#forehead
While asleep, I sense you hand
on my forehead.
As a drop of your tears
fall on my cheek,
upon seeing the way I'm sick all day,
this love is worth of
not being well for a thousand years.
Nov 14, 2024
Nov 14, 2024 at 1:01 PM UTC
there must be a use for tears
they’re so free flowing and liberal
aside from the cathartic release of crying
couldn’t we use tears for something
collected tears of emotion for different uses
i don’t believe tears aren’t useful
perhaps i should collect my tears
and anoint my prized possessions in them
when i think of my pain with regard to you
could i collect those tears and touch them to your forehead
could you understand my pain then
would tears become a blessing
a catalyst for true understanding
and when i’m crying from joy
could i put those happy tears on your lips
and could you taste my ecstasy
Dec 12, 2023
Dec 12, 2023 at 5:41 AM UTC
Some breaking
point back,
I spy ya sauntering
as your locomotion
lost, standing upright
been arduous, your
forehead on your
palmar side, like your
eyes can't see
I am pulsing that
you are feeling
not the same,
it might be
a fever,
Wish you quick
recovery
Sep 14, 2020
Sep 14, 2020 at 1:21 PM UTC
She wore a tiara
of pearls
dripping from
her forehead.
As one fell on her tongue,
She licked her lips..
Tastes like love...
Jul 3, 2020
Jul 3, 2020 at 4:15 PM UTC
I've fallen to mapping
the deepest parts of my forehead
again. these days it feels like
I'm climbing the jungle gym of my mind,
clearing away cobwebs and
emptying
dust-covered boxes into my lap,
searching yellowed scrolls and broken crates
for diamonds.
it's not that I feel far from
the present, just as if
I'm swimming through it,
my head the only part of me
above the water.
it's been a little while but
I am still only climbing,
praying, and
scribbling words
on a familiar page.
Feb 20, 2019
Feb 20, 2019 at 2:35 PM UTC
ive worn a brand my entire life
that’s been
stamped across my forehead.
i believe that
everyone can see it,
painted red with little girl blood.
all my life people have taken chunks
from me, and all my life,
i’ve given people chunks.
i believe that maybe if i were different
i would be perfect.
im cruel, and im sorry.
Jun 23, 2018
Jun 23, 2018 at 4:10 AM UTC
it's terribly humid
and this cigarette
is terribly harmful
this life is horrid
it's terribly horrid.
and i terribly die
each time
you kiss my forrid.
-- Eleanor
Jun 23, 2017
Jun 23, 2017 at 5:19 PM UTC
I saw you look over at me
My arm across your chest
Fingers tracing tiredly
I felt the breath you took
It hitched
I saw you pause when you looked
Right before kissing
My forehead
Your chest tightened
My senses were heightened
I and you know it to be true
That kiss means
I love you
Aug 2, 2016
Aug 2, 2016 at 3:22 AM UTC
Listen to what I'm about to tell you,
Because this matter is very important
For it will give you great advantage on
How to write a poem
Put your right hand against your forehead,
Make sure the dorsal surface touches it
Now make a rightward circular motion;
Because your head's been aching for hours
Apply more pressure to your massage
As you squeeze your nape up and down
Then make circular neck motions—to the left; to the right
Whilst you look for the menthol liniment
And now you've found your relief formula;
Which caused you more harm than good
Because your bedroom is a jungle—
Full of mysterious creatures and uncharted places
Now open the lid and pour a little amount
On your left palm, and rub vigorously
With your right hand, and massage gently
Your frontal lobe; apply more if necessary
Now wait just for a couple of minutes
Notice that the heat is starting to permeate;
And your mind begins to take a deep breath
From its calming and soothing effect
And now you're feeling a whole lot better
You're acting like a normal person again
And now you're ready to write your poem
If all else fails, repeat everything from step one
iamthe_avatar ©2015
Jan 29, 2015
Jan 29, 2015 at 11:54 AM UTC
Slowly and soft
Playing, laughing, experimenting
Relaxed and happy
Then passionately and long
Cheeks, lips, jaw, neck, and lips again
Deep and *******
Forehead to the belly button
Behind the neck to bump down
Rubbing nose and cheeks
Pressing lips
Fondling ******* and ****
Cuddling with ears
Embracing eyes, looking shy
Spices of variety
Bare skin
A touch of sensation
Against a wall, on the ground
Or in my hands, over me, into each other
Tightly locked, so soothing
A spider web
Searching hands, unexplored regions
Wet and moist
Taking a break
Doing it all over again
and again
and again
Until
the morning rushes upon us
Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 2:41 PM UTC
You are poetry;
I can see it in the jagged lines that run across your forehead,
I see it in your sad forced smiles-
And your curled fingers with your soul dipped ink dripping down your hand
You are covered in poetry so beautiful
But all you see is a broken girl
With a haunting past of a daddy that abandoned you
And an ex boyfriend who broke your heart
You think 'attempted suicide' is stamped across your forehead
But **** you're the most beautiful thing I've seen
And your body is the most beautiful poetry I've read
Jun 21, 2014
Jun 21, 2014 at 5:42 PM UTC
I look at you
and I see what I saw
3 years ago when we first met
The innocence of young love,
sprouting and reaching it's grasp
pulling you and I both in
But I also see,
that we have aged
And we are not the same as we used to be
I still kiss your forehead when I leave the house
But what's behind that
is nothing compared to what it used to be
If only we could work on ourselves,
maybe then we can spend
the rest of our lives together, happy
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 1:54 AM UTC