Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mrs Timetable Jan 2020
I propose we call Tuesday
What it really is
Being only two days in
It only exists for tacos
Very little humor
I now pronounce you
Monday Jr.
Cheesy Lunch thoughts.
Iman Jan 2020
The feel of your body on mine,
Your body pressed up against me,
Those lips teasing and torturing me,
Hands pleasuring, clouded mind.

He knows the right words,
His hands the right places,
The book of strong desires,
We believed in lust, lust in all pages.

It wasn't you I loved, admired or adored,
But your hands, lips, body and more,
You pleased my body, you made it yours,
When I screamed his name, you wished it was yours.

Thinking the way to this heart was through my sacred core,
Knowing what you wanted I gave you less, you wanted more,
Pushing me to my ******, till the state of pure Bliss,
Now and again, in the act of raw ***.

I don't love you, I won't die in your name,
I don't have sleepless nights where you're all I think about,
I never felt consumed by you not will I ever,
All you meant to me, was a means to quench my desire.

How you bruised my lips,
Pulling them between your teeth,
How yours lips captured every breathe that escape mine,
As I moan and whine for release.

Will forever be imprinted in my mind,
As a reminder to stay away,
From creatures like yourself,
That need me, but won't stay.
Derrick Jones Jul 2019
Contorted and turned
My mind is a soft pretzel
Seeking inertia
For more poetry and essays, follow my blog on Medium at
Thanks for reading!
Jaluna Rolik Feb 2019
Maybe not
Our favorite, but
Nonetheless a
Day to remember
And a day for
You to shine.
Alicia Dec 2018
the sunsets and the sun rises
creating each day and each night
and not once does it ask permission
the night will still be pink with light pollution
because of the single office illuminators,
found in every breathing building
the night shift family I never met,
will still glow behind little screens
or candle light thought bubbles and ink
the morning will still spill coffee all over him
but only on mondays, when he’s running late
mondays will always come
sunday mornings will still petition against alarm clocks
and sunday, hereself, will always win
it will rain and it won’t
either way, without me
temporary title
She’s so real it doesn’t matter.
So real I can imagine her.
When my heart fails and eyes are weak,
She’s Monday morning to my week.

Her beauty is springtime’s envy.
Her beauty is my energy.
Awake or in my dreams I seek,
I need her smile to start my week.

I close my eyes to watch it grow,
Her beauty’s everywhere I go.
Like sunlight o’er horizon’s peak,
She is the sunshine of my week.

I see her now and evermore,
On Mondays though I need her more.
When missing her makes things look bleak,
I think of her to start my week.
Blogging at
Buy “Insights Hurt: Bringing Healing Thoughts To Life” at
My pillow warm with light dampness
Rejects my head with suddenness,
Last night welcoming in comfort,
At dawn sends me away in hurt.

How shall I start this weary day?
What do faint flickers of dreams say?
Last night I slunk into blackness,
The dawn hurls me into madness.

The frightened embrace of a ghost,
All I have of my lonely host.
Last night I put the light to sleep,
At dawn held by darkness I keep.

Woke to disjointed consciousness,
And left behind my peacefulness,
Last night I plotted my escape.
The dawn of life has taken shape.
Instagram @insightshurt
Blogging at
Buy “Insights Hurt: Bringing Healing Thoughts To Life” at
Next page