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******* me
******* me
Why can’t I ever see
What I should probably be
I may never know
Any better than this
Because God ****** me
Oh yes he did

******* me
******* me
******* my hands
******* my feet
******* my thoughts
******* my breath
******* my life
******* me to death
Unknown date and time.
Rouge lips begging for yours
Bare skin wanting to be explored
Hazel eyes pleading to be blessed
Bejeweled hands yearning to rest
On your face, you broad shoulders
But you, so selfish and stubborn,
Will never offer your heart
To a woman falling apart
Just to be loved.
Were the pancakes,
       and corona

is the syrup

lets spread it like
we eating out..

And were lungs are burnt...

I'll never eat out...

But ill wash my hands
           every time your
  cough pops up...
Path Humble May 2018
put all the words in the world in my two hands,
each a microscopic dot of near invisible, teeming, heaping,
ricochet intersecting colliding, cell splendid splitting,  
until forming a sign inquiring:

“ What did I demand of them?”

“New combinations,” I replied

how we laughed they procreated
frosty crystals clung to
light shows on windowsills
they ran faster than their hands
could touch
on the run from racing time
streams of comfort left
rainy roads bare
to them,
nothing on earth compared
carefully reaching for your hand
it's the first day I've seen you in person.

I've known you for long enough
that I'm surprised when you grab my hand back.

when I look into your eyes, I see fear, and trepidation, and sadness, but also hope and happiness and love.

I will do everything I can
to keep holding your hand.

you hold mine so gently
so carefully. so kindly.
Sneha Thakur May 19
I think there is a special beauty in being able to romanticize love.
Its all up in here, in my mind.
There is a spectrum of thoughts in my imagination.
Sometimes my love can be one sided and it's safe to say that i like that more.
The part where you get to wonder and the excitement that follows.
I wonder a lot of things about you.
About how do you look like when you laugh.
Do you have an ugly laugh or are you a shy laugher.
Sometimes i make up moments in my mind,
More than often in those moments, time freezes and we make our own little infinity.
Sometimes i want to say things to you, and i wonder what you will say back.
I wonder if you will say what i wanna hear.
I like the wondering part.
I like to think.
I wonder how it would feel to hold your hands.
roumen May 17
I want to paint ..
I want to paint you every day..
your lips ..
your face..
your curves...
I want to paint...

I want to kiss ..
I want to kiss you every minute..
your eyes..
your hands..
your soul..
I want to kiss..

i want to love..
I want to love you every second ..
your life..
your dreams..
your spirit ..
l want to love..

I want to stop.
I want to stop the time..
I want to stop and paint you..
I want to paint ..
the girl I know ...
the kiss I feel..
the love i live ..
i want to paint...
one day...
i will...
onlylovepoetry Oct 2017
3 hands

kidding hands,
an autocorrection title,
was supposed to be
kissing hands but either works

man overcome with an elixir of Sunday bed warming/charming/chilling, lukewarm "hot" coffee,
melodious love songs inducing
languorously hand-to-mouth,
five finger fore play love making

a potpourri of knuckle gnawing and gentling kisses
upon a hand borrowed from the a tablet holder,
while she reads the paper bemoaning the sorry state
of the world, the government permissions bad guys...
and weeps for the world we are leaving behind

a mood changer with 100% effectiveness

newspapers- a safe *** condiment

think I'll reheat my coffee


my hand

she cant sleep knows that I'm up at 2:08am composing.  
and showed her earlier today
the kidding hands poem
just as the lights were going down, downtown on
William's Measure For Measure

so at 2:09am her hand snakes over and wrap itself
around my thumb as if she was weaning an infant from
what infants like doing, or weaning grownup old men like me from doing at 2:09am, what they should be best leaving alone,
like writing poetry or it could just be the woman
pseudo-******* a poets thumb as a way of saying
can't sleep head buzzing and in between I love the
livening lying of living with your hands thumb in me

the facement of your hands*

dr. mandy is handy with a needling drink of boo boo bo-toxin
that auto corrects the face's reflecting times drawing upon it,
our bodies facement; an effacement I suppose, or maybe a

very little to be done to keep the *hands
couture covering
from revealing what devolutionary year it is for you: why I write of the facement of your hands and why I kiss them, your hands,
lovingly, hoping the natural  toxins on my lips can ****** their aging,
and if they can't, then it is a great way of saying
I love you

Ayesha Khan May 14
I pray to be preyed upon, you say your thanks, the silence hangs, heavy with the promise of your hands, their slow advance, the teasing dance, of your fingers on my arm injects me into forbidden lands.
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