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Sienna Luna Jan 2017
picture waves and waves

of golden condensation

swimming in this inner world

of velvet contemplation



bubbly quibbly bits

inside throwing fits

tossing and turning

continually yearning



not at all

what was expected

from you

a slurp

a gulp

a saucy stew

this tingly feeling

if only

you knew

resting gently

inside me

if only

you knew

pressing lightly

against me

if only

you knew

but who knows



maybe you do
Sienna Luna Jan 2017
You are still waters that run deep;

a challenge some may say.

But to me, your closed emotions

are like a test to see



if I can crack you open.



You're not one to spill your secrets

yet every time we talk

whether it be cellular device

or heart to heart in person

I notice



(for intrinsically I notice everything hidden and important not seen with the naked eye)



I notice you slip

some of your most shielded

vulnerabilities

and I catch them

with soft cold hands



(because for some reason or other my hands are always cold)



with soft cold hands warmed

by your toasty rough ones warmed

by your sensible muttering warmed

by your discreet aspirations warmed by your witty attitude.



I like that we can be waggish

together like two jesters

high strung.



My facetious view on life is somewhat wrought with doubt.



My senseless family drama scaling backwards for months on end.

Return is what I want; a sense of peacefulness whereas I'm pulled into the flighty nature of my parents' inconsistencies and my aunts' finicky nature when all I want is for everyone to get along.



You have your barriers drawn and  sometimes and I don't mind it.



We are emotional opposites, bouncing off each other like ping pong *****, but in this scenario it works because we've both got paddles and are willing to play.



That's what I see in you.

An ever-eager possibility;

passionate in your politics,

loyal to your friends,

leader in some circumstances

when I am at a loss for words.



And you spark a sort of electric chord within me, plugging right into my frontal lobe, sparking my interest, lighting up my receptors.



My neurons have never been this happy before; I have never in my life had a romantic reciprocal relationship like this before.



Nothing has prepared me for this.

This floundering of feelings, sloppy, spilling, leaking out of the cauldron every time we speak.



You are boiling broth, a frothy drink I've put up to my lips and sipped from, a drink I did not order but delightful all the same.



You are still waters that run deep;

a sensual spice of parsley or dill that can lighten up any dish;

and it doesn't take a genius to see how much I need a person like you in my life to challenge every predisposition of romance I've seen, read, fantasized or imagined.



Caught in the slipstream of figuring out my future after the new year has yet to arrive. There's still so much to work out; there's still so much hope I have brimming inside me even after my confessions, even after I've asked for forgiveness and complacency.



Where there's hope and forgiveness, there's also peace.



Maybe all it took was the repetition of swimming pools in dreams this past week to understand where I stand. I'm not drowning anymore.

I'm on the edge of the pool looking into clear waters, finding the wise guide of my blue water dragon

and his humongous whiskered face

staring straight at me, into me, telling me that I have all the strength I need to overcome the obstacles. I need not cling to fear any longer. I need not hide away, like I've done in the past, behind thick curtains to blot out the light.



My only constant now is the sun rising and the moon waning.



You are still waters that run deep;

a sure-bound belief



that everything will be okay.
Alienpoet Jan 2017
The dark side of love
Claws and teeth
I am hungry for you
Short skirt aimed in my direction
I need correction
Some might say
To iron out the kinks
But I think sensuality for the soul
Is sometimes being out of control.
Kewayne Wadley Nov 2016
Every gesture,
From every glance to every touch.
Was thoroughly apart of her.
A celebration of confetti scattered about her eyes.
A ****** of adoration.
Her toes bare, gripping the bottom of her shoes through her socks.
An extension of what's felt inside still unseen.
The glow of her skin.
The mess made in her eyes without need for a dust pan nor push broom.
The fluid and grace of being alive without restriction.
She made love outside for all to see.
The wisp of cold air made warm by her sigh.
The door to her now open, doorstop wedged in the crease beneath the door.
In a look exchanged between the thousands of days between her eyelids.
She uttered please don't make slam the door
This is what makes it sacred
Samuel Fox Oct 2016
You ask me what I'd wish for if
I knew it would come true. I knew
it was true: you left me
to sleep out in the cold, dawn
hours and half a globe away.

If it meant I would receive frostbite,
shiver uncontrollably and turn cyanotic,
suffer hypothermia underneath the window
with the blinds closed and you
behind them shedding tears I cannot catch,
I would suffer. I did.

It reminded me of the Thanksgiving
my uncle had me grab the prong of a wishbone,
my best friend on the other side.
We made a wish and the horseshoe of ivory
cracked, and splintered into two pieces.
He got the larger half. I still kept my wish
hidden, hoping, that one day I'd meet you.

I would suckle the sorrow from your fingers,
wipe the tears and mascara with my cheek,
and croon to you I will change. I can change.
But, I must do that; and not for you.

Our love is like that wishbone. Every time
it breaks, we wish but do not work to see it through.
Mara W Kayh Sep 2016
He.
He came to me
as if in a dream.
Manifest out of thin air
by time and life,
And pure desire itself.

I knew him
yet
it was the urge
to discover him
inch by inch
that drove me to
abandon all sense of
propriety.

I surrendered willfully
as he undressed me,
His hand firmly on my breast,
our lips sealed
in a continuous embrace
while hands and body
thirstily searched for skin to hold on to

I was in a daze,
savouring the moment
with a slight nervousness
unbecoming my usual self,
but appropriate for what
was taking place.

A long awaited affair,
fulfilled suddenly,
On short notice.

One night of abandon
In a hotel room
By the ocean
That lasted long after the day broke...
Love and fantasy
traces of being Sep 2016
.
she stood barefooted
and feeling so beautiful
staring out
the frosty
daybreak window
          
visible breath ,
enslaved by a kiss ,
a clouded waft
exhaled
between chapped lips ,  
as smeared tracks
of dripping freshwater pearls
slide down the little pane glass

             the downward trickles
             stirring tingling goose bumps ,
             pushing out
             blossoming
             fighting gravity ,    
             as the chilled air spills
             upon
             sleepy toes
             and naked smiles 
           
             enigmatic eyes
             penetrate through
             the beclouding
             sighs released
            
passion wanes gently
with night’s fleeting shadows ,
the sandman still lingering ,  
yet gazing shamelessly
at intimate breaths visible rouse
        
starry eyes recycling blind hope
like the lightly arising steam ;
      
             the glistening
             frost heave’s sparkle
             just outside the window ,
             where the dawning light
             a single morning sunbeam ,
             enkindles a renewed shine

                         aglow 
             
             tantalizing
             untamed diamonds
             burgeon like splendor
             faceted dreams
...


                         *Wild is the Wind
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