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calypso Jul 2022
i feel the heat in my cheeks
and from your hands
say it again
when i sleep
when i lay on fields
when i pick on the pedals
whisper it in my ear when we're alone
to me, it lost its meaning, becoming
an overused invaluable phrase
something everyone expects but never gets
i did for sure, and learned my lessons
but from you, it was different
nothing less than my shooting star wish
i landed on the right pedal
you say it when you are
when i think you're not, but you mean it
but you always remind me
and show me you do,
i do too.
im drowning in a field of flowers when im with him, more when im looking at him. he's my heartbeat. i finally have my fairytale!

i wrote "...,becoming" because it took time to be what it is today and to me.
Man May 2021
trickling down cheeks
the beads of sweat gather on chins
jaw lines glisten
chalk on asphalt
contenders equidistant, soon to be unison
two of them
each reach for the first to get
to the line
a place for few of them
bronze rusts, and silver runs
but nothing like us
off that starting gun
all at a chance
to watch the refs
wave the flags
and decide a winner
go for gold
outside the champion's circle
are shoulders cold
if you don't give it all
you're no pro
you're an amateur
a beginner, 1st in show
sodden cheeks
drenched in sorrow's repine  
the drops fell
with a saddening gush    
little by little
the sides of the
face felt less wet
as the air of solace
toweled the harrowed skin
for an age
drab raining clouds
each day the tourment
of loss being there to
of a suffering ache  
of the stress in agony
of the constant wailing  
not on the wane
out of the dark pall  
of demise
the bright sun's light
the hours of grief
NB: The above poem, was written after being given a word prompt by a friend... the word is GRIEF. It is written in (Free Verse) which I rarely use in my poetry.
Madisen Kuhn Mar 2021
come here. i’ll wrap myself around you
most of the time i’m sure i’m a sliding glass door
obvious like a schoolgirl crush
never able to hide the pink in my cheeks
or bury the truth behind enough broken parables
i’m about as vigilant as a chihuahua
perched on top of a sofa barking at the mailman
forgetting for a moment that you could pick me up
and put me down on the floor but
i promise i’ll just jump back up again
never fully accepting the plainness of my bluff
the winters crack my knuckles but
i don’t want to buy another pair of gloves
i’ve got ripped fingernails turned ******
and a kitchen sink full of unwashed mugs
and you’re pulling my hands away from my face
trying to show me how much we look the same
Payton Feb 2021
I begged you to forgive the tears that rolled down my cheeks when I saw you again.
It has been so long and I’d almost forgotten the contour of your face in the moonlight.
If not for short notice, I’d have missed you again.
We always run in different circles, but tonight we seemed to cross paths.
You remembered every detail about me, love. Where to kiss, where to touch.
But every time we spend time apart, I forget where the treasure is buried in you.
Though, now I am beginning to realize it’s not in your body, but your soul.
Let this night be one to remember, not one to regret.
My dear, on the cold, bleak December evening, don’t you dare forget what I said to you when you held me closer than any clothes ever could do.
Don’t make me regret saying I loved you.
This poem was written in 2017.
Payton Feb 2021
"You write so beautifully, your mind must be a terrifying place," he
said softly, though he hadn't uttered a single word.

It was his eyes that spoke to her the most.

She surrendered herself to the tears that raced down her cheeks and smeared the ink on her hands.

Found prose in the Rahul Bansal quote.
This bit of prose was written in 2016. It's inspired by the quote from Rahul Bansal.
Payton Feb 2021
Loving you is like when the desert reaches up to kiss the crying
sky as it rains.

And my god, have I grown madly in love with the feeling of
water running down my cheeks.
This poem was written in 2016.
Lewis Oct 2020
the finger of winter
leaves fire on my cheeks
soft clouds echo birdsong
ice laced to their beaks
a world drowned in hail
over skyscraping peaks
one day is everyday
as smoke curdles in streaks
Alicia Moore Oct 2020
I wonder how someone
with such warm cheeks
can have such a cold heart.

your face flushed red
as if the blood meant to settle in your chest
has taken a wrong turn on its quest.
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