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Anna Sep 14
The lights flashed
In the dreary hallway
Through the keyhole, he watched her run
His hands were red as his eyes
The room maid heard everything
From shots to running steps
Oh, Annabeth
What did he do with you
She was caught in a nightmare
And for that there was no escape
Bunny trap in hotel bed sheets
We all heard he screaming to hell
He wanted her back
But he made a colossal mistake
She didn't reach the hotel front door
Oh, Annabeth.
annh Aug 23
Tendrils of drowsy pleasure entice and hypnotise,
As daybreak storms; a rapturous collision,
Of distorted cadences and scintillating harmonies,
Between discarded blue-sky sheets.

‘I love to feel the temperature drop and the wind increase just before a thunderstorm. Then I climb in bed with the thunder.’
- Amanda Mosher, Better To Be Able To Love Than To Be Loveable
Margaret Jean Aug 23
I’m sitting in the bathroom (again)
Is this where I go to hide now?
I guess.
I’m here, hiding
Aren’t I?

I’ve just arrived
It’s the first night, and I
Was so excited to go
And finally be downstairs
Wasn’t I?

But here I am, once again
Hiding in a ******* bathroom
Clinging to a pillow
Wishing it could cling back
Shouldn’t I?

Be downstairs? Yeah, probably
I was so **** ready
Eager, to be here
I’ve been here twice already
Haven’t I?

In theory, yes, my body
Has been, physically, in this space
But, so was someone else’s
The first time, he was here
Can’t I?

Move on from then and be here, now
Yeah, definitely
Hopefully
But then I realize
Won’t I?

Think of the second time
He was here, not physically
But, in spirit, fictionally
He was gone yet present
And I?

I am here now, for the third time
But he’s not here
Physically, fictionally - presently
Only in my mind
Will I?

Learn how to love these moments
With you no longer in mind
Pillows and sheets that cling back
Now just memories _
I -

I’ll ask them all downstairs
But tonight,
I’ll stay in this bathroom - it’s nice  
Towels, right next to me
So many of them

Thrice, I’m thankful

Goodnight.
Nina Aug 2
I'm laying on my bed
That was freshly washed
The sweet fresh scent
Had me thinking of you.

The first time you were on my bed
Was the day i had washed them
Cuddling you in my bed
With your smell blended with the sheets
The smell i could fall asleep to
The one that makes me feel safe

I'm smelling my bedsheets again
But this time
Its lacking you
Nigdaw Jul 21
Virginal linen
Clean sheets that are washed of sin
Unsoiled by past loves
Nat Lipstadt Jul 13
love between poets: “who will be between the sheets next week
when I’m gone,” she lets sigh-escape,
as she watches the backyard paradise parading landscape
of animals before the bay, perfect day sure to come,
her new pets obeying the early morn sunrising awakening call
to rise, everyone playing~parading, before her royal summons,
no coincidence, finger-of-god, two by two

this while I’m kissing her neck,
my arm around her *******,
and the he-intent on slip sliding down
to the small of her back,
obeying his innate,
worship worshiping and giving up,
all he’s got intense intently contentedly

unfazed, unphased,
non-nonplussed,
he’s been interrogated before,
heart is pure he answers:

next weekend when you are back in situ,
thousands of miles away, airplane housed for hours,
writing poems of love from the lost and found,
recalling this exact moment,
how I worshipped your presence,
and these words:

You will be with me in every breath,
our sheets will radioactively emit
ions and molecules of our scent combined,
and present as present  your perfume can be,
elicited, elixir, you and me combinant

she turns from the bay-view,
the animals who now mutually
worship her adoration,
watching, focused on us as observers,
she lifts me up and smiles,
replying

“oh my lover you’re the cad of cads,
king of the baddest poet-lads,
the gist of what is wrong with the best of men,
her, pressing me hard to her chestnut hair chest,
she, falling down into my eyes

take me back to bed, liar,
let me add to my aroma,
to ensue, to ensure you will miss
the best love
you had partly, insufficiently, and unhinged
completely

I’m your lassie, you my lad,
my king of cads, my lover poet,
thief of my poems and my secret speech spells,
escalating senses of one’s imaginings”


and,
along came the rest
of what was freely given,
for love between poets
man and
a woman,
is a someone, somewhere,
sometime summertime
thing

I will still smell you in my
heart, and send to you ballistic missives,
words to explode your tear ducts
when you rest in sheets that met me,
when you’ll know me by my odors,
cry out loud so that you’ll scare our animals,
no matter how many tides wash away our residue,
you will never unknow and be forever unprepared
for my return,


even though we will be each, a thousand unwritten poems away...
I’m scared that the years
Will take my youth away
To leave nothing instead
But those blank sheets
And unkept promises
Getting older just terrifies me...
Kenji May 16
<You're not *****, you're hungry
and the flesh you taste is not the one you choose

It's a darkness and a light
A salve and an open wound
Bodies mix and twist

You don't want to be ******
You want to be satiated

And if your sheets could talk, darling
They tell of the loneliest *******

Paint yourself blue and bleed out
Sensual sins succulent like honey
Licked lips waiting for more

Darling there's never enough

>If sheets could talk, they would whisper sins.
Your voice of calm magnetic enigma, yet, your body screams for more.
You pull me, twist me, wrap around me, riding me.

Lonliest ******* of a saint waiting to be loved.
Instead, ******* the wrong, and bleeding with pain.

Love me, she says. Hurt me, she says. choke me.
Sensual, and so seductive. You pull me in.
Daddy... She screams

There's never enough, she just wants more, she pleads with a hungry heart, because he can't love her like she wants him to, so sin, succulent like honey, is what she needs to choose.
A collab written by me and Jack Jenkins
A beautiful piece
Me >
Jack <
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