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Private Party next door,
My Pen ready to commit ******...
Joy of life though not a sin
For them everything a Joy spin.

Dance! Dance and live your passions
As you are! Dance... But please, leave me alone with my poetry and my soul.
Kate Livesay Jan 2021
I’ve saved our letters,
They’re in a box in my closet.

Nothing screams pain more than old words.
Words that meant the world in that moment,
But over time,
Entered into a downward spiral.

I loved how you curled your Y’s,
And oh-so confidently striked through your A’s.
That .38 pen fit you too well.

The floral stamps reminded me of a crowded garden,
One filled with bees, butterflies, and even grasshoppers.
You got those at the Art Museum, I just know it.

An asymmetrical heart sealed the letter,
Instantly ripped in half by my eagerness to read your words.
Did you kiss the heart where the envelope seals, just like I do?

Before flooding myself with your paragraphs,
I delicately brought the parchment to my nose.
Ambrosial, particles of your aroma trapped into the air of the envelope, spread on the parchment.

I am grateful for our endearments that are captured on paper.
No time for reliving, only reminicinsing.

Thank you. So so much.
You will never know how important it was to me.
snail mail is my favorite
Roxx3000 Jan 2021
The pen wrote this
Not me
The pen wrote this
So free
The pen wrote
What I couldn’t see
Påłpëbŕå Jan 2021
With every glide
of my tip,
I make you mine
as I worship
your beautiful body
your ****** skin,
making me yours
tempting me to sin
with every mark
I leave on you,
inking all my
dark dangerous hue,
I lose a piece
of my heart
everytime
your lips part
and I wait for
us to reach above
the euphoria
of making love
until
you milk
me dry and run
out of space by
coming undone.

"Our intimacy
sets the poets free
helping them
create poetry".

-said the pen to the paper
Though I don’t know
Exactly what to say
Still I must respond
To the undying impulse to write
Meaningless be It may
Still the flames I’ll sustain
And reward myself with the joy
Of a holding a pen
This is a call
A duty I must perform
So when the urge comes
I allow my heart to flow
Into the streams of many generations
Yes, generations yet to come
So when my torch burns out
My life will still glow
Like a many thousand lights
Long after I am gone
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