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FrannyFoo May 2020
Let's die slowly
In each other's company
In each other's arms
In the space between each glance
Carlo C Gomez May 2020
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 2020
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 2020
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 2020
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
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. ****!
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"
Olivia Daniels May 2019
Call me naive.
Blinded by a honeymoon phase
and sickly sweet jest

Because I want to keep
this blindfold
pulled down over my eyes.

I don't want to know
what time it isโ€”
day or night, stars and light โ€”
but this comfort
wraps my body and glues me to my bed.

He likes me
He likes me, not
the me I always try and hide behind
but the me that's real.

And he's honey sweet
and golden feat,
how I managed to find him
I'll never know.

He tells me once
twice and again, actually,
that they couldn't have made
a better half for him in a lab
if they had tried.

I'd lift my blindfold to see
you and your gorgeous honey blue eyes
shining through the dark like a moon,
and what we bake together
might just be the most delicious cake maybe ever.

If my words were sugar
I could have told him then
and there, his lips on mine
tasted sweet.
Like everything he says to me.

But I'm bad at baking cakes with no sugar
and all the store had was keyboards and pens
so I wrote him this instead;

To my perfect other half,
Each joke you make resounds
laugh for laugh, I sculpt you a present
epitaph commemorating you... for you
with words, to say

I think...
I might love you?
I have a really good feeling about this one, he's amazing
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