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AMcQ Nov 2014
I hold on still
to the breath I drew
when I knew I loved you.

I will exhale only when
your mouth meets mine.
allen currant Nov 2014
mouth of proof power
present taped over
stitched together with
words promises
processes good faith
the scream locked below
our feet deeper than
sadness or frustration
pulsing as we step the
primal mouth of existence
an all powerful maw
muzzled by complexity
trampled by progress
our inner core
impossibly dense iron
and nickel holding the
entirety of history
compressed by layer
upon layer the scream
we fear the scream of
truth laying the horrors
before us stripping us
naked and feeding us
through the teething
razor wired intestines
of humanity's
digestive tract
Ali Cronin Nov 2014
Falling asleep to the sound of my brain,
it's been sounding a lot recently like the curves of your name.
I hold you in my mouth,
and you taste so sweet.
Much like the thump
of my racing heartbeat.
My pillow still smells like your freckled skin,
my blankets still rustled from you touch.
My body aching for a squeeze
or such.
Such a night as the day we wasted away
when you still liked to look at me that way.
Sierra Nov 2014
I don't smoke he says
As the lit cigarette dangles from between his lips

I'll never lie to you he promises
With finger crossed behind his back

I love you drifts from his mouth
Before he goes home to his girlfriend

A walking contradictory
A breathing heartbreaker

The only one
Who truly understand who I am

And he is a walking contradictory

s.j.d
elissa Nov 2014
We sat at the edge of your bed listening to vinyl records of the rolling stones; I thought for a moment we were stuck in the 80’s and were teenagers pretending to fall in love with the last trace of bubblegum flavor on the corner of our mouths and cheap ***** stains on our t-shirts which was a whole mixtape of our reckless youth and belief of love we could only know from books. It was my favourite mixtape anyway.
Poetic T Oct 2014
I pondered the world around me
Looking
Staring
Around to what was seen,
Then I happened upon a bird
"Just sitting watching me"
I waved once,
I waved twice,
It just put it head to the side
Maybe to get a better angle on me,
It tweeted
And left, the last I thought to see,
But where one once was, now I count
Two
Three
Four  
Five now perched upon the fence
On the tree, I was getting a
"Alfred Hitchcock"
Vibe, with all little eyes looking at me,
I smiled an awkward grin, teeth did show
Scattered to the wind,
I closed my eyes, noises
Singing awoke a slumbering me,
Six,
Seven,
Eight,
More birds, sitting on the fence,
But also congregating on the branches of the tree,
I waved once more,
Eyes watching upon me,
This is getting creepy
So I stood on all fours licking my teeth
And purred a
"QUESTION"
"Why do you congregate"
"And watch from a far upon me"
Tweeted words sung out to me,
"It just catches our attention that you being a cat"
Not once,
Not twice,
But three
"Times you have waved at us sitting"
Upon a fence,
Upon a tree,
"Childish games of youth"
I purred back,
I have a good life, I am not as wild
as you think, I wave to say hello
To listen to you sing,
"I walk up to the fence"
Pat once then two on the head you see,
"But there is a moral to this tale"
"What is that the birds sing"
As with reflects to fast to see
Not one
Not two
But three
Birds in mouth, they fly, flutter away
And with a mouth full I say
"Don't believe in what you hear or see"
"Were just more sneaky now"
Now shoo be gone, unless you wish
To all so ******* teeth upon your bodies.. and they flee.
Supine Plath Oct 2014
I can never say what I feel inside,
and it kills me tonight
'Cause I'm watching you with all of these words
but nothing comes to surface,
I kiss you off once again with words bursting from my eyes
with a mouth gone dry, and all I say is "goodbye".
elouazzani kenza Oct 2014
I wish your mouth was stuck at mine
All the time.

I wish i could make you breath
I could make your heart beat
Make your blood freeze.

I wish i could hug you
And make you disappear
In the deepest of the deepest
Of my heart.
Anastasia Webb Sep 2014
I have opened up my mouth
and taken out a spare pair
of butterfly wings
(pinched between thumb
and forefinger),
used-to-be-dusty but now
slightly damp from their
place of residence.
I dried them myself,
striking match after match
and holding each underneath,
close,
but not too close.

Instead of drying they
shrivelled up like petals
after leaving the flower.
As if to preserve warmth,
curling inwards,
they shivered, animated
by the heat of the glowing stick.

The flame got too close
to my fingers. I dropped it,
swearing. Pinched the wings too
hard (reflexes), the membrane
broke between my fingers
and the remnants
of freedom fluttered softly
to the ground.
A mouth
opens and closes
eating food
talking to you.

Unkind eyes
that perceive
scrutinise
and deceive you.
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