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Boris Cho Oct 15
It was the seventh grade, and I had begun exchanging notes with a girl I found myself thinking about between every class. There was a certain innocence in those notes, little windows into our youthful curiosity about one another. At a friend’s birthday party, we played a game that felt monumental at the time; Seven Minutes in Heaven. We sat on opposite ends of the couch, the space between us buzzing with nervous anticipation, until our names were called. My heart raced as we stepped into the darkened closet, the world outside falling away.

In the quiet of that small space, I reached for her hands, unsure and trembling. She leaned in gently, and as if drawn by a shared instinct, I followed. Our hands slowly parted, giving way to an embrace. What began as a shy, tentative kiss soon blossomed into something more; seven minutes of exploration, where the unfamiliar became familiar, and a first kiss unfolded into a world entirely new to me.

In that brief span of time, I discovered the sweet weight of connection, as though we’d uncovered some secret, unspoken yet understood. It was a moment both thrilling and terrifying, a tender initiation into the mysteries of affection.

——————

I reached for you with hands
that had never known such trembling,
and you leaned in, soft as breath.
Together we crossed the thin line
between innocence and the edge of knowing.

In that quiet, our lips found each other,
tentative explorers of an undiscovered world.
Seven minutes stretched into forever,
as our hands fell away and we held on tighter;
a first kiss becoming seven minutes
of sweetness, of shared discovery.

— Sincerely, Boris
Boris Cho Oct 14
I have met a woman who captivates my curiosity in ways which are both subtle and sincere. She possesses an enchanting smile, one that invites contemplation, and her intellect is a reservoir of knowledge.

Our time together began in simplicity, which brought with it the slow transition from casual exchanges to more intimate encounters. It was just the two of us, seated beside one another at her wooden dining table; an otherwise unremarkable place transformed into the locus of a quiet, passionate moment. There, amidst the remnants of earlier conversations and the subtle hush of the night, we began to truly reveal ourselves, not merely through the words exchanged but through the silences that punctuated them. Our questions, though innocuous at first, grew longer in their responses, drawing us closer, as though the very chairs we occupied were conspiring to bring our bodies nearer. And in time, they did. The space between us vanished, until we found ourselves no longer seated apart but sharing an almost singular presence.

In that instant, as if time itself paused in reverence, our lips met. The kiss was neither hurried nor fleeting, but rather the kind that stretches across the span of hours. Our hands explored, tracing paths not unlike the threads of our earlier conversations; each touch unveiling a new dimension of understanding, as if we were learning each other in a language foreign yet familiar. It was as if our bodies communicated where words could not, translating the intrigue of thought into something palpable and electric.



As we sit under the autumn sun,
Our knees brush the earth,
Your eyes trace soft paths between us.

Our children play in the distance;
Their laughter singing a song we both know well.

Between bites of a shared sandwich,
We exchange stories,
Untangling the past and present,
Until we begin to speak of dreams
We had both long forgotten.

In the stillness between breaths,
My hand finds your leg,
And before our children return;
You steal a kiss, quick as a secret.
I smile, and steal it back.

When our children return to the picnic,
Their hands full of discoveries,
We sit, caught in the moment’s pause;
No longer stealing kisses,
But sharing them softly,
As if they belong only to us.

— Sincerely, Boris
Dedicated to the woman who possesses an enchanting smile, one that invites contemplation, and with an intellect that is a reservoir of knowledge.
Boris Cho Oct 8
I wake before the sun rises,
tiptoeing past your peaceful dreams.
The coffee’s warmth fills the early light,
toast browning, eggs softly cooking,
and bacon crackling as the day begins.

I lean in to kiss your cheek,
captivated by how morning softens your face.
Another kiss, and you stretch,
holding onto me for more,
drawing me closer into the comfort of the morning.

In these quiet moments, time slows,
our whispers soft, breaths mingling,
as we savor the closeness,
wrapped around each other,
indulging in tender kisses,
lost in each other before the world beckons.

Steam rises from our cups,
filling the room with warmth as light spills in,
each moment deepening with shared laughter
and the simple joy of breakfast together.

We gather as the morning unfolds,
and with one final kiss, I send you into the day,
knowing it begins with the touch of our lips,
the taste of simple joy.


— Sincerely, Boris
The ***** of old cigarettes
-their draft up your nostrils, going to war
with your lungs. Making rivers of red,
wet big eyes: a sore sight to the very mind

And came a sweet bite out of a cutie pie
whose sweet lips offer up such a surprise,
a slice of life; cherry filled with love- with such
a pinching sweetness, with a little hint of that
piercing on the tongue

So, when the two kiss, there’s a cigarette
flavour added into that tasty piece of pie
Rolling with the hunches
Safety in a tiger's eye
Has become a lucid scent, a possible unction
To the staring hour, we remember for denial...?

Saviors to break for it...
Sated pleas of untoward necessity...
Themselves, in the grasp of order and wit...
Speed of patience, to a wealth we knew should, politely...

The thunder we dote, was a marvel...?
Sent to merit for the ultimatum baring
Brief as loves boredom can be, the smile is actual
Where sincerity is from ear to ear, the want of caring

Do you remember me?
Like calling a kiss a sweet lightning
Come from the cloud, we devote to ourselves, see
The question of unity become our only hope, realizing...

A real tooth of repose and hindrance, that knows, you
Ready to chew nothing but the thought, of callous interim
Where we are, the tone of a silent voice to see the rue
Of compliment, are we that we are, a solution to anarchy's whim?

Sweet deliverance
Set to wishes only a courage's mind could blow
Forces and prowess to assure an imagination with seemly chance
Timid as we are, is a truth the only, when in the house to know?
Wasn't that a good piece of gum, or what, indiscretion?
coqueta Nov 2022
You are velvet under my fingertips, honey on my tongue.
So, love me.
Everything about you is lovable. Everything about you draws me in. Love me. Love me. Pour your love out onto me, kiss me with the kisses of your mouth, lavishing them from my neck to my thighs, ******* roughly on my soft, supple skin. Love me. Let me take you in. Let me kiss the breadth of your chest, let me caress your sweet, endearing face, love me, love me, let me pour my love out over you, onto you, into you. I want to hear how much you love how I love you.

I don't.

I want to press kisses against all your bruises. You soften my sodden heart. You're so pitiful it's endearing. My poor boy. My poor poor boy. Please don't cry, or I'll want to comfort you. Please don't look so sad. Don't look like you love me, or it might make me love you.
Instead of writing my essay I’m writing poetry :,)
newborn Mar 2022
they locked lips as the evening sank further
and further
and further
the sun took one last peek
i stood in shock
and heard the band slow their music
slicing open my heart
pulling its strings
and i am still here
half dead
but wishing someone would also do that to me
or that the moonlight could help me breathe
choose the tongue over comfortability
I wanted to cry
But my throat was dry
I just don’t think I’ll ever be loved
It costs too much

Sorry for sad boy hour lol
3/30/22
CIN Mar 2022
Remember that night?
The soft glow of the tv reflecting blue on the walls
Our tongues dancing to the music
That played in the background
I had you pinned the wrong way round on the bed
Your head between my arms
Every part of us touching
I could feel the heat on your skin
The melody of your heartbeat
You tasted like the cherry sucker I gave you
An hour before
Oh, how I used to drown in your melancholy

Yet now all I feel is water
Little drops from the shower
While I stare at what never was
The music of your breathing still plays in my ears
When the night is quiet enough
Sometimes I swear I still feel your skin
But the moment passes and I’m left with this cold sort of feeling
An empty swell in my chest
A tingle behind my eyes
You are nothing but dull memories now
Nothing but a thought of remembrance
the events are fiction but the emotions are real
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