Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jonathan Moya Mar 2019
Passion’s Cursive Highway

P
It starts with the line, an upwards curlicue,
the noose flapping rightwards in the wind,
at the top of the curl, an afterthought,
because every line needs a curve and a loop
to follow the road set to the next ones beginning,
less it turn in on itself, circle about,
or start and end nowhere.
a
The next road is not a road,
but an interchange, connected
curve flowing at the bottom,
arching outward to the top,
to half the height, straining
to touch the loop behind
and just above, falling
in an outward curve
that delivers the scribbled
start that is the highway
of their journey.
ss
Their highway starts in swagger,
they thinking it’s straight
but it really swerves and swerves,
she existing in the sedan
of soul and soothing blissful union,
he riding in the open convertible
the slapping wind of ***, sin
and self his indulgent mantra,
the rolling curves of the highway
unfolding, a striking rattlesnake
pushing them together in
a union of fear and death
stuck half in trust and mistrust.
i
They exit the highway their auto
in the fleeting traffic streaming by
an unnoticed sensible sedan, SUV,
minivan amidst the flashier styles
until a passing train forces a stop
at the gate till the arms clear
and the red lights stop flashing
and they can continue the little ways
to the incline street that halts
period, at the dead end that is their
garage and two story home.
o
Everyday they drive in and out
of the interchange that is
their two kids, two cars,
back and forth from shopping,
home, work, garage to garage,
other stories and two story house,
she practicing, and refining the
upward curve outward *****
that is her harmonious devotion
to perfecting the craft of family life,
he to the obsessive dedication of
work, promotion, goals, achievement.
n
At the up stroke, halfway to the end,
he crashed and she was there
to pick up the pieces and give him
her half of the inward flexing n,
loosening the noose to fly in the wind,
finally uniting their divided passions
into not a marriage but a union
that respected the middle ground
they had created with each other
and the true real love that was there.
chitragupta Mar 2019
Your skin honeydew smooth
I shudder at the touch
From the break of dawn I crave you
With an abnormal lust
I know I shouldn't, yet I must..

I breathe you into me
With every kiss I place
Hoping that it lasts forever
But I know you'll never stay
All I'll be left with is the aftertaste..

You race within my veins
And run across my soul
Enticing me, exciting me
Till the sweat exudes through my pores
I never want to let you go..

-X-

I turn a blind eye to your poison
Although you're killing me
For my heart obsesses like a fanatic
And my mind reasons like a devotee
I always have this sense of achievement
when I create something with multiple interpretations.
Hope you enjoy reading it as much.
Fox Friend Mar 2019
these scenarios are stuck on loop in my head
my palm full of pills,
& The Orange Bottle of Liberation, now empty
as I fall asleep
The squealing of tires on tar as glass shatters
& I become one with the street

so many ways to stop being
what do you mean these thoughts aren't normal?
this is all my brain plays

on loop, on loop, on loop
Clay Face Mar 2019
Jesus Christ.
I blame it on my personality
ENTP
funny, but romantically inept in using it
Smart, but overbearing
Curious, but boundless in exploration
All of these are virtues I have but cannot manipulate.
It haunts me. I hate myself.

Reality
Hurts
Introspection invites pain
Introspection invites healing

I am a gutless fool.
I wallow in excuses.
“I never have the opportunity to talk to her”
Make them.
“I’m not good enough for her”
She stares at you in class.

I love that feeling.
Whenever our eyes meet.
My heart drops. And so does my stomach.
It feels like the floor beneath me.
For that split second. Falls away. It scares me.
Inviting us both into our own world of benevolence.
A flash I wish could be eternity.
Then our gazes dash away just as quickly as they collided.
“Did she notice?”
“Did he notice?”

We “flirted” a lot in 7th grade.
Then we’re separated by schedule.

Didn’t matter.
My pea sized mind...
It couldn’t fathom or even comprehend love.
I didn’t know what I wanted.
I hope you still might want me.

English assignment: write a soliloquy about a personal decision.
I write one about my in complacence and unsureness of sharing my opinion.
You write one about dying your hair blue.
Through your short work you’re funny and shy.

Oh my ******* god. I adore you to death.

At the end you show a stick figure drawing of you next to a college with blue hair.
Labeled: me in college with blue hair.
******* goofy.
I absolutely love it.

If you had blue hair I wouldn’t care.
You’d still be jaw dropping.
Though it would match your eyes.
You have the most gorgeous blue eyes in the entire world.
I literally could get lost in them forever.
They’re so...
Deep.
Deep like I try to make my poems.
cough
cough

Anyway.

Anything I create though could not be as exquisite.
An ecstasy one could die from.

I feel so creepy reflecting on your looks without you knowing. Like I’m stalking you in my mind?

I haven’t flirted since that math class we shared.
I’m afraid I’m rusty. Dilapidated.
I would say something that would push you away.

Or.

I tap your shoulder.
Be hypnotized by your eyes and stand there.
Mute.

Oh...

And the sweat.
My palms would be moister than an oyster.
I’d be beet red.
My voice would quiver.
And boom. It’s awkward for both of us.

Awkward can be nice. Just.
At appropriate times.

I’m so weak.
I have no map to a reservoir of strength.
I have no courage to confront you.
I desperately want it.
I need assistance in acquiring it.

Funny.
I’m a curious guy.
Always looking for adventure in books etc.
But I’m haunted by adventuring toward you.
I see a treacherous path that with one mistake.
I die.

If I make no mistakes.
I win a prize I see myself as undeserving of.

So excuses I make.
And withering inside I drool over you.

We both never talk to the other ***.
I want to talk to you.
And I think you might want to talk to me.
But I block our mingling through fear I cannot control even if it might benefit us both.

I need help.
I’m afraid of getting help.
Then I’d try something and mess up.

Oh my god. Help me.
Thanks if you read it. I’ve never felt this way about someone for so long. I do not know how to approach this. It’s so uncomfortable to me.
annh Mar 2019
Will you let me go? Or have you distilled my essence so completely that, unmarried of your obsession, I must remain empty of myself; stripped of sanity’s constraints?

Am I fated to revisit the conjunction of my undoing, if only to recognise my own signature in your scent, and to taste the smokey flavour of my combustible flesh upon your skin?

Is it I - desirous of an end - who have released my immeasurable craving in order to destroy us both?
‘I desire the things which will destroy me in the end.’
- Sylvia Plath
Maya Jo Mar 2019
I.

Sunning beside a sheer cliffside

Upon monuments of sediment baked in cooling salts

a liquid caress

Bitter winds eddy the pulsing surface which

breaks to rake smoothly a tide from the steaming sand

In swallowing beat a swollen retreat again

through the depthless sea

Bubbling secrets that rise into foam



II.

The bodies beneath the still water

Sweep through brown clouds that,

In their opacity, and among the weeds,

Curling, beckoning, uncurling

allow their scales to catch light

And with one rare eye, penetrating

I am seen, waiting


III.

I followed the stars into your home

and thought to see, keep

what treasures I touched

in their abundance, you wouldn’t miss one

if you noticed I had been there.

But, you always saw me and gifted me

life, at once, and death to life before

and to know your place in heaven

is to eternally wish

to wet my feet in your waters



IV.

I want you to bury me.

From my tongue,

taste conquest.

I will be still

except to clench my fist

and fill my palm with you.

The noise at the back of my throat-

Don’t stop.

Bury me.
The text to a song cycle about love.
verse Mar 2019
In ur shine i see the bliss of an unwavering repertoire !

You are the shinny point on every star
The glimmer and The glamour
The twinkle little star i see
Forever in my dreams
Ever present in my heart and minds eye
My inflatuation with ur beauty is obsessive

Your brown eyes! ...my drug
Big, with glittering sparks
Entitled to shine forever until days end
When moon rises! ...i sob
When day sleeps and night awakes ...
My heart sinks deep

"How will i survive not seeing you???"
"Dear God make this night pass faster"!!!! ...
"So i can be with my dear sun tomorrow morning"
Max Mar 2019
You, my little wonder, are a metal instrument, pulling milk teeth
A punch in a stomach, followed by a muted growl
Soft, sweet children’s skin torn violently apart by rabid dogs
A throbbing fist, clenched so tight that nails penetrate a palm

You, my little wonder, are the sea of blood
Where the waves boil and burn in a hellish storm
Where the seagulls holler
“Liar! Liar! Liar! Liar!”

You, my little wonder, are my trial, before which I stand naked
Exposed and ashamed, like a local ****
You, my little wonder, are my nightmare that rips my mouth apart and pours itself in

You, my little wonder, are a little wild child, naked, all in blood,
Crying for your mother, lost in the street
Among the dancing snowflakes, too soft, too light to ever touch you
You, my little wonder, are my darkest love, my darkest fear
Next page