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angel dust Jan 6
i yearn to know
                  what you are
             thinking.

      i can sense some of you
but
      it isn’t enough anymore


i like the way your knuckles
         and
               palms
expand
           and
                 contract
                 when you speak

                                             the way your
                               eyes grow when
                    you ask me
         something

the way you run your fingers
through your hair
before you tell a story

                        i want to know more of you...

yet
             i can’t help but wonder
how close should i allow myself?

                                        something about you
                      pulls me in

you are
  the moon
i am
     the ocean

a force,
       undeniable        
                powerful
                         magnetic
                                 hypnotic

my body and mind have
collapsed
        into you


                        and i need
   your authentic, organic, uninhibited
                         thoughts

the unknown entices me
                   and
         simultaneously
                              freezes me in my tracks.
Carlo C Gomez Dec 2019
Along a trickling stream,
there's a hushed whereabouts
she likes to routinely gather
her thoughts from, before
assigning her task
to bathing amongst
the shadows.

Today's reflections vastly
withdrew, untwining
such musings,
as a playful breeze
whispered unto her
of an unbeknownst admirer's
dedication.

And so avidly fixed it was
upon the arched swell of
her lower back,
she quite shivered.
But be it a pleasurable fear,
she allowed him such liberties,
and stepped into the light.
CarterCreator Dec 2017
Green, the dream-giver.
Through thickest smoke: clarity,
creativity.
A cheeky little haiku about enjoying life and its many recreations
K Balachandran Jan 2016
It's not the rain
that makes her
wet this time, again
conveying it
to him without
any dillydallying,
revealing her
intentions in
such plain terms
with a sign
language
invented, all
by herself,
leaves the mark
of the genius on this
woman, deeply
in love and lusting
her man,plain and simple.
***, robust uppermost
in the mind.prompts
yes, bold she is,
she takes things
in her hands at times.

She needs to stamp
her nature
unequivocally,
and she does it in style.
Mark Lecuona Nov 2014
This is what it is
An alternate reality
Except you already made the choice
Without knowing
Because the poetry is there
Not a dream
But a life
Open minded
Without pre-conception
Or norms
In the rain
Without an umbrella
In the dark
Without a light
In the sky
Without wings
Inside
Or out
Without need
A shadow
Without its body
This is what it is
Willing
Relaxed
Changing
Without a past
Melting candles
Wax covered glass
Exploding rigidity
Morals
Without judgment
Freedom
Without harm
Sought out
If you dare
Exposing
Trusting
This is what it is
An x-ray
Transparent
Without fear
Or agenda
Sincere
Fully formed
Integrated
Yet unique
Communal
Yet individual
Experimental
Excess
In the now
Blooming
Hopeful
Expecting
Smiling
This is what it is
It is ready
Not waiting
Beginning
This is what it is
Nothing else
But everything too
Every possibility
In love
Pleasant
Happy
This is what it is
Timeless
Though it may be short
Because now you know about it
What is
Was
Undefined
Uninhibited
Natural
Without affectation
Or pretension
This is what it really was
Until they tried to recreate it
Without being it
Or feeling it
This is what it was
A river flowing
But not to the sea
Instead
Inside of me
All for an instant
Just to say wow
And it's gone
Because now we know
What it was
Instead of what it is
It is only
When it is
Perfect
This is the second cousin to this one:

http://hellopoetry.com/poem/909116/the-soothing-mind/
Wide Eyes Jul 2014
The first line iced with hope; straight from the heart.
Melody striving to impress; the sound of a fresh start,
The world would hear the latent pain- only they listened closely.
And maybe in those happy lyrics, they would see the irony.

No, never with their minds; they only listened with their ears.
Only heard her 'happy' melody; never her unspoken fears.
Sung too many times, her chorus had lost its charm.
'Encore. Encore. It can't possibly do you any harm.'

The winds yelled cruelly, the clouds roared with fury and might.
Trials and tribulations; the universe always ready to pick a fight.
There was no exit from this world- this battlefield of horror,
Where soldiers trudged unarmed, yet unscathed never.

Nostalgia struck; breaking through her unfortified mind.
The prettiest of smiles on her lips; it was time to rewind.
There was no audience; not a soul around to stare.
Singing on the road sans inhibition, she had not a care.
A song for a life.

— The End —