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I hoped that he would love me,
And he has kissed my mouth,
But I am like a stricken bird
That cannot reach the south.

For tho’ I know he loves me,
To-night my heart is sad;
His kiss was not so wonderful
As all the dreams I had.
 Mar 2015 The Haywire
NV
Untitled
 Mar 2015 The Haywire
NV
BUT NOBODY TOLD ME THE FUNERAL NEVER ENDS.

IT'S BEEN ELEVEN YEARS NOW, AND THE CASKET'S STILL LOWERING.

*
"LEAVE ME HERE MOM. LEAVE ME HERE. I'M DEAD TOO."
Hello, Alex. You look so good today. Like you did yesterday. Your smile is still as cute, and your eyes as shiny and hipnotizing. I want a hug now, and many kisses later. It's a demand.

She wrote these words in my notebook, in the middle of class.
I smiled and looked at her.
Sent her a kiss.
She blushed.

Next class we sat next to each other.
She was tired; stayed up late doing homework.
She would rest her head on my shoulder, and hold my hand.
I could feel the *butterflies
in my stomach, and my heart racing.

After school we both went to her house.
She put on her pijamas, and got into bed.
I layed next to her, holding her in my arms.
She looked so calm and pretty.
I started giving her little kisses on her cheek, on her forehead, on her neck, on her lips.

Oh, her sweet lips!
She gives the most sweetest, tender and loving kisses I've ever had.
Her kisses are full of passion and care.

I could hardly breathe.
She has the ability to make me lose my breath.
My heart was racing, and she could feel it.
We kissed and held each other tight, marveled at how our bodies fit perfectly with one another.

My hands found their way under her blouse, drawing her slim silhouette with my fingertips.
Running down her chest to her stomach.
From her hips to her thighs.
Her skin was so soft it felt like velvet under my fingers.
She started doing the same to me.
Her fingers traced a distinct line going from my chest to my belt, and further below.

Her lips were still upon mine.
My breath still missing.

Her top was off.
My shirt also gone.
Her arms around me.
My arms around her.

Hands going under the clothes.
Heavy breathing.
Muffled moaning.
No more clothes.

Her body couldn't be any more perfect than it already is.
I was lost kissing her tasty neck, biting slightly, while I grasped her small, perky *******.
Her skin was so warm and cozy.
I couldn't get enough of her.

Me touching her.
Her touching me.
My breath was nowhere to be found.
I felt ecstatic.
I was in heaven.

After all was done, we both laid there, right next to each other.
She was still in my arms as we both tried to catch our breaths back.
We looked at each other in the eyes.
We smiled at each other and kissed one more time.

*I could've died in that moment.
He’s no musician.
He doesn't make melodies through violin and guitar strings.
Yet he composed, haunting ballads in dramatic tempos,
Rhyming every lyric,
Harmonizing, making it dance in a musical euphony.

He’s no seamster.
Yet he cuts and he traces,
plain words and printed phrases;
Then he sews and he weaves it skilfully,
into a lovely concrete poetry.

He’s no painter.
He just has a palette of pigmented letters,
splashing colorful lines on his blank canvass.
A blast of contained evocative memories,
Streaking and shading mixtures of kaleidoscopic imagery.

He’s no storyteller.
Yet from him, I heard the most romantic tales-
One, of the moon and its lover sea.
Reciprocating shy glances, whispering I love you’s,
while kissing behind the sprawling mountains.
Though the dawn will come, they do not fear.
For after the majestic tribal sun leaves his stage,
There’ll the lovers be once again reunited.

He's no poet.**
Yet he writes--
stanzas and verses.
And oh! it revives,
every strand of emotion,
every sense of intuition,
Inside me.
A lyrical perception,
Sheer perfection,
Arousing perpetual reactions,
From me.
I am not good at this. I just want to express my pure gratitude, appreciation and awe for you.

"I am no poet. Never thought of myself as one. Just a guy dabbling clumsily in words"
Yet even, everything you do amaze me.


Thank you all wonderful people on Hello Poetry. I just realized this moment that this poem was featured as Daily poem yesterday.  I have never imagined any of my work will be posted as daily. Thank you all for the hearts, re-post,share, comments and messages. You really made my heart and soul so happy. :)
And most of all, thanks to the man who inspire me to write this one. :)
(04.14.2015)
The mind commits suicide long before the body does
She said: “Hi...
I‘m from a different
planet! ”

I said: “******...
...so am I! ”

It’s so hard to
meet genuine
Earthlings

...these days! ”
Title comes from jocular chat up line at an Irish disco in the '70's. The rest of the poem exists in the playful banter and retort that endeared us to each other. We both obviously came from the good planet Humour!
f
   a
l
    l
i
  n
g

d
o
w
n

the rabbit

   o   l   e
h             h
o             e
l              l
  e   h   o
Is my appearance uneasy?
Does my darkness expose—darkened spirits,
And a vessel in need of mending?
Have my scarlet relatives,
Evoked only the most cherished desires?
—blinding you from my deaths.
When I whither,
I turn from crimson reds,
To the blackest of blacks,
I was not meant to live forever.
 Mar 2015 The Haywire
Cathryona
She walks down the hallway with her dress flowing
Her smile as sweet as candy, poison
dripping
The smell of love, *** and joy- lingering
But behind her smile is a ghost
And in her is a demon
A fallen angel in disguise
A human.
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