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Grey Oct 7
I'm nothing without
soft kisses in the moonlight,
bodies entangled
as lips trace constellations
made with freckles on your skin.
Without you, the world may not stop spinning but my heart would cease to beat.
Let me lick your cinnamon freckles
and map them with my tongue.
If I could strip you of your body
I'd leave this feature, just this one.

Perhaps that might sound creepy,
I fetishize your spots.
But dear oh dear forgive me
I could gobble them right up.

If poetry must be pretty
I will take this moment to compare
them to stars, grains of sand- whatever
sends the shover back up your spine.

But these thoughts are not pretty
they are hungry
and your skin makes my mind
S A L I V A T E.
romy Jul 29
The hair on my pillow isn't mine
I still think of how fast time went by
Your side of the bed remains intertwined
with hopeful tears and tainted smiles

Sleepless nights, unsung lullabies
faint memories kept in photographs
with the sun in my eyes
and freckled-cheeks wrinkled by endless laughs

My candy-coated nightmares of you
dancing with monsters and angels
singing with the devil
interrupted by your hair on my pillow
lua May 11
i can see the night on her skin
each freckle clustered
like constellations
scattered throughout her body
on the very dips of her hips
to the dimples on her back
a starry
starry night.
Lily Audra Apr 26
The leaves on the tree outside my window get bigger by millimeters,
And the umami delight of marmite on crumpets is comforting and luscious,
One eye shut because the sun if filling it with heat and light,
This way I can still read my book in the sun,
These joys,
These small joys,
Which you have to take note of, you must,
Are endless;
Cold beer zapping my tongue like electricity, zing zing,
Dippy eggs with toast crunchy and eggs runny , salt flecked across the top,
Coconut hand-cream rubbed between each finger and thumb meticulously,
Music pouring through rooms into the flat and lilting in and out of earshot from outside, inside, next door and my radio,
Sparrows with their endless cheep cheeping,
Steam from strong black tea, gilded with rose, warming my hands nose and stomach,
The tiny hairs on raspberries, so soft and the juice so ****,
Plans to go no where, somewhere, the pub! A river! A farm! On a train! On a boat! On a bus!
Freckles springing up like stars on my girls nose,
Candles which pack the room full of floral, honeyed scents,
Crunchy apples,
Flaky pastry,
Warm bread,
The tsssssssttt when you open a can of Coke,
Lemons, just lemons,
The bbzzzz bbzzzz of my phone carrying I love yous, and for ***** sakes,
You have to take note of these joys, you must,
Because when I think about 16 women dead by lovers hands,
I feel I've hollow bones,
I need the beer, eggs, hand-cream, music, sparrows, lemons and bbzzzz, tea, bread, pastry and plans to keep me upright,
And I send thoughts of dippy eggs and lemons to those without.
Marco Feb 27
Pointy nose, freckled bridge
Fair creme skin, speckled lips
Dark green eyes under dotted lids
Flaming hair weaves around your neck
and polka shoulders

Warm emotion sits in your cheeks
Stubborn chaos to your teeth
Roaring throat behind bowed lips
Willpower in raw fingertips
palms so rough from housework

Sturdy arms and steady legs
Robust frame to birthing hips
Heart of fire in its thick-walled cage
beats for me so strong and brave.
Mick Feb 12
That little boy we both know, his nose dabbed
with whipped cream, smiling ice cream lips,
chin speckled with sprinkles like his freckles.
everything that feeling is, is you.
When we took the kids out for ice cream <3
More on my Instagram @MickRWrites
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