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Feels like the days are flowing by,
While I lay here, restless
Unaware of my becoming
Like an unusual goodbye.
StormriderIX Apr 2020
An artist in quarantine.
Let us set the scene.

Teeny tiny
living space.

Move around
the mess
with grace,
no stress!

What to do,
what to do...

For a start,
I'll make some art.

I'll write
some poetry,
some fiction.

I am nocturnal,
and suddenly
the daystar's light,

Days get hazy;
I go crazy.

This is fine.
This is fine.
My time in social distancing.
Stay safe.
ms musings Apr 2020
once you get a grasp of
how drowning and
peaceful the dawn is,  
it's hard to let go.

you'll anticipate every waking hour
trying to catch a glimpse of sunlight
to tell you it's bed time.

once you've tasted the silence,
you'll crave for it everyday
and realize how it tells much more.
we have turned into owls lol #quaranthings
ms reluctance Apr 2020
4 a.m. —
and I am the king of the world,
queen of all things feral.
I burn brighter than the stars,
a galaxy full of possibilities.
My reign eternal;
I am the only one alive
and I want to live dangerously.

Want —
with one word the light goes out,
the stars dip beyond the sea,
my crown tumbles to the ground,
I am pulled back to reality.

Back —
here and now
I rub my eyes;
feel my lambent desires die
as morning resurrects
all of my insecurities.
NaPoWriMo Day 4
Poetry form: Free Verse
Sean Achilleos Mar 2020
We met in our minds
One enchanted evening
Blue black hair
Dark eyes that pierce the soul ... MY soul
We embraced for a fleeting moment
Glassy eyed ... dream believers
Fools like us keep the world entertained
Like human dartboards
We dodge poisonous arrows
We play the games that others don't dare to play
From the pages of a book
The story comes alive
We are able to make believe
Then like a bat in the night
You mysteriously disappeared out of sight
At the first glimpse of the morning sun
Headache ... empty glass
The stench of wine combined with silence
Tangible silence ...
Suddenly it doesn't matter where we are
We're somewhere on the planet ... You and I
The face of the earth they call it
Under the same blanket of stars
And I think I have learned to love you from afar
A necessary evil to survive
S. Achilleos
March 29, 2020
Brianna Dec 2019
There’s something nocturnal about our love.

The way I sit awake at 2 am dreaming of the perfect sunrise to paint you.
Or the way your lips always taste a little sweeter after 3 am.
It could be the way your mouth moves a little lower when we get closer to 4 am.
But maybes it’s the way you look when you fall asleep around 5 am.

I guess the simplicity of our relationship is what kept me around for so long.
But now I see the flaws and the possibilities of us never growing and it’s making me want to run.

Find someone who wants me at 7am when they just finish breakfast and are headed to work.
And they text me to check in by 8 am just to see how my day is going.
Or they sneak home on their break to kiss me at 9 am and whisper sweet nothings before leaving again.
It could be the way they text me again by 10am and tell me they love me when I head to work.

Maybe I just need a love that’s a bit brighter.
Kim Dec 2019
And when everything quiets down,
when the dirt settled at the bottom of the jar,
you start to crawl your way inside my mind.
the familiar temperature.
the warm feeling of yellow.

And the pain continues.
Through limerence a longing lust lingers,
Beginning by stroking your face with my fingers,
A sensation wells from my ocean as my body swells with more than emotion,
Helpless to my impulse to begin slow smoothing motions,
Across your soft skinned irresistibly gorgeous pert body,
None of you remains untouched apart from the parts the animal in me wants so much,
As smoothing turns to grasping heavy breathing turns to gasping,
Breathing and heaving in unison as I hold you tightly within my clutch.

You whisper softly, longingly your desires of the night,
As our breath becomes heavier we can't control ourselves try as we might,
The rustling of clothes as they become dispensable items,
Only serving to ready us for the sound of skin on skin as the intensity heightens,
Light thuds as clothes fall to the floor,
You moan in a way that lets me know you want more,
In our underwear we hold one another our lips smacking,
Our movements make the bed make sounds of creaking and cracking,
You gasp for air and sigh loudly with delight,
Your body underneath me is the most glorious sight.

My hands can't help move down your sides to that thong you have on,
While they stay on your hips a while as I kiss your stomach I know it won't be on for long,
I slowly slide it down past your thighs,
As I kiss the inside of them we are both on a high,
I move my lips to your lips below your hips,
Taking care to do here what I do there as you begin to flip.

I move my head up slowly to yours as I kiss along the way,
I'm rock hard when I reach you but I stay outside to play,
I slowly move inside you as you feel me throbbing strongly,
As I move in and out my hands don't stop as you start moaning loudly,
The bed it rocks from side to side as if on choppy waves,
The sound of you in ecstasy is what my body craves,
As we reach the top of what we got I leave some of mine in thine,
The afterglow is so bright it's like nocturnal sunshine.
J J Aug 2019
Gallantry badge stitched to rotting cloth
as the skin sinks and the bones fade
and the love made is left to reek the bed
where sexless wife and lonely daughter
   Lay their head's arrest.

In due time they both tan, sag and crackle
Under weight of the sun.

That dizzy cyclops that roped forth
homecoming boats and ships stands
five years from being defunct; rusted
to the hue of a coppice
and hardly the attraction it once was

But oh well— sighs the sailor, too old and bankrupt to care
for approaching poverty— the money has been made and my life spent

For others (his Sister, his Niece, his Brother)
They lack the ability to sigh;
the closest they get is the occasional stormy wind
that cracks the surface, blows through their teeth
resembling a crooked lullaby,
Revolves the bullet lodged in their skull;
O occasional stormy rain that beshrews the water
clogging their lungs and, in due time, The leaking muck
that’ll pluck and sharply snap inward the casketwood--
directly against the bullet gathhering mold in their heart--

Their souls have been spent.
One less soldier wouldn't have changed a thing
(The result was a certainty propagated
   as a contingency)
And if G-d bare'd witness his eyes no longer sting,
  His grievances had and his puppets dead
Following a suffering in his name.

If Thy Kingdom holds true
They bare witness now to the lighthouse
In it's chipping hue, it's trivial dock and visitor

All held in place and burning; They disfigure
Under weight of the sun.
Set in the aftermath of a death in the family duting war
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