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#partnership
As my body writes with yours I feel the depths of the underworld more than the heights of Heaven that your body survived before it met mine. I can tell when the horrors plague your mind because you don't look at me when I penetrate you kissing the pain away on every inch of your skin, whispering sweet things to your ear. So I reverse the roles putting you on top and let you vent everything out to me. Hell hath no fury than your scorn when you grip my throat, sinking your teeth into my flesh, sketching lines on my back, my chest, and my stomach. When I reach to cup your ******* you catch my hands pressing them into mattress as you have me watch the beautiful sight of you climbing the highest point of your ****** without letting me finish. I don't complain. I just want you to feel good. When I'm inside you, I close my eyes telling myself to focus only on you working my hips between your delicious thighs, careful not to lose the momentum while questions based on doubt hang over my head like a dark cloud. I understand you have your moments when you're not in the mood for me to please you. At the same time I have to wonder. Is my love, my touch repulsive? Inadequate? Is there someone else I should be aware of? When I'm inside you, do you see any of those men before me? Those with and without your invitation? You bring back to Earth asking me if I'm okay. Your hands brushing against my face like a gentle breeze in the fall. I want to tell you that I am afraid of losing you. But I don't know how to be honest. I just flip you over slapping your cheeks pink as a rose, pulling your hair, gripping your hips pounding myself into you as you claw at the sheets. You tell me to say I love you. Being rich would be so easy for every time I say how much I do. To make sure you get the hint, I turn you on your back holding your legs in the air hitting that spot that makes you break the third commandment. Looking at you in this position I imagine all the men who've been in your bed had you just like this. Laid down. But it ends with me. I pick you up. Keeping the pieces of puzzle together with your legs around my waist carrying your frame against the wall, pushing us both over the edge, breaking down the barriers holding us back from each other. After all those times we rocked the boat against the current, our ship starts sinking. I deprive my lungs of air for you to breathe losing myself at sea. And you pull me up to the surface kissing me back to life. A reminder that our love is why we're still here. We lie side by side. Your flesh and my flesh. Staring at each other as if it's our first meeting. Silent, bare, exhausted. The bedroom smelling like us. And in that moment I know with all my being I got nowhere else to go. Because where I belong is right here. Not inside you, but with you. And I don't ever want to leave.
0
Apr 9
Apr 9, 2026 at 9:30 PM UTC
akariki
When I'm Inside You
As my body writes with yours I feel the depths of the underworld more than the heights of Heaven that your body survived before it met mine. I can tell when the horrors plague your mind because you don't look at me when I penetrate you kissing the pain away on every inch of your skin, whispering sweet things to your ear. So I reverse the roles putting you on top and let you vent everything out to me. Hell hath no fury than your scorn when you grip my throat, sinking your teeth into my flesh, sketching lines on my back, my chest, and my stomach. When I reach to cup your ******* you catch my hands pressing them into mattress as you have me watch the beautiful sight of you climbing the highest point of your ****** without letting me finish. I don't complain. I just want you to feel good. When I'm inside you, I close my eyes telling myself to focus only on you working my hips between your delicious thighs, careful not to lose the momentum while questions based on doubt hang over my head like a dark cloud. I understand you have your moments when you're not in the mood for me to please you. At the same time I have to wonder. Is my love, my touch repulsive? Inadequate? Is there someone else I should be aware of? When I'm inside you, do you see any of those men before me? Those with and without your invitation? You bring back to Earth asking me if I'm okay. Your hands brushing against my face like a gentle breeze in the fall. I want to tell you that I am afraid of losing you. But I don't know how to be honest. I just flip you over slapping your cheeks pink as a rose, pulling your hair, gripping your hips pounding myself into you as you claw at the sheets. You tell me to say I love you. Being rich would be so easy for every time I say how much I do. To make sure you get the hint, I turn you on your back holding your legs in the air hitting that spot that makes you break the third commandment. Looking at you in this position I imagine all the men who've been in your bed had you just like this. Laid down. But it ends with me. I pick you up. Keeping the pieces of puzzle together with your legs around my waist carrying your frame against the wall, pushing us both over the edge, breaking down the barriers holding us back from each other. After all those times we rocked the boat against the current, our ship starts sinking. I deprive my lungs of air for you to breathe losing myself at sea. And you pull me up to the surface kissing me back to life. A reminder that our love is why we're still here. We lie side by side. Your flesh and my flesh. Staring at each other as if it's our first meeting. Silent, bare, exhausted. The bedroom smelling like us. And in that moment I know with all my being I got nowhere else to go. Because where I belong is right here. Not inside you, but with you. And I don't ever want to leave.
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98
I'll write poetry about the stars in your eyes, because they give me unwavering joy. I'll write sonnets about the love you give me, just to return it to you in black ink. I'll stage whole plays and scripts in my sleepless mind, so I don't collapse beneath the butterflies you set loose in me. You're my inspiration — my spark — the awakening of something luminous and ravishing within me. You are my muse, the reason I reach into the heavens and pull down angelic words solely meant for you. You are the pulse of my veins, the flow of life that keeps my thoughts alive to become poetry. I have existed before you — but never so alive. I have loved before you — but never this passionately. I have written before you — but never with a heart that beats for two. And like that awakening: you rewrote the way I exist.
0
Feb 25
Feb 25, 2026 at 11:26 PM UTC
Kameron
My Reason To Write.
I'll write poetry about the stars in your eyes, because they give me unwavering joy. I'll write sonnets about the love you give me, just to return it to you in black ink. I'll stage whole plays and scripts in my sleepless mind, so I don't collapse beneath the butterflies you set loose in me. You're my inspiration — my spark — the awakening of something luminous and ravishing within me. You are my muse, the reason I reach into the heavens and pull down angelic words solely meant for you. You are the pulse of my veins, the flow of life that keeps my thoughts alive to become poetry. I have existed before you — but never so alive. I have loved before you — but never this passionately. I have written before you — but never with a heart that beats for two. And like that awakening: you rewrote the way I exist.
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10
If only we had rent I would not yearn Nor spur your tones Promising in the mourn I’d fear not your voice Weakly in the naive Fearing the sorrows Paid upon the eave Worrisome sills Lent, and built of rage Defiant and tired Yet, protecting us the same If only I had time Longing upon your sighs I’d speak against your laments Given only in goodbye
0
Jan 31
Jan 31, 2026 at 6:05 PM UTC
kevin-8
If Only
If only we had rent I would not yearn Nor spur your tones Promising in the mourn I’d fear not your voice Weakly in the naive Fearing the sorrows Paid upon the eave Worrisome sills Lent, and built of rage Defiant and tired Yet, protecting us the same If only I had time Longing upon your sighs I’d speak against your laments Given only in goodbye
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16
I try on lives like thrift store jackets, like I’m always checking the mirror for proof I can still become someone new. Photojournalist, lifting other people’s pain into a frame and calling it work. Navy EOD diver, learning to be calm in places that should have broken me. Triathlete, turning my body into a stopwatch. Software engineer, building logic like a house I could hide inside. Executive, speaking fluent urgency. Mountain biker, chasing speed like a confession. Mountain rescuer, running straight at the worst moment of someone else’s life. Poet, But we all know poetry is cheating. Next, sailor. Because the horizon keeps flirting with me. Because I keep mistaking restlessness for a destination. And the list will go on because the world keeps offering me costumes and I keep believing the right one will finally fit. I was a husband, somewhere in that mess. Like a photo I can’t find until the house is already burning. Now I want to be a partner. A real partner. Not a checklist. Not a paycheck. Not a strong back in a room full of heavy things. I want to be the person you don’t have to schedule. I want to be the place you don’t have to earn. Someone who exists with you, and in you, while the calendar bangs on the door, while the phone screams, while the world tries to auction off our attention in five second increments. I don’t know how to keep wearing all these lives without leaving the truest part of me on the floor like clothes I stepped out of. But I know this. I choose you the way I never chose any title. I choose you without trying you on. I’m committed to returning, to learning how to stay.
0
Jan 5
Jan 5, 2026 at 7:44 PM UTC
PoetryIsCheating
Without Trying You On
I try on lives like thrift store jackets, like I’m always checking the mirror for proof I can still become someone new. Photojournalist, lifting other people’s pain into a frame and calling it work. Navy EOD diver, learning to be calm in places that should have broken me. Triathlete, turning my body into a stopwatch. Software engineer, building logic like a house I could hide inside. Executive, speaking fluent urgency. Mountain biker, chasing speed like a confession. Mountain rescuer, running straight at the worst moment of someone else’s life. Poet, But we all know poetry is cheating. Next, sailor. Because the horizon keeps flirting with me. Because I keep mistaking restlessness for a destination. And the list will go on because the world keeps offering me costumes and I keep believing the right one will finally fit. I was a husband, somewhere in that mess. Like a photo I can’t find until the house is already burning. Now I want to be a partner. A real partner. Not a checklist. Not a paycheck. Not a strong back in a room full of heavy things. I want to be the person you don’t have to schedule. I want to be the place you don’t have to earn. Someone who exists with you, and in you, while the calendar bangs on the door, while the phone screams, while the world tries to auction off our attention in five second increments. I don’t know how to keep wearing all these lives without leaving the truest part of me on the floor like clothes I stepped out of. But I know this. I choose you the way I never chose any title. I choose you without trying you on. I’m committed to returning, to learning how to stay.
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63
Rely on me, you say, like it is as simple as leaning. Like my body has always been a place people could rest without falling through. No, I say. Rely on yourself. Because if you rely on me you might learn my oldest religion: the prayer that sounds like please do not need me. It is not that I do not love you. It is that I love you so hard it scares me into survival. My fear has a megaphone. It screams: What if I am not enough. What if I make a home and then burn it down by blinking at the wrong time. What if the only thing I am good at is leaving first. I learned to live like a locked door and call it strength. I learned to carry my own darkness and call it freedom. I learned to swallow the words before they could become a promise. And then you show up with your soft insistence, your ******* against my ribs, your face saying, I see the way you flinch from care and I am not here to punish you for it. I would give myself to you. Bleed for you. Lay everything on the table until it looked like a confession. Because the truth is I am brave in the way people get brave when the thing in front of them finally matters more than the fear inside them. You say we should get tattoos that say: Rely on me. And I feel my mouth start to form its familiar no. But you laugh, not cruelly, just accurately. You change it to: Rely on we. Because you know me. Because you know the difference between a rescue and a partnership. Because you are not asking me to be the whole roof. Just a beam. And you, too. And suddenly my body understands a new way to stand: not alone. Not carried. Held, with hands on both sides.
0
Dec 18, 2025
Dec 18, 2025 at 5:08 PM UTC
PoetryIsCheating
Rely on We
Rely on me, you say, like it is as simple as leaning. Like my body has always been a place people could rest without falling through. No, I say. Rely on yourself. Because if you rely on me you might learn my oldest religion: the prayer that sounds like please do not need me. It is not that I do not love you. It is that I love you so hard it scares me into survival. My fear has a megaphone. It screams: What if I am not enough. What if I make a home and then burn it down by blinking at the wrong time. What if the only thing I am good at is leaving first. I learned to live like a locked door and call it strength. I learned to carry my own darkness and call it freedom. I learned to swallow the words before they could become a promise. And then you show up with your soft insistence, your ******* against my ribs, your face saying, I see the way you flinch from care and I am not here to punish you for it. I would give myself to you. Bleed for you. Lay everything on the table until it looked like a confession. Because the truth is I am brave in the way people get brave when the thing in front of them finally matters more than the fear inside them. You say we should get tattoos that say: Rely on me. And I feel my mouth start to form its familiar no. But you laugh, not cruelly, just accurately. You change it to: Rely on we. Because you know me. Because you know the difference between a rescue and a partnership. Because you are not asking me to be the whole roof. Just a beam. And you, too. And suddenly my body understands a new way to stand: not alone. Not carried. Held, with hands on both sides.
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63
We sit closely at the table, Sharing conversations about nothings Full of friends and strangers combined, The band begins to play Your hand grazes mine, You stand up tall to ask I step, stride in gentle procession, Your hand possessed by mine You turn to me, Two equals pressing slightly Eyed but not staring, Hungry but not starving I rest my palm on your broad shoulder, Feeling your familiar fingers tips gently grasping my hip Your body whispers to mine, Pushing it in rhythm I respond to your queuing, Touching your face and lips when wanting Guiding not insisting, Vulnerable and respected Two people working together, Towards a partnership perfected
0
May 31, 2025
May 31, 2025 at 10:13 AM UTC
genevieveish
La Valse (The Waltz)
We sit closely at the table, Sharing conversations about nothings Full of friends and strangers combined, The band begins to play Your hand grazes mine, You stand up tall to ask I step, stride in gentle procession, Your hand possessed by mine You turn to me, Two equals pressing slightly Eyed but not staring, Hungry but not starving I rest my palm on your broad shoulder, Feeling your familiar fingers tips gently grasping my hip Your body whispers to mine, Pushing it in rhythm I respond to your queuing, Touching your face and lips when wanting Guiding not insisting, Vulnerable and respected Two people working together, Towards a partnership perfected
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22
To My Love, We survived. Through the storms, through the silence, through the ache of not being understood we are still here. Not perfect, not untouched, but held. By something greater than both of us. We searched for freedom, both in our own ways, and we didn’t know it then, but the search was the meaning. In that longing, we found God. And in God, we found that we were already whole. The devil tried to break me. Tried to convince me that pain was my portion. But he didn’t see the strength of the Spirit living in me. Or the quiet, stubborn hope that still lives in you. We pour into each other, even when we feel empty. And somehow God fills us back up. We still hope for one another. And that hope? That’s love. That’s grace. That’s us. I believe in who we’re becoming, not by force, not by fixing but by remembering who we already are in Him.
0
Apr 15, 2025
Apr 15, 2025 at 11:55 PM UTC
Resilientinnerhealing
Gods Plan
To My Love, We survived. Through the storms, through the silence, through the ache of not being understood we are still here. Not perfect, not untouched, but held. By something greater than both of us. We searched for freedom, both in our own ways, and we didn’t know it then, but the search was the meaning. In that longing, we found God. And in God, we found that we were already whole. The devil tried to break me. Tried to convince me that pain was my portion. But he didn’t see the strength of the Spirit living in me. Or the quiet, stubborn hope that still lives in you. We pour into each other, even when we feel empty. And somehow God fills us back up. We still hope for one another. And that hope? That’s love. That’s grace. That’s us. I believe in who we’re becoming, not by force, not by fixing but by remembering who we already are in Him.
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9
A flower behind the eye Roots in the skin Seeking water not spoiled by sweat and tears The touch of my lover The softening of thorns for her handling The shade of branches for her slumbering I grow gentle in her arms Under her gaze I grow further from the ground Bloom and flourish and shriek for her A flower behind the eye Torn from it roots Settled in a quiet place Brushed softly behind her ear
0
Apr 4, 2025
Apr 4, 2025 at 11:48 AM UTC
meggi
For a Flower
A flower behind the eye Roots in the skin Seeking water not spoiled by sweat and tears The touch of my lover The softening of thorns for her handling The shade of branches for her slumbering I grow gentle in her arms Under her gaze I grow further from the ground Bloom and flourish and shriek for her A flower behind the eye Torn from it roots Settled in a quiet place Brushed softly behind her ear
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14
I love you, I love you not I love you I love y... Wait a second... If it's not bipartisan Honestly It does not matter how many peddles this flowers got ©2025
0
Jan 22, 2025
Jan 22, 2025 at 3:17 AM UTC
bettsjc187
~•§•~ Two to Tango ~•§•~
I love you, I love you not I love you I love y... Wait a second... If it's not bipartisan Honestly It does not matter how many peddles this flowers got ©2025
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9
Our roots of love have intertwined over the years, anchored deep in the earth of trust, growing stronger with each season. Though storms may rage, our love stands tall, unwavering in the face of time’s passage.
0
Jan 10, 2025
Jan 10, 2025 at 10:26 PM UTC
SoulPhelan_Unbound
Roots of Love
Our roots of love have intertwined over the years, anchored deep in the earth of trust, growing stronger with each season. Though storms may rage, our love stands tall, unwavering in the face of time’s passage.
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5
Side by side, We walk through time’s forest. Your steps lead with confidence, Eyes ahead, charting the way. I trace the map, Trust guiding us into the unknown. We listen— Whispers in the leaves, One deep in thought, The other watching the horizon, Feeling the air shift. When confusion clouds our path, We lean in, Finding solace in each other’s gaze. In frustration, we pause— Our hearts the roots, Trust the steady tree beneath us. The forest thickens, The trail blurs. Hand in hand, We press forward— Each challenge a part of our story, A dance of give and take. Leading, following, Each stumble strengthens us. Doubt does not falter us; Our bond lies in how we work together. Through tangled branches, broken paths, We find joy. Laughter rings— Each clearing a new adventure, Each turn, a discovery. As the sun dips low, Shadows stretch. The journey’s thrill lingers— A promise that, no matter the path, Hand in hand, hearts entwined, We journey on, Forever bound.
0
Jan 2, 2025
Jan 2, 2025 at 7:37 PM UTC
SoulPhelan_Unbound
In The Forest of Us
Side by side, We walk through time’s forest. Your steps lead with confidence, Eyes ahead, charting the way. I trace the map, Trust guiding us into the unknown. We listen— Whispers in the leaves, One deep in thought, The other watching the horizon, Feeling the air shift. When confusion clouds our path, We lean in, Finding solace in each other’s gaze. In frustration, we pause— Our hearts the roots, Trust the steady tree beneath us. The forest thickens, The trail blurs. Hand in hand, We press forward— Each challenge a part of our story, A dance of give and take. Leading, following, Each stumble strengthens us. Doubt does not falter us; Our bond lies in how we work together. Through tangled branches, broken paths, We find joy. Laughter rings— Each clearing a new adventure, Each turn, a discovery. As the sun dips low, Shadows stretch. The journey’s thrill lingers— A promise that, no matter the path, Hand in hand, hearts entwined, We journey on, Forever bound.
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39
The house smells wonderful, Golden and buttery as this morning’s delicious sunrise on our front porch, And your eyes twinkle as I venture a first bite. “Pretty good, right?” It’s a quesadilla and it’s perfect, exactly to my preference. Warmly brown and crisp on the outside, Cold sour cream mingling with too much hot melty cheese and chicken and all the fixins. A real knock out as far as quesadillas go. I smile with my eyes and happily munch, not especially hungry but I know you are. You spoke this into existence, A master of your own love language. In many ways, I am fed. . Ingratitude does not become us; I eat of your hand and rejoice the offering As my brain whispers: “My love, please leave me to myself.” These days I am as two ships passing, So rare an hour is it to shake my own hand, Cull my own thoughts, Breathe my silent breath unaccompanied. Spinning sugar and spinning wheels are my god-given gifts. I use the first to coat my tongue. The second hangs in the air between us. “Better than good,” I say, Moving to rest, To dream my silly dreams, To paint my silly heart across the mercurial landscape of shared memory. I am my best when I end my days like a spoiled Pomeranian: Seated on a cushion Worrying a bone. . The mysterious clicking and clacking of the HVAC tip taps merrily to the rush and whir of the electric heat. The impression of a kiss still lingers on my cheek In the quiet. The house smells wonderful, Golden and buttery as this morning’s delicious sunrise on our front porch. It is a miracle to build a structure with your bare hands that bends without breaking, and supports your weight without shaking.
0
Dec 22, 2024
Dec 22, 2024 at 10:15 PM UTC
elizabeth-kelly
Love is a Front Porch
The house smells wonderful, Golden and buttery as this morning’s delicious sunrise on our front porch, And your eyes twinkle as I venture a first bite. “Pretty good, right?” It’s a quesadilla and it’s perfect, exactly to my preference. Warmly brown and crisp on the outside, Cold sour cream mingling with too much hot melty cheese and chicken and all the fixins. A real knock out as far as quesadillas go. I smile with my eyes and happily munch, not especially hungry but I know you are. You spoke this into existence, A master of your own love language. In many ways, I am fed. . Ingratitude does not become us; I eat of your hand and rejoice the offering As my brain whispers: “My love, please leave me to myself.” These days I am as two ships passing, So rare an hour is it to shake my own hand, Cull my own thoughts, Breathe my silent breath unaccompanied. Spinning sugar and spinning wheels are my god-given gifts. I use the first to coat my tongue. The second hangs in the air between us. “Better than good,” I say, Moving to rest, To dream my silly dreams, To paint my silly heart across the mercurial landscape of shared memory. I am my best when I end my days like a spoiled Pomeranian: Seated on a cushion Worrying a bone. . The mysterious clicking and clacking of the HVAC tip taps merrily to the rush and whir of the electric heat. The impression of a kiss still lingers on my cheek In the quiet. The house smells wonderful, Golden and buttery as this morning’s delicious sunrise on our front porch. It is a miracle to build a structure with your bare hands that bends without breaking, and supports your weight without shaking.
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41
Two marble columns hold up the high temple roof — Lovers holding hands
0
Dec 20, 2024
Dec 20, 2024 at 6:02 PM UTC
jackgroundhog
Senryu temple
Two marble columns hold up the high temple roof — Lovers holding hands
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3
How do I make you see me? How do I step out From behind the one-way mirror? You hear me, But you talk only to yourself through me. How do I make you see me - Not my clothes, or hair, or ******* Not my body, sitting across from you, Empty. Drained by the endless hours of offering my elixir, Hoping that when it is my turn to drink, You will see my thirst... Only you don’t. You can’t. Because no matter how much You gulp down - You are never satiated. Your vessel is riddled with holes, Leaking - With each slurp you take from me. How do I make you see me... Crawling after you, Gasping - Yearning for us both to bathe in the elixir - To soak it in, Together.
0
Nov 19, 2024
Nov 19, 2024 at 12:58 AM UTC
staceface
Thirst
How do I make you see me? How do I step out From behind the one-way mirror? You hear me, But you talk only to yourself through me. How do I make you see me - Not my clothes, or hair, or ******* Not my body, sitting across from you, Empty. Drained by the endless hours of offering my elixir, Hoping that when it is my turn to drink, You will see my thirst... Only you don’t. You can’t. Because no matter how much You gulp down - You are never satiated. Your vessel is riddled with holes, Leaking - With each slurp you take from me. How do I make you see me... Crawling after you, Gasping - Yearning for us both to bathe in the elixir - To soak it in, Together.
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26
In this garden of dreams, our hopes start to bloom, We plan our harvest to each season’s sweet tune. With seeds of intention, we carefully sow, Planting seeds of compassion where love’s rivers flow. We nurture our seedlings, watering with care, Tending to growth with the patience we share. Through sunny days and the gentle rain’s kiss, We learn from each challenge, embracing the bliss. When we say “I’m sorry,” it clears out the weeds, Making space for new growth and meeting our needs. Together, we toil, side by side, as we learn, In the warmth of our love, our hearts brightly burn. With each passing season, new wonders arise, As we cultivate dreams beneath wide-open skies. Now we’ve matured, this love that we have grown, Reaping the sweet fruits of the care that we’ve sown. In this sanctuary where true selves align, Our dreams intertwined like a strong, sturdy vine. Together, we’ll flourish as our garden expands, Creating a haven where love understands. With future horizons bright and clear, We’ll nurture our journey year after year. As time moves forward, hand in hand we stay, Bound by a love that will not fade away. Through life's final chapter, steadfast and true, Our hearts remain one in all that we do. In this eternal garden, forever we'll dwell, A love everlasting; no words can dispel.
0
Nov 13, 2024
Nov 13, 2024 at 8:45 PM UTC
SoulPhelan_Unbound
Cultivating Dreams Together
In this garden of dreams, our hopes start to bloom, We plan our harvest to each season’s sweet tune. With seeds of intention, we carefully sow, Planting seeds of compassion where love’s rivers flow. We nurture our seedlings, watering with care, Tending to growth with the patience we share. Through sunny days and the gentle rain’s kiss, We learn from each challenge, embracing the bliss. When we say “I’m sorry,” it clears out the weeds, Making space for new growth and meeting our needs. Together, we toil, side by side, as we learn, In the warmth of our love, our hearts brightly burn. With each passing season, new wonders arise, As we cultivate dreams beneath wide-open skies. Now we’ve matured, this love that we have grown, Reaping the sweet fruits of the care that we’ve sown. In this sanctuary where true selves align, Our dreams intertwined like a strong, sturdy vine. Together, we’ll flourish as our garden expands, Creating a haven where love understands. With future horizons bright and clear, We’ll nurture our journey year after year. As time moves forward, hand in hand we stay, Bound by a love that will not fade away. Through life's final chapter, steadfast and true, Our hearts remain one in all that we do. In this eternal garden, forever we'll dwell, A love everlasting; no words can dispel.
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28
the world is flown        and i sleep beside you wed  our mossy appetite has become cleaved                                      a sleeve running between us on this bed       a warm hum     the pores  pipe open     intimacy issues forth    traversing the gap   intelligence sliding    slack and froth             like moist candy-floss   icking and tearing our shared dream      our powerful phantom          gussy travellers        ravelling in sheets of smoky sea  grey/green misting of the memory gland gathering up dead celebrity tuning structures to our jubilee re-creation in a vibe theatre we're partners conducting our behaviour                          for a grand flotsam revelry                                           dizzed up and narcotic          no doubt ; we are unreal it is the neon hour... i flicker            feeling the rushing of your warm system          i feel weather speed over our bodies                                striping and refreshing the energy             in the oil light blinking   i see you           scar beauty over the berths' landscape            you turn the body over and illuminate the eyes           you are if to say     "plug back in to our shared motion"            "we could be imperishable"          "i cannot return without my inconsiderate spouse"           you brush my hand which fizzes                                           and i clothe my eyes            re-enter our developing potion                      within   our great mouths feed alike           our dual nature is a shared gratification   within
0
Feb 2, 2023
Feb 2, 2023 at 11:47 AM UTC
neth-jones
jetsam
the world is flown        and i sleep beside you wed  our mossy appetite has become cleaved                                      a sleeve running between us on this bed       a warm hum     the pores  pipe open     intimacy issues forth    traversing the gap   intelligence sliding    slack and froth             like moist candy-floss   icking and tearing our shared dream      our powerful phantom          gussy travellers        ravelling in sheets of smoky sea  grey/green misting of the memory gland gathering up dead celebrity tuning structures to our jubilee re-creation in a vibe theatre we're partners conducting our behaviour                          for a grand flotsam revelry                                           dizzed up and narcotic          no doubt ; we are unreal it is the neon hour... i flicker            feeling the rushing of your warm system          i feel weather speed over our bodies                                striping and refreshing the energy             in the oil light blinking   i see you           scar beauty over the berths' landscape            you turn the body over and illuminate the eyes           you are if to say     "plug back in to our shared motion"            "we could be imperishable"          "i cannot return without my inconsiderate spouse"           you brush my hand which fizzes                                           and i clothe my eyes            re-enter our developing potion                      within   our great mouths feed alike           our dual nature is a shared gratification   within
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36
It is about the self the two prayers at 2.00am longing for permanent maintenance of faith strength and rescue
0
Nov 7, 2022
Nov 7, 2022 at 9:07 PM UTC
bloomer
COMPANY
It is about the self the two prayers at 2.00am longing for permanent maintenance of faith strength and rescue
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6
the thought of you whispers to me in my lonesome moments your stride glides swiftly to me eyes of earthly-tinged emeralds fire-soaked whiskers brush upon me and the slightest rosy sweetness leaves me yearning for you all over again
0
Sep 5, 2022
Sep 5, 2022 at 3:22 AM UTC
rhodochro
the thought of you
the thought of you whispers to me in my lonesome moments your stride glides swiftly to me eyes of earthly-tinged emeralds fire-soaked whiskers brush upon me and the slightest rosy sweetness leaves me yearning for you all over again
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10
I am most easy to find, but forever difficult to discover.
0
May 14, 2022
May 14, 2022 at 12:05 PM UTC
deepeningmoonlight
what am I?
I am most easy to find, but forever difficult to discover.
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2
anything that involves him seems to be wholly acidic; why did I think I could be an alkaline strong enough for this?
0
Feb 8, 2022
Feb 8, 2022 at 10:26 PM UTC
deepeningmoonlight
neutralise
anything that involves him seems to be wholly acidic; why did I think I could be an alkaline strong enough for this?
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4
Needed a friend I wanted to be alone t(w)oo
0
Dec 15, 2020
Dec 15, 2020 at 9:45 AM UTC
lafleurdemonamie
Hk #1
Needed a friend I wanted to be alone t(w)oo
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2