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Time sits still in a dream, my skin stays lucid, quiet… too quiet. Like a body paused between moments, breath held as if waking would ruin it. Sometimes I am a movie: still frames stitching words into pictures, pictures dissolving into dreams… And these dreams— feel more real than anything I’ve lived awake. I am a romantic flick— but I’ve been more romantically involved to my fears; Dressed in soft persuasion, they linger close— whispering reasons not to try. I entertain them… let them sit too near: an affair with hesitation, that feels safer than stepping outside. We flirt with endings; death in the distance, dressed in quiet certainty; and we dress our doubts in reason— reasonable doubts, tailored thoughts, fitted just right— but what is reasonable doubt when doubt keeps rewriting the script? A reason to doubt. I can’t deny these dreams, the way they sit quiet… but alive— resting in my chest like a heartbeat waiting to be heard. Do you hear me in these words?
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May 1
May 1, 2026 at 5:48 PM UTC
OddOdysseyPoet
Lucid in Stillness
Time sits still in a dream, my skin stays lucid, quiet… too quiet. Like a body paused between moments, breath held as if waking would ruin it. Sometimes I am a movie: still frames stitching words into pictures, pictures dissolving into dreams… And these dreams— feel more real than anything I’ve lived awake. I am a romantic flick— but I’ve been more romantically involved to my fears; Dressed in soft persuasion, they linger close— whispering reasons not to try. I entertain them… let them sit too near: an affair with hesitation, that feels safer than stepping outside. We flirt with endings; death in the distance, dressed in quiet certainty; and we dress our doubts in reason— reasonable doubts, tailored thoughts, fitted just right— but what is reasonable doubt when doubt keeps rewriting the script? A reason to doubt. I can’t deny these dreams, the way they sit quiet… but alive— resting in my chest like a heartbeat waiting to be heard. Do you hear me in these words?
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Your skin is made of glass— cut by a tear that  rolls down your cheek, splitting the good and the wicked parts... You kissed two versions of me... as we all live switching roles— _mirror for mirror,_ mouth for mouth. And when a lover kisses, you kiss back like a reflex, when they get close enough, part of your character becomes theirs— and it loudly reflects.... I breathe when you breathe; I’m so close, I forget whose lungs I’m in. Like a spoon of cinnamon, just a taste of you burns — always so hard to swallow, but I do... And our days spent—have me so spent; spending myself into you, sending everything I’ve got. All of my kisses—_are sent_ All your heat— _passionate scent_ And somehow that scent gives me nosebleeds... That’s the kind of passion you leave in the air. The first time in the morning, I kiss you like it’s the last time— because it could be... Sugar lips— enough to last a time; pull a little closer, let me drown in your stare —  I want to see what’s lurking in the shadows of your eyes— could be your wild side. __Might be mine.__ I take you late nights, for some extras you come like a few sides—and I measure you with my eyes... You're such a grand size; I can’t take it anymore— the closer we get, the thinner it feels; the glass— it cracks the further we grow apart.
0
Jun 19, 2025
Jun 19, 2025 at 4:57 AM UTC
OddOdysseyPoet
💔 Fragile Passion
Your skin is made of glass— cut by a tear that  rolls down your cheek, splitting the good and the wicked parts... You kissed two versions of me... as we all live switching roles— _mirror for mirror,_ mouth for mouth. And when a lover kisses, you kiss back like a reflex, when they get close enough, part of your character becomes theirs— and it loudly reflects.... I breathe when you breathe; I’m so close, I forget whose lungs I’m in. Like a spoon of cinnamon, just a taste of you burns — always so hard to swallow, but I do... And our days spent—have me so spent; spending myself into you, sending everything I’ve got. All of my kisses—_are sent_ All your heat— _passionate scent_ And somehow that scent gives me nosebleeds... That’s the kind of passion you leave in the air. The first time in the morning, I kiss you like it’s the last time— because it could be... Sugar lips— enough to last a time; pull a little closer, let me drown in your stare —  I want to see what’s lurking in the shadows of your eyes— could be your wild side. __Might be mine.__ I take you late nights, for some extras you come like a few sides—and I measure you with my eyes... You're such a grand size; I can’t take it anymore— the closer we get, the thinner it feels; the glass— it cracks the further we grow apart.
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