Sylph Jun 12
It all started with a curious peck on the cheek.

Her body was pressed against mine, and I held on to her small waist--making sure to lift her up just enough so that she could reach my face. Her feet hovered over the ground, and her palms laid flat against my chest. Her usually pale cheeks took on a light rosy tint, and her lips lifted up into an innocent, little smile as she finally leaned back.

It was...very cute.

I couldn't exactly say anything about her eyes since they were covered by a black piece of cloth.
It was a bit surprising how willingly she followed my request--simply because she knew how much I hated it when people saw my face.

I suppose that she had her own motives as well.
"I'm done!"
Still, was one kiss on the cheek really worth it for all her troubles?
"You can put me down now."

I didn't think so.

"Wha--?"
I didn't let her finish as I gently pressed my lips against hers.

They were incredibly soft.
Just how I expected them to be.

She let out a faint squeak of surprise, and soon it turned into a soft whimper as she weakly responded to the kiss. Her movements were hesitant, but with the way her hands grasped my shirt so tightly, I knew she was unwilling to let me go.

Maybe.
Just maybe.

I felt the same way.
random thoughts~ another old thing
Sylph Jun 11
A quiet yawn, and a soft pop of bones coming into place could be heard from the bedroom as one of its owners slowly rose from her short slumber. She wasn't meant to be awake until the afternoon, but it was a bit difficult for her to break the habit of waking early.

Looking off to the side, a small smile quickly made its way to her lips as she saw that her partner was still fast asleep. Supressing the urge to snap a quick picture, she slowly made her way out of the bed, making sure to leave a pillow on her spot just in case her lover decided to cuddle in his sleep a bit.

He always did love holding her close--regardless of whether or not he was awake--and she loved letting him do it.

Using the back of her hand to gently rub the sleep away from her still blurry eyes, she made a quick trip to the bathroom. Being in just her underwear wasn't exactly going to be enough protection from the chilly morning air, but she was a bit too lazy and sluggish to fetch proper clothing.

She was hoping that she could use it as an excuse for him to warm her up with plenty of hugs later on when he wakes up.

Once that was all said and done, she immediately went to the kitchen. Admittedly, she was never really all that good in cooking, but it wouldn't hurt to try and make an effort for her sleeping beauty. Making sure to grab her striped apron, she got to work on their breakfast.

Going back to the bedroom, her lover had just woken up as well. With a soft groan, and a displeased frown on his lips, he looked towards his side.

She was gone.

It was no wonder that he had suddenly woken up from his dreamless sleep.

Still, once hearing the faint echo of pans, and footsteps from their kitchen, his frown immediately disappeared. With a content sigh, he went to the bathroom to freshen up a bit, before immediately going to the kitchen.

He leaned against the side of the entryway and watched as she hummed and seemingly skipped around the kitchen. He was never much of a morning person, but he did love to watch her cook, and that was enough to keep his usual grumpiness at bay. It was amusing how happy she was while cooking, and at the same time, he couldn't help but feel incredibly grateful that she had decided to completely give herself to him.

He considered himself to be a lucky man.

Even if he might not realize it, she undoubttedly felt the same way about him.

With a chuckle, he quietly made his way to her. Placing both of his hands on either side of her, he had successfully trapped her between him and the kitchen counter. Feeling her body jump a bit in surprise, he didn't hesitate to lean down and press a soft kiss to her exposed neck. It had always amused him how small she was compared to him.

Their size difference had been one of her many insecurities, but admittedly, he actually liked it--especially whenever they idly cuddle while watching movies, or even doing nothing.

"Good morning~" her voice was soft and sweet with hints of sleepiness still mixed in.

"G'morning." He continued to press kisses to her neck, making sure to pay extra attention to the still-visible hickeys from last night. She was a bit rigid at first, but slowly, her body relaxed, and she allowed herself to lean against him. She tilted her head to the side, giving him much better access to her sensitive neck.

"What, no morning kisses?" She teased and decided to stop what she was currently doing. He was being too much of a welcomed distraction, and she didn't want any accidents to happen because of it.

No sooner, he gently grabbed her chin to tilt her head to face him, and pressed a kiss to her still-parted lips.
The kiss was short, and sweet, but it didn't really seem to be enough for the both of them.

"One more?"
He didn't need to be told twice. In fact, he would be happy to repeat it multiple times for her. True to what he thought, he did it again, and again, and again--with each one being more intense than the last.

The only reason he stopped was when he noticed that her chest heaved, and that they were both out of breath. Still, he would be lying if he said that he didn't want more.

It didn't exactly take long for him to ask, "Would it be alright if we skipped to dessert first, love?"

Trapped in her dazed state, all she could do in response was nod.
Old thing I wrote ;v; partially sensual fluff ;v; Imma go hide now
Jeff Gaines Jun 8
>>> This is the first-ever "NoPo at HePo" (Non-poetry at Hello Poetry) upload. It is a new way to share your writings here, Fiction or non. I hope you enjoy it. If you choose to join in, PLEASE place the notice ">>NOPO@HEPO<<" so that folks that look for them can find them and folks that wanna skip them, can skip them! ) <<<

___________________
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  I was snorkeling one afternoon in the often-murky waters of my hometown. The visibility was as hazy as ever. I swam among the usual schools of fish and took care to avoid the Sharks, Barracudas and little Pricklyfish that can be so annoying if they brush against you. As I swam over the top of my favorite reef,
A most beautiful light caught my eye ...

  In the murk, I couldn’t see what it was emanating from ... but without a thought, my fins pushed me  straight towards it. Gliding over the flat grassy bottom between the reef and the shore my heart began to race in disbelief ...

  There ...

  Swimming just under the waves ...

  Looking at me ...

  Was a Mermaid ...

  When you stop laughing, I want you to picture how I felt. I couldn’t believe it, and I knew no one else would either. But my fascination wasn’t the fact that she was a Mermaid at all ... I was awestruck by the light that shined all around her.

  It was amazing. It wasn’t any one color ... It was all colors ... and no color at all. Its radiance and sparkle were absolutely captivating. I couldn’t look away from it even if I had wanted to ... And I didn’t want to. If she had turned out to be some kind of ocean going huntress in search of her next meal, I would have easily been her next victim. I would have willingly done anything to be shown in that breathtaking light.

  Lucky for me she was harmless ... at least physically. I had to remind myself to take breaths as I tried to get closer without scaring her away ... Like I said, she was looking at me too. The light continued to lure me ... I was held there, completely helpless, in its grasp. As I gazed into it, I couldn’t figure out where it was coming from.

  At first, I thought it was her smile. Then I thought it might be from her eyes ...
But I was wrong on both counts ...
The light was coming from her ...
I could feel it around me like a warm breeze on a balmy Florida night.

  I wanted to stay there ...  

  Forever ...

  Forever in that moment of seeing this wondrous spectacle for the first time. But time is persistent and often cruel. And the moment left me. I was distracted by shadows that appeared in the light as I got closer. My emotions swirled like an eddy in a tidal pool as I realized what the shadows were ... Her light had attracted many other swimmers and as I looked at their faces I could see that they had been attracted to the light, just like me.

  I didn’t know whether to be jealous or feel sorry for them ... after all, I still didn’t know her intentions. I watched them staring into the light ... I knew how they felt ... But in that moment I also felt what they wanted. I began to recognize some of them as Sharks, Barracudas and Pricklyfish ...

  Part of me wanted to chase them off ...
To defend and protect her. But I am a live and let live type of person. Besides, out here in the ocean, if you let your guard down to save someone ... you might just find yourself as the meal instead. I chose to keep my distance and watch her. But to my overjoyed amazement, she spoke to me. I didn’t understand her language, nor she, mine. But we were able to communicate enough to begin some kind of bond. It was all I could hope for. It was all so quixotic.

  That first encounter ended all too soon. After all, I couldn’t stay in her world for long ... and, I would soon find out, she couldn’t stay in mine. Everyday I would return to that area near the reef. I couldn’t help myself. I could see her light even when I closed my eyes ... it had, for those first few days become part of me. Its grip was warm and welcome.

  With each visit I tried with all my might to teach her my language and to learn hers. There were many moments when the frustration from lack of understanding pushed us apart. But, I was so enamored with her, that I not only braved the Sharks, Barracuda and Pricklyfish, I went and got my license to scuba dive so that I could spend more time in her world.

  She seemed to appreciate my efforts, but the first few times I tried to bring her to my world, She changed her mind or something drew her back to the sea. I would walk up on to the beach and turn to see her reaction to its beauty, but she was gone. I wanted to hold her hand as I swam towards the shore but I’m not like that. I needed to know that she wanted to come to my world. That was important to me and I felt like maybe that would help her understand me better ... More frustration.

  One evening on the third or fourth try, I found myself alone in the surf again. I was convinced by this time that she didn’t want to come to my world. She always seemed appreciative of my coming to hers and even eager to come to mine ... but each time, I walked up onto the beach alone. I walked along in the sand that night ... My head slightly hanging. I didn’t know whether to be mad or frustrated.

  Our communication hadn't improved much in those first few weeks. I turned to look at the Moon, as it set, big and orange into the ocean. I looked across the waves for her light but it wasn’t there. Sadly I closed my eyes as I tried to think of what I should do ... And there it was ... The light ... it washed over my face with a smile ... her smile ... my smile ...

   I wanted to let it go, but I couldn’t. I stood there for what seemed like forever and basked in its warmth. But the thought, or maybe the realization that she was never going to come to my world, made me open my eyes ... And, the moment left me ... briefly ...

  To my amazement, there she was. She had walked up out of the surf while my eyes were closed. I looked at her and for a second I thought the light was gone. I was wrong ...
It wasn’t gone ...


  It had become my light too ... or maybe she had finally let me stand inside it with her ... I’m not sure to this day which. Those few precious hours with her in my world meant more to me than I could ever say. The look in her eyes and the way we communicated that night made me feel incredible. She shared so many things about herself; her world and her life with me that I felt honored and even privileged to be enlightened with such insight about her.

  I found myself effortlessly sharing some of my innermost thoughts and emotions with her as well. By the time the sun came up, She was curled up under my arm as we slept on the floor. I was sure when we awoke that she would have to return to her world ... but to my amazement she actually asked to spend more time with me! I was overjoyed.

  There are those that have said that too much of a good thing is bad. Even a hedonist like me can agree with that. But I would have given anything to have more of those moments with her.

  They were incredible.
  
  They were without inhibitions ...
  
  They were without tension ...
  
  They were without stress ...

  But more than anything  ... They were without motive.

  We were two glorious beings ... both quite different ...
Both quite the same ... sharing a few timeless moments together; neither wanting any more than a deeper knowledge of the other.

  It was beautiful.

  But perhaps it was too much for her … being out of her world for too long. She had told me she’d not left it in a very long time. I was glad to help her come out of her shell and look inward on herself a little. She had done the same for me whether she realized it or not. But let’s face it, my world can be a little overwhelming sometimes and I think she had had the proverbial “Too much of a good thing”.

  She almost seemed to panic. Her mood was one of aloofness and anxiety. Her statements started to become irrational and I found myself feeling not only frustrated ... but also guilty.  I was asking too much for her to spend so much time with me.

  I know ... It was She who had asked for the extension of our meeting. But I should have said no and let it end on a good note. After all ... Time is persistent. I had all the time in the world ... or so I thought. But, like I said earlier, I would have given anything to make those few moments last forever. She was wonderful. It turns out that those were our last moments. I took her to the beach and watched her as she waded back into her world. I begged her to let me come back to the ocean with her but she refused. Something I’d said or done had made her think that I now had a motive of some sort. I couldn’t convince her otherwise. I tried, but it was futile.

   I watched her slip under the waves and she was gone ... And so was her light. I was so confused ... I didn’t know whether to be relieved or hurt ... blessed or angry. After a few nights, her light returned in the form of her siren calls from deep beneath the waves ... I would lay in my bed late, late at night and listen to them.

  They were confusing at first, but when I realized she was hearing me as well, I became at peace with the whole thing. I was thankful for those few precious moments and sad to think that our inability to understand each other had pushed us so far back into our own worlds.

  I guess there’s some comfort in knowing though ... that time is persistent.

 I think of her every time I smell the ocean.

     ~Jeff Gaines
Port Richey, Florida.
             2002
To say I've had some bad luck with women would be quite the understatement. Obviously, this is a metaphorical story about a girl that touched my life. To try and explain it all here would turn this from a short story into a novel!

So, read between the lines, ponder it deeply, read into it it any way you wish.
I simply hope you enjoyed it.

If you have a question (NOT to tell you the WHOLE story) about the piece or this new format of uploads, feel free to ask away!

BIG LOVE TO ALL!

~J
I opened my eyes in the pre-dawn light and saw the quote on the wall. “Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” Emily Bronte from Wuthering Heights. I suddenly felt uneasy as I slowly digested what the quote meant or could mean. I got the feeling the female he shared the apartment with might be more than just a close friend.

Although the rest of the place was somewhat impersonal, no photos sitting around anywhere. Something just feels off with this and my gut is almost always right. I’ve been turning over different theories in my head the entire 8 months I have known him. Once I saw that quote on the wall, I felt the sudden urge to flee. So I quietly got off the couch, grabbed my sweatshirt & jeans and put them on.

I was lucky he was a deep sleeper, I had made it out of the house without him waking up. I also had found it unusual he is on his ex’s Netflix account. Could she be the mysterious roommate? His eyes had shifted when I asked if he slept with anyone else while we were previously hooking up. I could tell most of the things he said via text earlier in the evening was mostly bullshit.

It was okay though because I can at least recognize it now. He may be using me but I’m using him right back now so I’m not letting anything get to me. I shrug off my theories and say to myself, “you know what, I don’t really want to know and I don’t really give a fuck.” Because I’m not falling for another lying, cheating douchebag again.
Based on a true story.
Frances May 26
With anvils for feet, the snails may have moved faster, for their noose of anxiety wasn't pulled so tight. They may have covered more than to that of which I see, though the entire existence of their species  may have been as long as I may had been looking. I would shoot arrows of curiosity without knowing where the target be.
  Just as another fairy tale, relief on my feet was seemingly unimaginable, far fetched and unattainable. Like old change, seeds of a variety filled my pockets. The soil and sun were the only things I trusted. Reaping a sow would be a blessing unto me. After years of crawling, discovering, and disappointing wandering with wide eyes, the hills and peaks had shown as a distraction from the lessening softness of my now calloused hands. The necessity of rest was as strong as the need of a newborn baby's mid afternoon nap, but before the seeds are nestled, work mustn't cease. By every stem, petal, fruit, and butterfly, in the center of the valley of a vast bed of wild flowers would I hope to carry this heaviness no more. The desire for this comfort and caress lead me to find a sweet place to rest. For uncountable hours of wandering, only this would be gratification. I came upon a large patch of dirt as dark as midnight. With every handful of soil wriggling of worms graced my hardened palms. Only the ground saw me enchanted by the romance of its potential. The seedlings would be sung; "As you cuddle in the soil, remember that's where your roots will prepare, unto you this watering will fall, as you are all so loyal, I will be loyal to you, the air will give you care, let me lay eyes upon your beautiful hue, as the sun is what you will see, don't leave the soil bare, set yourself free". In the troughs like dried moats, each seed received a adornment of a kiss like that unto a child by their mother. Every hole doused like that of a spring sunflower, and burrowed into the sleeping dusk of dirt with the expectation of an awakening of a blossom. There, as one expects the rising of the sun, I would await the flowers arrival.
I lay suspended by the freedoms of a remote forest. Within the untouched, unadulterated altruistic scene of remoteness, the skepticism let drained. Knowing my skin may not be slaughtered by reaching thorns, I undressed layers of tattered threads. Most of what would freely escape from my lips were the enticement of belief motivated by bliss and enjoyment. Where my skin remained blushed and dewy from the days after the solstice of summer, to the later days of leaves saying good bye to the trees extended arms, and grass frosted by the baker of autumn, like a lightning bolt strikes at random, as did a stagnancy. The seedlings were viewed upon as the old dark witch from the town: cursed. It was as though they had stage fright and the sun was their audience.
I ask, "why, Lord? Has though forsaken my field? What must I bestow?". Concealed, like a feral cat, was the reasoning for this. As ritual as the church goers Sunday excursion, was my ritual of prayer.
Clouding in my mind happened with contemplation of a new pioneering. I knew this to be only a sliver of land off of the plank of fertile country side. Simultaneous  to this fantasy, a shadow danced in the corner of my eyes. Usually trust worthy was my vision, though it became a mystery. Fear not did I, as I turned to follow the darkness, I saw nothing forthright. It's reappearance came as a spook, but as one would in a sword fight, I followed the elusive figure within my eyes. It was as though there was an unsuspecting solar eclipse at high noon. The figure didn't remain hidden, and the dancing ceased. As a knight removes their armor to cradle a loving partner, he opened his cloak to reveal a man with the most poignant essence of freshly mowed grass, smoldering ashes, and a thanksgiving meal. These things were the quintessence of my childhood. His eyes, not beating, but, like a baby's glare, soft and forgiving, unlike the folktales my father told me. Did my eyes deceive me? Ensorcelled, I had succumb to this. Uncontrollably my eyes repeatedly vertically gaze upon him. I met no gaze, but darkness. While the remembrance of evening tide pull you further if not in recognition of its power, without choice, or fight, I had succumb to this. Weighed down by rocks you couldn't see, as though I was called to my knees. His presence eluded to a parental guide. When I lay there, as I become sunk in the soil, He advised me. "This acreage will be your ball and chain for entering this land. With out excavation, Intentions of leaving your possessions have inhibited exiting though you desire continuation. You must water it with your tears". My golden hair became brown with dirt, and my pale skin so dark, as I wept till the sun grew cold, and the moon graced me like a lullaby with soft illumination.
As a once saturated sponge goes dry, by every last drop, drained dry were my eyes, and the ground enriched. After the clock hit twelve for the 10th night, The reaper spoke again. He said "This land was mine. I set it aside, so those who have evil in their heart may not reap what they sow here, so it may not be robbed of its nutrients for something unwholesome. Within it's enchantment, the soil may only be fertile by those who will enrich it with passion. If you wanted to leave you wouldn't be confined, but if your heart remained, as would you. You will stay until you may leave with something beautiful. This priceless soil belonged to me, as this is where my betrothed had lain. The tables have turned because it has been sowed by a someone who has surrendered to me. Your patients serves you. My dear, The wealth is in your heart." His encompassing gratitude, and cherishment remained, as he had left. The grandfather clock sung to the flowers, as did I.
I was always told only the sun could bring beauty in life. I wore a black veil of naive belief. The garden appeared to always have been misted. The sun kissed my plants so gently, their blooms were welcomes to this realm, and the wind would make them frolic together like a colorful oceanic wave, but instead of dolphins peaking the dense surface, you would see the makers of the garden. Relentless pollinators made the perimeter buzz. You could see the twinkle and flutter of every dragonfly, lady bug, butterfly, and bee as their fluorescent wings caught the sun. Almost as though my life depended on it, like a bear in a cave of constant hibernation, I would nestle myself in this secret garden. Leaving here with nothing but flowers intertwined in my hair, and around my heart.
Nihit Bhatia Apr 21
A little boy called LOVE, was once upon a time, the purest soul across heaven. He was the chosen one by the God's to spread his wings of love all across the cosmos. He was trained day and nights under the supervision of angels to spread love in different circumstances. No one knew where love came from, who his parents were etc. All these questions neither mattered to him nor anyone else. He was just content on being pampered by others. Poor soul had no other intentions on his mind. All he knew he had to keep the candle of love burning in everyone's heart. But all this pampering came at a cost. The God's had decided that love can never ever fall in love either with himself or with anyone else. As his age progressed, he understood and still kept multiplying his love on others.

One fine day, while strolling in the garden, he noticed a strange looking girl playing with flowers there. She was wrapped in a white gown from top to bottom and on top of her heard was a golden Halo. He instantly figured out her as an new angel in this heaven. Nevertheless, he went ahead and smiled at her and she too smiled back at him and introduced herself as LUST. Love was just awestruck by her beauty, grace, charm, exotic lips and eyes. He had never ever been this close to a person of opposite sex. With stuttering words coming out of his mouth, he finally said, I am LOVE. The two of them were just lost in each other's universe at that time and stood there like statues. But as said, every beautiful breathe comes to an end, and so did they. With the night covering the day with it's blanket, the two of them returned back to their little huts and the whole night did not even blink their eyes once. Love was joyful at what he saw today, but then realized he promised to the God's never to fall in love with himself or anyone else.

The days went by, and everything was silent in the gardens. Lust would stay for hours and hours in the gardens, hoping love would come by to see her. But he proved her wrong for a long time. Love too was getting eaten up by this emotion from inside. This impacted his way of functioning and gradually there were Angels questioning on his way of serving. Love kept quiet and did not answer anything. How could he let everyone know about lust. It was a forbidden sin. Both could be banned from the heavens for eternities and maybe more. Nevertheless, love started deceiving his superiors, by functioning in a different way. After all these years of experience, he did learn a trick or two about himself.

The next day he went to the garden and saw lust, turning lush flowers into black ones. He just went in front of her, grabbed her by her face and kissed and kissed and kissed, till those black flowers, turned red again. But here he displayed something strange. His gravity itself changed from love to lust. How deviating was this to see. Lust on the other hand, was not able to understand what was happening. Why is he kissing her continuously? What's on his mind today?.
Every where a strange phenomenon started taking place, including the heavens. The God's, the angels, the Messengers, everyone started indulging in a sensual session of foreplay, followed by sex. This type of bodily change had never happened to anyone before. It was a new, refreshing emotion to all.

After the coitus between love and lust, while everyone was deeply mediated by sleep. Love explained to lust what he did today. He explained the promise he had given to God's about never falling in love. But this was when he was a child. naïve and innocent, to know what love meant. But too be with her forever, he played a trick of bypassing the God's Golden rule and transformed his energy of love into her. This way love shall never be without lust, and neither lust without love.
"What is poetry without words,
Identically,
What is love without lust".
©nihitbhatia
Jules M Apr 16
Daddy yelled at me - "Stop crying, and take it like a man!!" - and I shriveled up into myself, being a baby again. I tried to think of all the happy things we had done before that - Daddy let me watch him play WOW, and he played a board game with me, for the first time since I had met him! - and there were a couple, but it was hard not to feel the pain, and to not cry... Eventually, though, I learned to stop; when Daddy told me to pull my pants down, and bend over the edge of the bed for a spanking, I did it shakily, but I did not cry, even if Daddy hit me with a belt. I 'took it like a man', but it seemed Daddy did not like that, even though that is what he had told me to do. He yelled again - "I might as well spank you double, since it doesn't seem to bother you!!" - but I did not cry. This made Daddy stop eventually, but when Daddy turned into Father, I wished I could get the physicality back. The shaming, and yelling, and screaming, and fighting was so much worse - it made me want to die. When I told father this, he only did it more; so I tried to die. Then he left me on my own, ashamed of me; from then on, I wrote until my fingers callused, and drew until my hand cramped, to have a world of my own, where nobody was shamed for wanting to cry, or end their lives.
Inspired be a prompt on Writetheworld
the rain falls on my face and slowly I awaken its dark but the lightning unveils the raging sea in the distance. I drank too much again. When I have too much to drink I feel like god when he stared at the earth as it flooded powerful in the most violent angry way. I can feel the left side of my face swelling up making it hard to see out of my left eye. Everything was going fine til I saw you across the bar with him. The look I saw in your eyes taught me multiplication faster then any teacher ever could. One shot was replaced for two every twenty minutes. Before my mind catches up with my body I'm next to you saying an awkward hello sizing up your new man. The rage makes me white hot to the touch and my mouth shoots out sly remarks like machine guns.  The next thing I remember I was staring at the ceiling. I guess that's the cost of loving the daughter of the most powerful mob boss in Miami. You kiss me on the cheek and tell me you wish me the best and like that your leaving with him. I lay there motionless praying to a silent god that the void would absorb me and end my agony. However nothing happens I get up dust myself off and leave to avoid further embarrassment. Parked around back is my old excuse of a car 96 corolla. like an eye sore I spot my car I get in only to spot him again . This time I can hardly believe my eyes she's hitting him and screaming at him. I try to make out the words but they're to far away. The rages begins to stir away to a boiling point when he smacks her across the face.  like a bull seeing red I explode and like that I'm out of the car charging him yelling the drunken battle cry of anyone about to get knocked out on the by the beach. I charge like a lion and like a poacher he ready's himself. I feel my knuckles explode as my hand greets his cheek. He sends a deadly left hook at my ribs before falling to the ground. I continued to attack him til he stopped moving and the look in your eyes you gave me was pale white. Looking down at what was now a dead man I vomit everywhere and run away. I don't look back I run straight to my beat down apartment and prepare for the worse. Clockwork really before its six in the morning five guys with guns show up and break my door down. With a butcher knife in hand I run for the back door only to feel the crescendo of bullets entering my body. I fall to the ground and think about what you said.
"I'll never hurt you"
Just a short story I wrote as a spur of the night
Kaleigh Mar 25
Leave the money on the counter.

I'll get it later.

Can't deal right now.

Can't breathe right now.

Slip my coins into the payphone.

I plead to see you again, but you hang up.

Tears fall like a wonderfall, my bones feel so old, I'm so cold.

Why do I have such a hollow head?

Can't lay myself down to bed.

All these monsters running around, they want my skin.

Sallow me like a pill, spit me out when night turns to gold.

I just don't want to be alone, is the story he told.

He's not a knight or a king, sitting upon a throne.

A lost boy, searching in the dark.

But I'll find him, and call him my own.

Our brains are empty, bile covering the tiled floors.

We met at a party, avoiding contact with everyone else.

But when I saw your eyes, I knew you were going to be mine.

He's my drug and I'm his anecdote.

We're helpless animals, shouting in the dead of night.

Like little kids, we chase each other to the river.

The moon shinning bright, lovers whisper meaningful words.

But we'll travel downtown, your hollow head on my shoulder.
This poem is based off a little short story I'm writing <3
Nihit Bhatia Mar 13
I was sixteen when dad passed away and mom was forty six at that time. Our world just ended, like the twin towers of America.
But what shocked mom even more was my affair with a school boy, who was our neighbor too.
She confiscated all his love letters, before I could even glance through them. My world, my first love story too ended like those towers.
It wasn't until I turned 25 and fine one day, as I was cleaning my mom's room, I found those letters written for me by my ex, hidden in my mom's clothes along with the rose flower.
When I started reading, I realized why mom confiscated those letters in the first place. Those were not letters, instead poems of lust mixed with love.
While reading those poems, I never realized when I got undressed and started   making my fingers dance between my thighs.
I am pretty sure those poems satisfied mom too every night at the fullest. Lemme read one here:
"Come her my dirty bitch,
  Come to your master,
‎ who is waiting anxiously,
‎ to explore your body,
‎ Tonight I won't stop,
  And make you,
  ‎ride me non-stop,
  ‎till you go breathless".
This is a short story mixed with a poem. Trying something different. Hope you guys like it.
Honest feedbacks would be appreciated.
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