#dumbstruck
Walk around palms up like "what the fuuck?"
Low-quality literature John Travolta, dumbstruck
Lingering havoc of being awestruck by dumb luck
Stuck in the rut felt in the pit of a stomach
Nut up or shut up mukbang, self demise potluck
Lame-duck after lame-duck left to run amuck
Anyone else know what the fuuck?
©2023
Nov 30, 2023
Nov 30, 2023 at 6:25 PM UTC
Once again
Twice too many
I'm ****** by that smile
That boyish grin
Probably just meant
'Hello'
But I better quit this awful dance
Adoring you from afar
I'm starting to hear the soft chime
Of wedding bells
We both know it ain't gonna happen
Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 3:41 PM UTC
In your body I can breathe,
your fragrance,
my exhale,
your voice,
my internal sigh.
The bed is our familiar,
so hard for us to go.
To leave this oasis,
where we fit so mosaic
like cherry blossoms in spring
or rooftops filled with rain.
I hate how vapid I become
as I stargaze at the sun.
Leave me dozy,
laughable at best,
dumbstruck devotion.
You are my only.
Tu es mon amour.
Mar 22, 2017
Mar 22, 2017 at 11:52 AM UTC
War paint I always found unnecessary:
Gloss for manicured lipstick commercial princesses
Not of my kind.
And though I walk with shield, I am without armour:
Ramparts mere cheekbones,
Bare skin impressionable as snow.
Boot-print,
The mark I hated. My characters:
Frail tree rings, exposed to the chill night air.
Gold inlay frozen solid.
The fairly bound dream factory
Lies purple with melancholy.
It’s the world’s bruise. It colours sudden,
Shadowing the other side of the room
Where it paused, rare moth
Lighted upon my dark reflection,
A Mona Lisa dressed in black
And reminiscent of bobby sox.
Beauty without fanfare.
Stuff of woods: we do not glitter.
We don’t call out.
Our tongues are both dumbstruck bells.
Shy rabbits, we fold within ourselves
And sequester our secret pulp.
Oct 4, 2016
Oct 4, 2016 at 7:15 PM UTC