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FrannyFoo May 21
Let's die slowly
In each other's company
In each other's arms
In the space between each glance
Carlo C Gomez May 22
I remember when I first saw you
in such a state,
shifting with the direction of light,
viola shaped,
the boudoir door slightly ajar.

Rings exchanged,
veil removed,
the bells had chimed for us,
and then for
ships in safe harbor.

The pitter patter of
surf cascading in
from an open window,
otherwise hushed,
turnt and *****,
dimples showing
whether you smiled or not.

Turnabout was fair play
--azure hues in moonlit pastel
caressing the folds and ties
around midnightโ€™s chemise
--the lure of velveteen
and vast soft canvas of pearl
--areolae circles and quaint triangles
in the thick of things,
gift-wrapped in elegant fur.

Belle-chose, under
the waxing, waning crescent
of dainty omphalos, yawning in chiaroscuro,
red-faced and piqued,
quite shy coming out of the shadows.

The batting of lashes,
the lingering scent of bouquet
--like the seduction of flute song,
I followed and followed
until thoroughly lost within you.
Tangerine May 4
๐’น๐“‡๐‘’๐’ถ๐“‚๐’พ๐“ƒ๐‘” ๐‘œ๐’ป ๐’น๐“‡๐’ถ๐‘”๐‘œ๐“ƒ๐“ˆ
๐’ท๐“‡๐’ถ๐“‹๐‘’ ๐’ถ๐“ƒ๐’น ๐“…๐‘œ๐“Œ๐‘’๐“‡๐’ป๐“Š๐“ ๐“€๐“ƒ๐’พ๐‘”๐’ฝ๐“‰
๐’ป๐’พ๐‘’๐“‡๐“Ž ๐“…๐’ถ๐“ˆ๐“ˆ๐’พ๐‘œ๐“ƒ ๐’ถ๐“ƒ๐’น ๐’ธ๐’ถ๐“‡๐“ƒ๐’ถ๐“ ๐’น๐‘’๐“๐’พ๐‘”๐’ฝ๐“‰๐“ˆ
๐’ถ ๐’ฝ๐‘’๐’ถ๐“‰๐‘’๐’น ๐“€๐’พ๐“ˆ๐“ˆ ๐’ถ๐“Œ๐’ถ๐’พ๐“‰๐“ˆ ๐“Ž๐‘œ๐“Š
๐‘œ๐“ƒ ๐“Ž๐‘œ๐“Š๐“‡ ๐“Œ๐‘’๐’น๐’น๐’พ๐“ƒ๐‘” ๐“ƒ๐’พ๐‘”๐’ฝ๐“‰
solfang Mar 26
they call it the honeymoon stage
as it's supposed to taste sweet
but why does mine taste like
a different kind of bitter?
choices were made, but were those the right kind?
Carlo C Gomez Jan 28
Your core,
this folding door,
guarded by the sentry
of your knees,
the iron vice
of your thighs,
allow me, please,
this much:
one kiss,
one stroke,
one persuasion,
that you might
this night, my darling,
find it in your heart to
open to me.
Beyond the realm of sight,
Awaits us a honeymoon night.
Its real treasure will be our love,
This true beauty will be our trove.
A treasure of both our expressions,
Tone down we shall our expectations.
For novice luck doesn't always work!
My HP Poem #1793
ยฉAtul Kaushal
clem turner Jul 2019
i see you
and i wonder when this will end -
when the honeymoon phase will end
[because it always does]
and we'll have to pack our bags
and ride back to our home
after a few weeks in paradise.

how the deciduous trees will transform
into eyesores,
life sour without the view of palm trees
or the smell of sunscreen.
wrote this awhile ago... yikes.
Cezar Ybanez Jr Jul 2019
I'm afraid that if I tell you
"I love you" too much
the word will lose its meaning

after all, it's just a word

so I guess I'll just have to find a way
to express my love to you
in infinite different ways, somehow.
I love this boy so much. ****!
Tommy Randell May 2019
The night had begun in earnest
The promise of victory remote
Any hope like flesh in a furnace
Any outcome way out of control

Hell bent on a win we were gamblers
Forgetting the risks in denial
No chains of fate could handle us
Only we were built for survival

The Rules of the game unwritten
Set out in graffiti and neon
Our strategy a bad work of fiction
No one would choose to rely on

But the game must go on regardless
No matter how hopeless the end
We Gamers we know what the score is
And upon what reputations depend

This morning it all seems a farrago
We were beaten by gin before we began
That we took part at all was bravado
Without a gallon of coffee as a back-up plan

You non-gamers won't have a clue
What on earth all the fuss is about
But I promise for us it was true
It was ****** there in the slaughterhouse

It was War & Peace, it was hell
A bloodbath of politeness and manners
It was farting as loud as a bombshell
It was Valhalla with mirrors and hammers

It was Fire and Ice, it was legendary
It was The Ride of the Valkyrie on soundtrack
It was **** on the iPad, incendiary
We are regrouping for another attack

The first casualty of war is truth
Marriage is a fog of confusion
That the enemy is weak I have no proof
But I will honour the call to arms and duty
SITREP /หˆsษชtrษ›p/  noun INFORMAL
"... a report on the current military situation in a particular area."
We chose Ixtapa for our honeymoon
because it was not yet commercialized,
as so many other places in Mexico
had become. We spent a lot of time
in Zihuatanejo; We burned bay leaves
in static pots of delicacy, ignoring the fruit flies
as we drank mezcal.
You swallowed the maguey worm,
and hallucinated its life as a moth
before it's capture from the agave.
It hit you like the Gulf that
May of 1986; beautifully
and cold.
You looked like a watercolor
entangled in the rope hammock.
Wide-mouthed and muscular,
in the reflection
of my sterling cuff bracelet.
While I examined my jewelry,
our feet were buried in the sand
by the dust we swallowed during our upbringing.
Bred and raised for fighting, we made love
like a bull kissing capote;
Taunting one another in
a masculine ring, performing
in foreign terrain.
You were so delicate
with your hands around my throat.
You helped me forget
by pulling apart the wings of my droning youth
that week.
from "Evenings in Jackson Heights"
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