At my house just a mediocre loaf of regret

There is quite nothing better than a glass of French Champagne
Our domestic impostor "Sparkling Wine" isn't winning that game

Naturally to seal this case I will end with the perfect French kiss
Because a plain peck or a smooch is so much easier to dismiss

Clearly I have a sophisticated foreign thirst to quench
Mon amour, because everything sounds better in French
Heard a french song and I've decided everything sounds better in French
Hamies May 2020
i woke up
alone again
and the last sips of champagne still rest in the glass we shared drinking from last night
the bed sheets still carry your fragrance
which otherwise wouldn't have been remembered
and the ashtray, laying within two burned out cigarettes, smoked after the sensational miracle of love

but anyways,
no goodbye note
no message
i woke up,
after lust without love
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