#shoulders
I’ll walk up to you, barely soft-footed
At the back…
Don’t turn round! I beg you! Don’t move!
For God’s sake!
I’ll nuzzle my wet forehead
Into your back.
I’ll put my hands on your shoulders.
They’ll press pack.
I’ll stick to you all over!
With whole body!
Even if they’re down on me and think,
It’s *****
I love you greedily, endlessly! Whole,
Not half!
Asking nothing instead, recklessly ruining
Myself!
Jun 27, 2025
Jun 27, 2025 at 2:58 PM UTC
Let’s dance in our half-light room,
To our melody, you and me.
I have no evening dress and you also haven’t .
But I just ask you, dance with me.
You are so shy right now. It’s so sweet.
Come to me closer.I’m trembling whole.
Take my hand, and come nearer.
I’ll smile and won't say any words at all.
We’ll be circling at the edge of the Universe
In our room, where half-light is.
We’ll be silent just to dissolved
In our love. Two hearts’re in time with.
I'm gently placing my hands on your shoulders.
They are so dear, my own ones!
Let us dance. It's our evening,
Our dance under stars at our love.
Jun 11, 2025
Jun 11, 2025 at 5:29 PM UTC
on my shoulders rests
the whole world it's not heavy
i am a rock dream
Apr 23, 2025
Apr 23, 2025 at 9:29 PM UTC
Spoken first, particular last
With a mightier introduction, ahead
Since sincerity, since seclusion, so fast...
Has the voice of a beautiful angel, awoken to lead...
Meetings of the mind
Continue in the voice, meager times
Hope and surmisal, can be so kind...
Letting a lost promise, become strength's trying...
Survival's prophecy, of the fittest
Where in, stirs of shared conscience
Is the can't, the cope of truth, a senses test...
Adage over communed liberty, overtly presence...
A tale of two liberty's
Shown a calling, a creed to instinct, due
Know a keep, beyond which is civility...
Ready an eye, of comprehension is anarchy's you...
Salt to salt, spice to spice
Where, out to dance among intuition's stars
Has the new voice, of now in love twice...
The rue of simplicity, the risk of summation, by far...
Oct 6, 2024
Oct 6, 2024 at 11:22 PM UTC
(Cheritas)
1)
At 4am, serenity surrenders to the rooster.
Early risers snap from their slumber,
thinking, the world is on their shoulders.
Eyes close...thoughts for the day gather,
strength is renewed...mind gets sharper
while under the lukewarm shower.
:::::::
2)
Aromatic moments stir the cold sleepy air.
there's hot coffee, frittata and fried frankfurters,
day starts with good food, whatever the weather.
Between work and breaks, we count the hours
of an unpredictable day, til 9-5 pressure is over.
coffee, gardening or wine, undo the day's fetters.
:::::::
sally b
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
May 16, 2022
May 16, 2022 at 7:12 PM UTC
they stuff "yes, no matter what" / "you're always wrong" / "what will people say?" / into a flimsy puppet skin / rigidly moving the strings in one direction / whenever someone comes over / they mount the puppet on the wall / proudly showing off their prized creation.
but when their eyes come to a close / the puppet feels scorching strings on its shoulders / it reaches inside / gutted by what it sees / one by one / it examines each phrase / it takes everything out / replaces it with "no" / "I am not always wrong or right" / "what do I say?" / and slowly snips the strings off its shoulders / so it can walk freely.
Apr 14, 2022
Apr 14, 2022 at 9:22 PM UTC
my eyes were downcast,
never meeting my reflection,
my body shrunk into itself
when shame embraced me.
I straightened my shoulders,
and shame got out of the way.
I kept my arms out, forming a bubble
that shame could never, ever break.
and once I did that,
I greeted the mirror,
and my reflection smiled
for the first time.
Apr 20, 2021
Apr 20, 2021 at 1:09 AM UTC
Stress is so heavy
On my shoulders and my mind
Weighing thoughts down
Nov 16, 2020
Nov 16, 2020 at 10:11 PM UTC
I did not mean to make mistakes
Feel defeated at each turn
Getting weighed down by missed opportunities
Heaviest those which will not return
Thinking back to simpler times
I miss smiles we couldn't control
Wishing it could be that easy again
But it's hard when we are not quite whole
Each day weakens my tired shoulders
Vision clouded by permanent haze
Walking in circles
Bones aching with fear
Just trying to get out of this maze
Oct 4, 2020
Oct 4, 2020 at 12:47 PM UTC
How do broad shoulders
bare the weight of what
we carry to the grave,
and how do we gauge
the weight of
what never was?
They say we simply
need to share
to speak,
but I know not one man
that can shine a torch
on his own demon,
let alone name It.
So They start to circle
as bones no longer
Creak but Crack
and broad shoulders start
learn the pain of growing older
and like demons
make for
fine friends.
If
the eyes are the window
through which we can look
into the soul,
Then let words serve
as a souls outstretched arms
and when we look in let us see
that in yours are a shield,
and mine a sword,
Then let you block and bash
as I swing and slash
that not one more man may fall
and broad shoulders need bare
nothing at all.
Jul 17, 2020
Jul 17, 2020 at 5:48 PM UTC
I just want to let go
of all the weight on my shoulders.
Forget the past and all my problems,
so I can throw away the pain.
I just want to be free from it.
I want to let go of it all.
Forget the past,
forget the pain,
that all my problems have caused me.
To let them go,
as I say goodbye.
May 31, 2020
May 31, 2020 at 2:52 PM UTC
_I want to fall into myself - to leave should’s, must’s,
and need to be’s scattered inconsequentially in my wake.
I want to dive deeply - to loosen my shoulders,
relax my arms, and slacken my griping fingers.
I want to uncoil my imagination - to revel in a crystal night sky,
a cool breeze, and a pink moon rising.
I want to meet the nomad - solitary, suspended in a sky-borne
playa, and blazing a trail to infinity._
May 9, 2020
May 9, 2020 at 6:06 PM UTC
But I always forget to tell her
and I tell her that too
and she asks why I forget
reply comes easy
it just a wayfaring, stepping stone
on the way to my
kissing your neck,
and thus overlooked,
but always the first thing I see...
Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 7:58 AM UTC
I miss you in ways I'm still learning to articulate
like maybe the sea misses it's purity
or your sweater misses the way my shoulders held it
the grass misses the sun's light when night falls
and in the same way the dirt on the ground wonders if it will ever feel warmth again
I miss you as though you're never coming back
Apr 12, 2020
Apr 12, 2020 at 5:33 PM UTC
Tethered upon my shoulders,
loose threads keeping me
from being decapitated
from
mundane consequences.
But,
What would happen If
I'd held my breath letting all the
air out.
deflated meanings of life,
freedom..
Apr 10, 2020
Apr 10, 2020 at 6:25 PM UTC
Have you seen
It looked like a dangerous scene
In heavens it is written as a sin
Look over
They are deeds look unclean
Your shoulders *****
Your profile unworthy
Look over
What they started is over
But they are not through
With you
Look over your shoulders
Oct 6, 2019
Oct 6, 2019 at 2:01 AM UTC
Somewhere in a casket,
Random in my ransacked room,never opened.
I have your silhouettes stored,
Those which I presume a man would never behold.
I imagine your shoulders broad,
Splendid as a bridge across my glee,over which my eyes could be driven.
While I could be soaked in your chest,
For you be so taller.
Your skin being tight and thick,
Such as it already feels to be bugging in.
Your kurta being loose weighed down,
Revealing the sweated collar bones,and much of the rest.
Your complexion could melt upon me,
Wallowing under the sheets.
Your caustics could potentially outshine mine,
Up to the brink, your douchebaggery could shine.
You may sing anything, Ghazals or even hums,
Your baritone could lull me to sleep,with the heft and flatness of it,with some added tunes.
Our towns could be kilometers apart,or the residents even for light years,
Might be the same for our creeds.
Your breath could be a bower,
To the desert of mine.
Your eyes being shrunk crescent moon,
With the lashes too dense,but sight like an arrow piercing.
Your poetry could define,
And for being poet from you I wouldn't envy.
Your resilience could be better than mine,
And your adamant nature,suffice to repeat an act a million times,to achieve the desired.
Unlike me an ergophile,
You could draw a better parallel line.
You were allowed to smoke,
For it, I have an affinity untold.
Your profession be any,
Your passion be vehement,I promise then, to find you in graphite and mullar and heard in Mozart's.
Your hands masculine,with the veins bulged,
And circlets and totem wrapped,red and orange around.
Skies be your preferred roof
Under the rainy sky,the sharing of petrichor shall feel sanctified.
Your gales be a crescendo
Of delight.
Your age could be more to mine,
But things could be divine.
Mar 25, 2019
Mar 25, 2019 at 1:02 PM UTC
Rather have 2 drunken angels on my shoulders
Than
2 sober demons.
Feb 4, 2019
Feb 4, 2019 at 4:49 PM UTC
somehow i had started to bleed
my wrists and their scars were open
pouring into the river
eyes cry red drops of blood
falling down my cheek, lips, and chin
yet i can't feel a thing
if anything the regret lifts from my shoulders and sets me free
but i still feel the little bit of blood stuck in my one side of my heart
that i can never seem to get rid of
and the other half never seems to fill back up
so i wait
and wait
until it's a full river of blood
and
then
i
jump
Nov 4, 2018
Nov 4, 2018 at 2:16 PM UTC