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uv Apr 2022
If a pen could relay all my thoughts
All those tiny speckles and threads that get often lost
My eye would like to describe the tinest details
And my hand would want to draw all its artistic tales

If my heart could realy what it thinks
All those flutters, its strongest strings
My beats would tell those feelings,to share
And my touch would make the world watch and stare.
Odd Odyssey Poet Mar 2022
Fair;
as the skins
of solid ice,
her cold shivers; to a loving
touch.
A whisper of beauty;
only heard by
the eyes
gazing on her.
Zywa Mar 2022
I'm out of the bath,

the night wind dries me, somewhere --


a laughing squirrel.
"bewegingslijnen" - 9 ("motion lines" - 9, 2017, Rozalie Hirs)

Collection "Skin-contact"
Ila Mar 2022
When you do an action enough
Your body naturally remembers it

My hands still remember the trace of your face
Moving to your lips, a soft outline

My eyes remember the way it felt to divert the attention you had so pleasantly given me

My mouth remembers the way I spoke your name
The laughs we shared together

And in a way, my tongue remembers yours
Learned ways on how to pleasure and love

My body remembers the way you touch it
Innocent touches brought to my face
Passionate touches went to a different place

Muscle memory shows us the past
Things we might’ve forgotten had it not caught after us
Your lasting touch still burns on me
It singes my memory

Until now my muscle memory bugs me about you
Oh how I would love to be touched again by you
The thing is, I saw you recently and we held each other. First of many or last of us?
Anais Vionet Jan 2022
I think of you often.
In the morning, late at night,
but those thoughts go unvoiced,
the mortal touch goes unfelt.

It’s easier to keep to myself,
to avert my gaze deliberately.
It’s safer to keep ravenous.
It’s simpler to bamboozle with silence.
BLT word of the day challenge: bamboozle: "to deceive, trick, or confuse."
JKirin Jan 2022
Thick smoke and wild fire
my heart only knows.
I’m lost in desire,
consumed by this lust.
I hear no reason,
just the roaring blaze.
Guide me through this maze…
Your sure touch, your groans—
for you, my heart burns.
about passion
Sanchari Ghosh Jan 2022
Phantom hands on my earth
Exploring crevices deep within
Phantom eyes on my lanes
Phantom fingers creeping in.

Phantom kisses and phantom breath
On my neck, on my breast
Phantom bite marks on my fields
Planting weeds on my chest.

Phantom laughters, phantom curses
I open my mouth, phantom screams
My earth slumbers in a phantom home
With true nightmares, phantom dreams.
This one goes out to the tortured souls out there. I know it's not easy to forget unwanted touch. Stay strong. 💪
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