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Jay Apr 12
I usually shy from feeling
Another person against my skin.
I'm fragile and gentle and tormented
My bones are paper-thin.

You, however, are an exception.
I love your sweet caresses.
The love and warmth you give
Pull me from emotional messes.

Though I can't see you now,
Know it you of whom I'm thinking,
Dreaming of the better times
When you've saved my soul from sinking.

Now I'd write the world for you
To simply show the grasp you have
Of my entire beating heart, you see,
I've not withheld myself even half.

The words wouldn't come together,
And I'd ramble on for hours,
Never finding the proper way to tell
How intense I feel love's powers.

I know you've much better things
To do than read more lines
So I guess I'll end this letter here
Until your lips once more graze mine.

Svetoslav Apr 10
Holding her hands ignited flames,
kissing her lips felt like an apricot.
A delicate spark turns into fire
as attachment gave us a purple vision.
jenna Apr 6
i’m not sure
what the statistical probability of me
getting into some terrible accident
that causes me to go deaf and blind would be,
and i’m not sure how to research into it.

so my hypothesis remains,
that it’s probably a very small percent.
maybe it’s bigger than i think it is,
i’m not sure.
i never claimed
to be good at numbers.

but in this possibly
very small or very big percentage
of this reality coming true,
i want to make sure that i have, in advance,
memorized every inch,
every crack,
every hidden part
of you.

i want to touch your hands for hours and remember every curve and dip of your fingerprints,

and i want to kiss your lips for days to ingrain in me their taste and the feeling of your breaths.

i want to lay in the crevice of your neck for weeks, to make sure i have studied your scent,

and i want to rub my fingers through your curls for months, so much so that i could recite this poem, even in the after-death.

i want to feel your cheek against mine for years, so that i am able to describe the warmth of it through nothing but colors and love,

and i hope that i can just spend my whole life with you, learning more everyday that not everything is meant to fall.
just incase.
Spriha Kant Apr 3
I don't wanna touch my lips anywhere on a man's skin.I am rather interested in occupying a neat space in a man's brain.
Grey Apr 1
Your tender words caress my face
and seep into my skin.
Soft soliloquies, quiet rhymes, rhythmic patterns,
they swirl in my mind
and are painted behind my eyelids while I sleep
or as I think of you and smile.
The whisper of your fingertips
reminds me of the brush of your pen
and the tumultuous emotion from each word
brought forth from your mind.
Your poems of love impart a sweet nostalgic ache
for the passion I'd never felt
until your words flooded my thoughts
and allowed deeply seeded flowers to grow into a full bloom.

And I think
maybe it is not you I fell for,
but the sweet, sweet, song you sing.
Started 2/26/2021, finished 4/1/2021
I like the last verse but I don't know how I feel about the rest.
Alexis Mar 29
We've all imagined
Wedding dresses and vails
growing up
losing our pig-tails and overalls
trading them in for
beach waves and crop tops
only for the person in our
to turn into a complete
s t r a n g e r

staring blank faced at a girl you can't recognize anymore
drawing imaginary lines on our bodies with our eyes
cutting away the imperfections with
our hands shaped as

we could look like
the models in the magazines
the actresses on the tv screens
But, society tells us
we can Never be
Never be
That our features will
e n o u g h

Because the girl in the mirror who has lost all hope
can Never amount to
what we have been taught from the time we could
walk and talk
what beautiful is;

We went from carefree children
to teens who are
depressed and anxious
all the time
most of us addicted to Nicotine and Alcohol
our parents tell us to smile and quit with the attitudes
but behind closed doors we criticize ourselves

The little girl in her pigtails
playing with everyone on the playground
so innocent
so pure
get labeled as a racist
in the 6th grade because her skin is white

By the time she enters high school
she knows better than to state an opinion,
the teachers know Best,
never stand up to a man,
he's superior to you,
even when behind the closed doors
he touches you when you say STOP
but you know better than to say something
cause you had to have wanted it,
take it as a compliment,
it just means you're pretty

if you say anything you'll be labeled as a
W h o r e
if you keep quiet it's an invitation for
M o r e

people asking
"why do you flinch at a simple touch?"
how do you explain years of torment to a complete
s t r a n g e r,
you don't, you smile and act dumb

pretty is a vocabulary word to describe anyone
but the girl that is seen in the mirror
because she is
e n o u g h
and she knows that

she has lost friends cause she can't trust them

she changes her style monthly

trying sooo hard just to be
she doesn't remember
the little girl in pigtails,
she doesn't remember
what a real smile looks like,
the pain behind her eyes
c l o u d s
her reality
the voice in her head telling her
"you're eating too much"
"you're an idiot"
"you'll never amount to anything"
and she
s     l     o     w     l    y
fades away
til there is nothing left
to put back together
cause her mind and heart are
s c   a   t t e  r e     d
shes numb and she
thinks, this is what happiness feels like
no more pain
no more criticizing
No, more
pretending to be okay
If you see this note
I want you to know
It's not my fault
If love is starting to show.
So when I flinch at your touch
It isn't because of a crush
You just...made me jump.
When my cheeks go red
After you touch my leg
I'm not flustered, but...just something else instead!
It's just sugar and veins
that make me feel like I'm fizzing
And it's just habit
To hold your hand when I see you
Maybe I'm wrong and I do love you
Is that what I'm supposed to say?
Would that take these thoughts away?
But it's not like there's anything I could do
It's not like just this note would get all my thoughts through.
J Mar 26
I've had
Not ***
Not love-making
Not consensually.
I've been
taken advantage of.
whatever it is you want to call it
I've had it done.
I've been kissed
spit on
spit in
I've been held,
with knives against my throat
guns to my head,
in my mouth
drugs down my throat
barely conscious I've been
I've been in love
I've been heartbroken
I've been touched
let me tell you about the consensually.
I've been kissed in the bathroom, lifting
up against the wall
laughing when our teeth brushed against
one another's
hands fumbling up a skirt
around a throat
fingers tangled in wavy hair.
I've been touched sitting in her lap
outside on a hot day
wearing her hoodie
around children
freshmen year.
I've been touched
multiple times
by him
in band rooms, away from prying eyes
secrets to be kept and wooed over
laying in a dress
during a concert event
head in the lap of my best friend
underwear brushed to the side
fingers thrusting in
and yes, this was consentually.
I've been touched
in the school hallways
every day after school or in between classes
tasted and tasted
he tasted me
I tasted myself.
And in the living room of our best friend's house
even though I told him no
I told him the safe word
he continued.
I say it was consensual because in the end,
I said I loved it.
Don't argue about it.
I wanted it.
and I've been touched
in her pool
heated ever so lovingly
LED lights danced us into the temptation
as did the alcohol on my part
with her lips against my chest
desperate to mark, yet not to show
i mean, hey, my step-dad's homophobic
though I'd love nothing more than to show who I belong to.
We switched a lot, but ultimately I landed in her lap
water licking up my sides,
sending chills to *******
and her fingers hesitating
not daring to touch.
"i'm going to need a yes."
Finally asked.
I nodded eagerly
and she treated me like a piano
perfect notes
though brief I know that I was
drenched in all ways
the chlorine water yes
and of course the obvious.
you see, we were going to do something that night
we had the chance to
I wanted to
she wanted to
In the end,
she took something for her headache
though it was a sort of
similar thing to Nyquil
We were going to.
But we laid in bed
and we molded against each other
and sailed asleep.
I've slept with one person.
My Muse.
But Still, A ******
am I
Maha Mar 24
do fires kiss my skin's senses not when I should be kept back at a spines distance
not when I solicit crimson splashes
from transients that gaze longingly
from a screens distance
but for the aftertaste of tenderness
I often wonder if the inferno that burns in a particular shade of loneliness
could be extinguished with nothing more
than what you call a "hug"
about me
Serendipity Mar 24
I think divorce papers taste like the ash of a ciggratte falling from his lips when he told her the news.

Like whiskey burning firey hot as it slides down the back of your throat,

with bitter sweet tears pooling in with umami ink, the saltiness hitting the tongue like the papers to the floor, a weeping widow who does not suffer from a death but an absence.

I think divorce papers cut up throats like the edge of a chip, swallowing the news over and over again does not seem to make it go down any easier.

I think divorce papers digest like a cheap meal, the kind that you know will give you trouble, but also know is better for you in the end.
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