Touch:
and upon touching,
let a wanton look
dress your skin,
pressing its wants-
as in a gentle grip-
shaping my tongue,
to press tales
of soft request,
and taste the very giving
response of that same skin,
adorned and to touch
its naked candour.

Touching you was like static electricty in a dark room,
a makeshift thunderstorm in your fingers,
you had more noise in you than a little heart could handle;
so you came bursting open:
screaming, hands punching the air and gasping
for sanity; they said if you hear God it's probably purgatory
what would they call it
when I hear the windclap of your hips a sonic boom
and the quiet of your eyes like blood rushing to my head
in an anechoic chamber;
would they call it madness or delusion
or a mix of a little bit of both; could be alcohol,
could be love
because when I lit a match
in your darkness,
it burned the whole house down.

have you ever wonder why I want you?
it doesn't matter
that's why
you don't bother me with your hands
you're naturally interesting
you grab me and tell me that you want to know me
you already know me
but I feel like I don't know you
and I don't own you
we know we are free to leave each other
whenever
whatever happens
you will remain special
but what's in for me?
now I know
now I'm realizing how
"post-love" works
even though after years of "moving on"
you're gone
it's hard to say that those
are literally years
of wondering why
why aren't we together at all
why do we exist without the other
why, why, why?
I still love you, why?
because it doesn't matter

Tell me a story.
Fingers, tongue, lips, eyes, gasps, grins.
No words required.

We all have crowded bookshelves in our heads crammed with texts for every person we know.
They knock about in our skulls, falling off the shelves.
We refer to them again and again, wearing the pages thin.
When you read me wrong, everything that follows is askew.

By Dahlia Grossman-Heinze

Read more at http://the-toast.net/2015/03/05/right-words-say/#HtPOpT5X35dJrL9Z.99

Who can hate a Rose? For when it was younger,
with rows full of petals arose from its slumber.
Awakened to blossom. It's beauty exposed.
I dare not impose, but you can't hate a Rose.

Who hates the Sunflower that shines by the hour?
Though small in her stature, enormous in power.
Humble in appearance but where the wind blows,
The Sunflower goes and the Sunflower grows.

Who can hate a Daisy? Well they must be crazy!
When lost in your smile, I don't try to escape.
Contained in your maze I would gaze in amazement.
This radiant Daisy brightens my Day.

Who can hate a Tulip? Well they must be foolish.
My two lips are silent whenever yours speak,
and I must confess this is more than suggestion
It would be Majestic if these Tulips meet.

I can see every tear you've cried
Up against that cold old wall
Like an ocean in your eyes
Those waves of tears would rise and fall.

On the days you're alone against the world
All the pain and the scars have left you cold
I can see all the fears you faced
All those times you tried to be tough and bold


Through the most lonely days
Ive seen you on that quiet road
Walking without saying a word.
A thousand signs your blank face showed.

When small problems, become extremely big.
When they brought you crumbling to your knees.
When you could'nt express how you felt,
Seen you spend your time sharing thoughts with trees

When nobody notices you
Ignored everything you'd say or do
When a thousand words went unheard
I saw you in that corner, left to rue.

You were never alone
I was and will always be with you
And even if it begins to pour
Will always be there to see you through.

I’ll be right there for you
to hold you when the sky falls down
Ill be there till it all fades away
Will be there to calm your fear and invert your frown.

Never to leave you all alone
Will stay until the sun shines again
Till the brokenness within has healed
And you are freed from all the strain.

When daybreak seems so far away
Will be there holding your hand
Even when the world turns against you
Right by your side I'll stand

you're dangerous
but i like it
loving you
touching you
soaking you in
it's like licking chocolate
off of a knife

you draw blood
and then you dance in it
leaving red footprints
**all over my skin

The garden of blood,
Where bodies and grenades,
drizzle upon the boundaries,
fighting for religion, power, and greed.

The golden glow of Apollo  embraces the heavens,
and reflects upon the Scarlett land turning vermillion,
as the last ray grabs onto the strings of dying ****.
The Grimm taints the field with his presence.

Death whispers with serenity,
as the beat of his heart thumps down to a notch or two.
Memories of loved ones flood his brain with,
nostalgia love and longing.

One last touch. One last glimpse and one last breath.
Promise of honor, hope, and security,
The lifeless body lies in the garden of death and sacrifice,
And returns to ash with nothing left but memories to share.