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Although ugly,
Something beautiful happens.
The air suddenly gets thick.
Your hand ***** up and flies
up to your mouth.
Lungs ache, just as we do.
They cling to breath as if
It's the last thing they have.
I cough, and my whole body heaves.
Just like you when I am behind you
My eyes tighten, and after a moment,
It's over.

A wet kiss turned inside out,
Bottled up and forced out.
An act of surrender,
Forced out in urgency.
A noise that signals sickness,
But at the same time
Searches for a fresh breath.
At times, a cough can be sickening,
Sometimes nasty.
But when everything rattles loose,
And that ache is gone.
Sometimes,
That's the best kind of love
Zywa 5d
Being intimate

with people means having to --


share in their secrets.
Novel "Verborgen gebreken" ("Crying shame", 1996, Renate Dorrestein), part 4, chapter 1

Collection "Old sore"
I watch,
And I pull different pieces
Of her out the bowl.
Somewhat tangled and a bit messy.
I twist her all up even more,
And put her in my mouth.
The steam rising fresh from her.
My mouth catches her,
All of her.
Hot, slightly salty.
I love the way she makes me feel.
Eventually, her ways will become mine.
She isn't just some mess in a bowl.
And although I am hungry,
The pieces of her that I drag to my mouth. Are moderate.
I've never tasted anything like this
Before.
She isn't just a quick bite
Of temporary need.
My tongue, my gut,
My soul loves this tangled goodness.
She is my safe space
I don't want to miss
How good your skin feels
In the dark,
When no one else is around
Except our breath.
And we can breathe.

Opinions are just that.
But at the same time, I know,
I don't want to miss out.

I know how bad it feels to show up
Late, and "goodbye" is the last thing
You want to hear.
I don't want to miss out on the
Dark parts of you,
The parts of you that fit
Between the empty space of my
Fingers.
No matter how dark,
There's always a place for you.
It doesn't replace how soft you
Actually are.
It's not for the world to see
They can see whatever they want to.
When it comes to you,
I am not the world.
And I don't want to miss out
Down the stairs, to the left. Creeeak... Step... Step...
His door closed, I creep up... Click!... Creeak... Unlocked;

Closed door, lights dim, dark red with lust;
Hours late, he plays me such as he does his violin.
Bodies tight, musk, and my perfume.
Start off slow, savor the taste, his mouth on mine, non to waste.

Sweat and kisses, bites my neck; Slides in, and plays his deck.
Creation Date: 11/13/24 | 6:30 pm CDT
https://allpoetry.com/poem/18105699--Intimacy--by-The-Poets-Tea-adult
Boris Cho Nov 10
In my journey through the depths of human emotion, I have come to understand the necessity of embracing the full spectrum of feelings. I have learned that to truly live, I must allow myself to feel every emotion, without judgment or resistance. There is no hierarchy of feelings; joy, sadness, fear, and pleasure are all woven into the fabric of my being. To reject any part of this tapestry is to reject a part of myself.

Through this reflection, I see that emotional wholeness is not the absence of pain but the willingness to meet it with compassion. When I honor the discomforts that arise, I am granted deeper access to the richness of life, and it is here that I find meaning. Avoiding pain may offer temporary relief, but it denies me the opportunity to grow and evolve.

This path requires vulnerability; an openness not only with others but with myself. I must release the need for control and certainty, accepting that uncertainty and imperfection are intrinsic to human existence. By surrendering to this truth, I find the freedom to be authentic, present, and fully engaged with the world.

In relationships, I realize that emotional intimacy flourishes when both individuals can sit with their own feelings and, by extension, hold space for the feelings of others. The bonds I seek are forged not through avoiding discomfort but through the courage to be seen as I am, in both light and darkness within me.

I have come to understand that emotions are guides, not enemies. They are here to teach me, to lead me toward deeper understanding, connection, and transformation. It is through feeling it all; without numbing, without denial; that I find true liberation.



Each emotion has its space,
each one part of what makes us human.
I carry them all,
not as weight,
but as the colors of life.

In feeling them, I find peace;
not by pushing them away,
but by living through each one.

—Sincerely, Boris
Boris Cho Nov 10
There was a time when I believed that intimacy was something instinctual, a force that either existed between two people or didn’t. But over time, I came to understand that intimacy is not simply a given; it is something that must be nurtured through honest and vulnerable conversations, each revealing the heart of what we need, fear, and desire.

I learned that the foundation of connection lies in acknowledging my deepest longings; those desires that go beyond physicality. It required me to unravel the layers of what I want, to express the complexities of attraction, and to embrace the discomfort of speaking my truth. Only by facing these unspoken needs could I truly invite another into the depth of my intimacy.

I also had to confront the tension between pleasure and discomfort. There’s an art in balancing these two forces, in recognizing that not every touch, every moment, will be perfect. It became clear to me that boundaries are essential, that knowing when to say ‘yes’ and when to say ‘no’ is as much a part of intimacy as the act of coming together. The body speaks in these moments, revealing both joy and hesitation, and I had to learn to listen.

Trust, I realized, is the heartbeat of connection. It is not enough to want intimacy; it must be built on a foundation where vulnerability can flourish. This is a trust that goes beyond words; it requires action, consistency, and the courage to be fully seen. In moments of doubt, I had to open myself further, revealing my flaws and insecurities, knowing that trust isn’t something to be passively given, but actively cultivated.

And then there’s the rhythm of how we communicate; the delicate balance of speaking and listening. I found that the most profound conversations are often those that leave space for silence, for reflection. Patience became my ally, as I learned that empathy in communication creates a shared experience, one that allows both of us to feel understood without the need for constant resolution.

But perhaps the most transformative realization was understanding that intimacy is not static. It evolves, just as we do. My body, my desires, and the way I seek connection have changed over time, and I’ve come to accept this as part of the journey. Rather than clinging to past versions of ourselves, I found a certain grace in adapting, in continually exploring new ways to nurture both trust and pleasure.

In the end, these realizations became more than lessons. They became a practice; an ongoing commitment to creating space for intimacy that is as rich emotionally as it is physically. It’s a space where love deepens, where empathy and passion intertwine, and where both partners are given the freedom to grow alongside each other.



It’s in the breath between words,
A place where we meet,
Beyond the edge of touch,
Where skin is not a barrier, but a bridge.

It’s in the slow unraveling of the heart,
Our truest selves,
Waiting to be seen,
waiting to be held.

Intimacy is the courage to stay,
Where bodies bend,
Not just for the warmth of another,
But for the release of what we carry alone.

The eyes that undress what words cannot,
The trust that grows
Not from promises spoken,
But from the weight of presence of being whole.

Where love is not just felt,
But understood
In the way we share our breath,
Our silence,
Our fears,
And our fire.

— Sincerely, Boris
Zywa Nov 8
In the evening we

rest and cautiously express --


our sincere feelings.
Composition "Les voix humaines" ("The human voices", 1701, Marin Marais), for viola da gamba, performed by Thomas Dunford (lute) and Jonathan Cohen (harpsichord) in the Music Hall on the IJ on November 3rd, 2024

Collection "Untwisted"
We're but two drunks laughing in the rain. Memphis is a city like any other.
The rain falls and slinks into the potholes. Whatever secrets that are hidden surface and shine with every drop that falls.

What's the fun of staying dry? The rain mixed with the sweat of our skin.
When you kiss me, I feel the beads of rain fall harder, my heart a puddle that catches every drop, caught in wet embrace. We may be drunk, me more so than you. Even if lightning slices through the clouds, and the rain begins to come down even harder.

What's the fun of staying dry? Every street leads somewhere, even if the sky tears itself open and the world becomes a blur. I am a drunk fool, laughing outside in the rain with you
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