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Leon Dec 2018
You knew what perfection tasted like
as if you’ve molded limbs in a soulful dance
or bathed in each other’s voices in song

You knew what iniquity smelled like
the sickening sweet scent
from whenever your finger bones ran
graciously along her hair like the waves rushed to meet the shore

And through either you created me:
a strong bitter abyss that looks too much like heaven
drowned deep into the ***** ***** of the eye

If you had not laid your flesh like a crown around my throne,
their tongues would not have craved for even a single crystal of you
you who slips carelessly pretty upon the seas

Our amalgamation was never meant to be candid
no melange with our imprints meant to stand the kisses of the sea
our collisions orchestrate an ecstacy, one that morphs with my solitude.
Cydney Something Dec 2018
I want to run away
To Mexico
Or Cuba
And sit in bars
And drink myself to death
While telling stories about you
To anyone who will listen
MissingKid Dec 2018
Tequila kisses & ***** thoughts,
Hungover love shines through tired eyelids of mine
Drink, drank, drunk, on liquor, on each other.
Punch drunk love, is not real love.

I know you're my hangover love.
Hangovers ****. Just like heart break.
Renée Casey Sep 2018
yes, there was tequila, and
yes, the alcohol in my blood is
singing, but
I'm drunk on this weather;
the coolness making
your hands on my skin
that much warmer
the way your
eyes hold mine
as we learn each other
the joy that blooms
in the spot between my eyes
at the touch of your lips
the sound of your laugh
thrumming through
my ribcage,
we lean on each other
giggling because we
couldn't possibly do otherwise
the taste of you
in the morning
the way you call me
beautiful
and mean it
duncan Sep 2018
i am nothing if
not just my mistakes,
with bones.

i will wear a cheap suit
to your dinner party
and hit on your wife
by accident.

sorry.
im just so tired of pretending
id rather just be.
Confident
Sad.
Arrogant.
Alone.

when you are those things
you just are.
and when you want to be
youre just toxic.

i am green.
with poison and absence
of anything someone would call
normal life experience.  
i cant tell *** from tequila
but i will drink them both
if offered.

i thought i found
heaven on the queensway,
it was really just a cable boy,
who wants to make music.
Jo Barber Aug 2018
Limbs wear heavy.
Too much wine
in too short of time.
Even still, I can make a pretty rhyme.

My favorite drink's tequila and lime,
but this'll do just fine.
Eleanor Rigby May 2018
You are Tequila shots
In perfect desperado
Your days heavy and long

Your nights, sudden aislado.

I am wine glasses
In bittersweet nocturno
My days short

My nights, eternal inferno.

You always left those notes:
Fire down our throats.


-- Eleanor
Dev Apr 2018
Midsummer air, without a care
Dressed up to dance all night.

Strangers abound and one with a frown
That I longed to turn upright

"Let's dance and play pool, I'll look like a fool
But right now I really don't care"

He laughed and grinned, a true cardinal sin
And popped his fedora atop my hair.

After awhile, having seen his smile,
I began to really drink.

After not very long I was well and truly gone
And ran upstairs to the sink

Said to him hey, let's not call it a day
I've some tequila upstairs, I think.

After rummaging round, I tumbled down
The stairs and round the corner.

He took one sip, and upon his lip
Lay a smirk, "this is really great water"
This is a memory I will always laugh at. Never try to impress anyone while drunk kiddos.
Gabriel burnS Apr 2018
The salt envies my lips,
jealous of your tongue
when it wants more
longing for yours
craving slow soft moist caress

It melts in the sharedness,
sparkles in our breath,
a crystalline melt of desire
stretching the flavor in timelessness
fusing in sweet a figure of eight
of our tongues’ thirst

It speaks our secret language
teaching new grammar;
it weaves our thoughts in scarves
spilling cool ambrosia,
warm in our veins
... I didn't know there were ways to make the taste of salt last longer and softer... |)
Maddie Fay Apr 2018
“be safe,
get some rest,
text me when you get home.”

i used to love a boy
who never lived to be a man.
i was fourteen years old,
in a psychiatric hospital
after swallowing so many
of my mother's pills
that i couldn't remember
her name.
he told me i'd been crying
and rocking back and forth
for two days.
i told him i was cold.
he gave me his sweater.

“be safe,
get some rest,
text me when you get home.”
things i say so often
they have become more incantation
than conversation,
a protective spell rubbed
river-rock smooth
by worried hands.

i say,
“you look cold, take my jacket.”
i say,
“have you eaten today?”
i say,
“here, drink some water.”

i do not say what i am thinking,
which is,
“baby,
the sharks are circling again,
where is the blood
coming from this time?”

because when i said,
“i love you, stop dying,”
he said,
“go home.”
i said,
“i already am,”
so he killed a fifth of tequila,
cut us both with the bottle,
and passed out in the bathtub.

so when i see the dark fingers
that tug at your bones,
i will not ask you any questions
i don't think you can answer.
tonight,
we will only talk about things
we have words for,
and if that means
all we talk about
is stars,
then i will spend
a lifetime of tuesday nights
talking to you about stars.
and if staying alive means
going away,
then i will buy you a bus ticket
and tell you to never look back.
dragons were not meant to live
pinned under glass and i would
never ask you to be
anything else
to fit comfortably.

and the last day i see you,
i will not say goodbye.
i will not tell you i'm afraid,
i will tell you i love you,
crank up the stereo,
punk rock screaming
at a purple sky,
and i will drive you home
one last time.
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