#maui - Hello Poetry

Three years later, I didn't realize- how long it’d been since that terrifying surprise… I shot out of the hotel slide, you said hi- We talked a bit, and barely realised, I didn't see straight through your eyes- that piercing blue that I’d later despise. You led me up to the top floor- walked around, and I tried to small talk some more. One word answers, boredom in your eyes- till you brought me to a hallway, and we sat down inside. You kissed me, and touched me, and I told you no- that all I wanted was a friend, and this isn't how I wanted it to go. I cried, and I shook, and I was frozen in place- and instead of listening, you captured me with your lips embrace. Silence down the elevator, till it was crowded in a rush, and you slipped out the door in a hush. I got in trouble, because for over forty five minutes I was gone- and to think three years later, the memories lasted too long.

0

Mar 31

Mar 31, 2026 at 6:35 AM UTC

Sabrinandstuff

Three Years Later (TW: SA)

Three years later, I didn't realize- how long it’d been since that terrifying surprise… I shot out of the hotel slide, you said hi- We talked a bit, and barely realised, I didn't see straight through your eyes- that piercing blue that I’d later despise. You led me up to the top floor- walked around, and I tried to small talk some more. One word answers, boredom in your eyes- till you brought me to a hallway, and we sat down inside. You kissed me, and touched me, and I told you no- that all I wanted was a friend, and this isn't how I wanted it to go. I cried, and I shook, and I was frozen in place- and instead of listening, you captured me with your lips embrace. Silence down the elevator, till it was crowded in a rush, and you slipped out the door in a hush. I got in trouble, because for over forty five minutes I was gone- and to think three years later, the memories lasted too long.

18

The light of the Maui moon The venom of your bite Lit me inside like fire Infecting my every inch Caressing my sunburnt shoulders Your hands seeking warmth and softness My hands in your hair and around you Connected and captivated Your tongue painted vivid pictures My back lifted off of our blanket Sand all around under starlight The nature of you and me Emotional ecstasy beaming Sweat and delirious want The ocean crashing closer and closer Moisture thick in the air I’ll never forget the energy That flowed so electric between us I wanted you minute by hour To be yours naked under the moon

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Sep 1, 2021

Sep 1, 2021 at 11:52 PM UTC

tara-antonini

Under the moon

The light of the Maui moon The venom of your bite Lit me inside like fire Infecting my every inch Caressing my sunburnt shoulders Your hands seeking warmth and softness My hands in your hair and around you Connected and captivated Your tongue painted vivid pictures My back lifted off of our blanket Sand all around under starlight The nature of you and me Emotional ecstasy beaming Sweat and delirious want The ocean crashing closer and closer Moisture thick in the air I’ll never forget the energy That flowed so electric between us I wanted you minute by hour To be yours naked under the moon

20

What could be more stupid that Continental traffic? Hawaiian traffic....

0

Feb 25, 2019

Feb 25, 2019 at 4:52 PM UTC

TemporalFugue

Just when you thought.... (10w)

What could be more stupid that Continental traffic? Hawaiian traffic....

2

His hands are long, calloused and inviting. Scars tell stories, scattered across his knuckles. He has one hand cradled in the other, tapping and rubbing his palm with his fingers. His mind is a jungle: heavy, sticky, lush, challenging to navigate, surrounded by undecayed green and unobstructed sea. “Are you anxious?” His hands are moving rapidly, yellow parrotbills flitting in and out of the tall tree trunks and violet, epiphytic orchids of his mind. Turning to face me, he stretches his lips into a smile. He assures me that he is fine, but he doesn’t see any birds.

0

Jun 5, 2015

Jun 5, 2015 at 12:20 PM UTC

rebeccawolohan

Epiphyte

His hands are long, calloused and inviting. Scars tell stories, scattered across his knuckles. He has one hand cradled in the other, tapping and rubbing his palm with his fingers. His mind is a jungle: heavy, sticky, lush, challenging to navigate, surrounded by undecayed green and unobstructed sea. “Are you anxious?” His hands are moving rapidly, yellow parrotbills flitting in and out of the tall tree trunks and violet, epiphytic orchids of his mind. Turning to face me, he stretches his lips into a smile. He assures me that he is fine, but he doesn’t see any birds.

23