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annh Jun 3
π™±πšŽπš—πš, πš’πš—πšπšŽπš—πš
πš†πš’πšπš‘ πš‘πš˜πš˜πšπšŽπš πšœπšπš’πš•πš•πš—πšŽπšœπšœ,
π™·πš’πšœ πšπš’πš—πšπšŽπš›πšπš’πš™πšœ πšœπšπšŠπš’πš—πšŽπš πš‹πš•πšŠπšŒπš” πš‹πš’ πšπš’πšπš›πšŠπšπšŽπš πšπš’πš–πšŽ;

π™»πšŠπš™πšœπšŽπš πš‹πšŽπšπš πšŽπšŽπš— πš™πš•πšŠπšπšŽπšœ 𝚘𝚏 πšπš•πšŠπšœπšœ πšŠπš—πš πšŒπš˜πš™πš™πšŽπš›,
π™Όπš’πšœπšŽπš•πš πš πš’πšπš‘ πšœπš”πš’πš— 𝚘𝚏 πšŠπš•πš‹πšŠπš— πš–πšŠπš›πš‹πš•πšŽ,
π™±πš•πšžπšŽ πš’πš›πš’πšœπšŽπšœ πš‹πšžπš›πš—πš 𝚝𝚘 πšœπš–πš˜πš”πšŽ.

β€œI’m a student of light,” Louis said.
β€œAnd a poet.”
β€œNo, I leave that to Charles Baudelaire. My job is to capture things before they disappear.”
β€œAm I going to disappear, Monsieur Daguerre?”
- Dominic Smith, The Mercury Visions of Louis Daguerre
Payton Feb 24
Imagine, I'm laying in your bed. Beneath your covers.
On your pillow.
In your arms.
Imagine, you press your thumb to
my lower lip, and you can hear my heart
beating like a hammer.
You remake my ribcage with your fingertips, and
you teach me a new language with your mouth.
You touch me with intention.
Imagine, I let you. I uncurl.
Moonlight filters in through the window and pours over us. That silky-white illumination is reflected in your eyes and it touches
you so softly, I could scream.
And the exquisite truth of it all is,
that if you ever did get to touch me,
I think I would die.
This poem was written in 2016.
cici Feb 23
the oppressive sun
bludgeons away weakness
melts off my fingertips

a gleaming android
ruby red and autumn gold -
a human unfolds
edit: no I was not consciously thinking about iron man
Ruheen Jan 10
Disappearing isn't easy.
It takes time and effort
To stay away from everything
That you think helps
Because you're always itching to get back,
And it's always an inch away
From your fingertips
Because all you'd have to do is click a button,
And you're addicted.
Again.
I'm back. Don't know for how long. Don't know if and when I'll disappear again.
But for now; I'm back.
I just couldn't write. Didn't know what to.
bloodKl0tz Sep 2020
I used to conjure flames from my fingertips without a thought
And used them to scorch foreign poetry into your skin
Iggy Chuck Jan 2020
If you ever ask me
how I really feel about you,
I’ll sayΒ thatΒ 

evenΒ though we’re hundreds miles apart
I can still feel your fingertips
wander through the lining of my skin
and the warmth of your lips follow in cadence

I’ll say thatΒ 
I fall asleep thinking about you
and wake with you being my first thought

That’s how I feel,
I feel you all the time,
all over.
Travis Kroeker Dec 2019
I run my fingers slowly
over the lips of another;
just to see.
But those lips
don’t brush as tenderly
against my tips
as yours did,
my original lover.
Poet X Nov 2019
I think I have begun to reach it,
the edge of the world.
whether it is flat or round
everything must come to an end
so I have begun to reach it,
the edge of
the world
of this world
of your world
of my world.
I'm **** near the end
im so close I can caress the stars
with my fingertips.
up here
the oceans have taken the size of a mere moon.
and I think what world
must lie beyond
but I how ready I am to leave his one,
or if there even is a world
regardless
I have reached the edge of my world
and I could not be more ready to
jump.
John Glenn May 2019
It was in the warmth
of her body
where I found ecstasy
my fingertips laced
in the spaces between hers
our thumbs painting
each other's palms in subtlety
her head rests on my arm
my head rests on hers
in the midst of each other's surrender

and yet somehow,
even ecstasies
end in sober
mjad Apr 2019
and just like that
his fingertips know
after two years
they are back home
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