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Kayla Gallant Sep 26
Tear me apart

Smash me to pieces

Release the tension

You know you have the will

Inside your swollen fist

You hold my destiny
only the broken know how to survive
I hate you sometimes
Because you exist
In every single guitar solo
And in every single crowd
I can hear your voice
Just around every turn.
Your eyes are always on me
Even when I'm alone
It's truly an intrusion
Of my privacy
I wish I minded just a little bit more
Maybe then, I could convince myself
That I don't really like you

And all of me knows
That we won't ever come close
To what I'm imagining
But you're older than me
I can picture you holding back
Watching me from the sidelines
As I watch you from the field
Our lives don't cross paths
Only a couple of times
But I can smell the chemistry
That heavy breath before a storm
Judging by that look on your face
When I catch you staring at me
I think you do too
She doesn't look away. When I catch her eye, she doesn't look away. Sometimes we smile and make jokes, but then there's those moments where we stare at each other like fools until one of us realizes we're in public. It's awful. She's supposed to look away, or not look at all.
God, I wish she would just pull me on top of her and tell me to pin her down already. This is ******* terrible.
Ken Pepiton Sep 4
A brownie being offered him,
the missionary cringes;

he's heard rumors,
messages have been passed on,
Sybils served tea and
chocolatte once fed gods
native to this chapparral where I dwell

with lizards and coyote, yote, like mote in y'eye

don't let the accent fool ya, said the preacher from his jet.
I say,

Wise ***** are not named otherwise, in The Bible, I mean.
SO,
lieve me being in the *******
is no missing of the message
wrapped
in Christmas ribs.

We've come quietly, adverbs being repre-ived,
at the moment
from stupid Tom Swifty readers, ****-flash

I hate lys, not because Stephen King does,
but be cause Herr Dunklesohn
mocked me
forn not recognizing a Tom Swifty as such.

Same guy told me Mrs. Malaprop was named for her
character-istic
intrusion of forced onset cognition ignition

the technic in fully articulated use of F and N in S
and M toned down to PG

when, gee, I think we're alone.

leaves us dangling near the source of Jonatan Edwards
actual
idea
the thread that holds us, for all we weigh in worthiness,

nada, right? so we ain't heavy. riiiight. bro. sos ye know,
this ain't me, we integrated, we crazy voices in the readers mind

we all sound the same so some same same-same
life goes down the drain

in one swirling direction from a solar POV, but bacwards,

not *******, blowing, in the wind, the answer,
my friend,

stupid chant an encantation from the substrata

think nothing
meditate
of it
sit

squirm and be a kid. You made it. This is the rest in the story.
Ah, that felt wonderful.
OC Sep 3
We are
superficial beings
densely packed on the fringe
of histories in contact.

We’re torn apart
by discord from within
and rush together
when pressure rises from outside,

The balance of the two
along with our emphatic bonds
encapsulates our collective ego
defines how full we are
of ourselves.
12th installment in the series of poems inspired by physics (see 1st installment for details). Further information: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Young%E2%80%93Laplace_equation

Thoughts and comments are welcome
Hands playing around
Skin touching abound
Craving for some connection
Hissing of secret conversations
Melting stares
More of this flare
Lingering of each other's perfume
Mimicking and smelling
Tension on the roll
Are you in?
Are we doing it?
Love just say it
Do you want me
Do you crave for me
Do you
Do it
You

XOXO
gracie Aug 30
and your halo can be seen on november nights before the car starts
when our breath is cold in the air
and, for a moment,
your words can be seen instead of felt.

when i look out the window,
i see a streetlight.
CautiousRain Aug 18
You held back with so much tension,
every time you laid a finger upon my skin,
and I never realized how much
you must've been fighting
your compulsions
to break through me.
Maybe it wasn't so romantic after all...
A M Ryder Aug 16
The arrow endures
The bow string's tension
So that in the release
It can become
More than itself
Lucy Aug 4
As the ice is getting thinner
and there’s tension you could touch
you still feel like you’re the winner
though I say it’s all too much.
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