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A single message flourished away,
a smooth brush across cold paned screen,
for, there we met on the sixth of May.

So many things are ephemeral;
dark chocolate beneath the sun, bubbling into sugary pools;.
Grainy white cubes, dissolving into porcelain cup.
Descending petals from bearded, autumn branch.
Paper in a book, lines on a page;
a melodious song, or grand theatric play.
But this was to last forever
for, there we met on the sixth of May.

Surrounded by domains of mellow duvets,
he’s a crepuscular ray through sombre clouds, and rainbow rains.
Love beats steady, slow and safe;
warming heart and thumping vein.
Benevolent burning, a fervent haze;
pawing at molten hills of silky skin.
Creamy haired head moulds into
grooved shoulder and beating chest;
made whole, a set pair.

Timeless, a tender dimension;
a rose bubble, a hallowed, undying day,
for, there we met on the sixth of May.

x.
Soulmates x.
Wyoming Mae Nov 8
Ringlets spring between my fingers,
I try to smooth them as a sigh slips out,
Sarcasm hangs heavy on my lip, but—
something else drips from yours
I try to meet your gaze but mine often strays
I can’t let my eyes give me away
My body will say what I cannot put into words
A poem can be written under those soft sounds,
Something more tangible and desperate, yet—
It is still more delicate than I could ever consciously pen.
I was dumb!
There' a John locked up in this part of town
from 5 evening until 6 the next day,
Ambulances arrive for those who can't come-down
those slurring or crazy as they mumbling say.

There are still whispers abound of urban legends
like how Jake fought off seven police,
before they tasered & caved his face in,
He was guilty of of all seven deadly sins.

The bar's on fire in this early night,
with young ones on awkward first dates,
The young man's swooned by her bare flesh
so gorgeously tight and smelling so fresh.

And those playing darts are many years apart,
as mutton compared to strawberry ****,
this pub has all so finely unique,
At least it keeps most **** off the streets...
N W Oct 28
A multitude of firsts.
Some he takes,
others I give freely.
Bansi Adroja Oct 19
Is love ping pong text conversations
fizzling out with a ghost

Swiping right on generic holiday photos
of someone who you'll know for a Friday night
forgotten by the long drive home

Waiting on a response
that'll never come lost somewhere in the postal system
and politics of blue tick marks

What happened to wondering what we'd done right to have met on the central line
as if for once the universe had aligned
under stars and city lights

What happened to being so smitten it hurt
on the back streets walking home
when it felt like you'd never let go

Your voice on the other side of the line
at three am because you realised I was the one
and I just had to know
Ethan P Jones Oct 16
Finding love is like Halloween
Roaming the street in your best costume
Knocking on strangers doors
Asking them trick or treat
Until you find the one you feel comfortable
Taking the mask off with
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