"cheekbones" poems
Your beauty may birth from shaved legs
red clown lips, gaudy eyeshadow
flimsy black crumbles beneath
your eyelid
You are sexy-sun-kissed;
I am opaque.
Blotches of color
Lighten my smile
cheekbones never as sharp
as your words
Jul 3, 2019
Jul 3, 2019 at 3:18 PM UTC
My eyes waterfall as I watch you walk away,
And my cheekbones form a river as you drift away,
My lips earthquake and tremble as you fall through the cracks,
My hands are vines; grasping; my skin starts to crack,
As I watch you walk away my eyes waterfall,
As you drift away the river breaks and waterfalls.
Aug 31, 2012
Aug 31, 2012 at 7:33 PM UTC
You will always be able to have what you want
Unlimited canvases of soft inner thighs and painted lips, curled hair
I saw into you and found that you will always be content
I saw this in the way you slept
Have you ever looked at someone and thought they were too attractive to ever deserve to be sad
Your cheekbones and chest, your arms and back are better than anything specifically crafted
Your words are sugar
Unbleached but naturally craving
Your voice is one of my favourite things
I don't know if I believe you when you call me beautiful
I should be too embarrassed to write you notes
I prefer your blue eyes to the sea and sky.
I would always choose to look at them over the static nature
Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 3:32 PM UTC
The sunlight winks from behind the umbrella of leaves and mangoes overhead. It tickles your cheekbones like the first, second, thirtieth good morning kiss. Your sandals are worn. A woven basket rests heavy on your hip, in your hands.
Your fingers, slender and worn by the earth, trace the contours of my face the way they search for meaning in a dictionary. Gravity. We inch closer. Have you always had a widow’s peak? Your hand finds it rightful place over my heart. I kiss you for the thirty-first time today. You taste of plantains and milk. You smell of sweat and the sun. My hand relishes in the traces of heat on your cheek.
One mango drops from your possession. Unripe, but soon to be opened up and worshipped as it is meant to be. Your fingers grasp the yellowing heart and press it against my lips. I rest against the trunk and sink my teeth into it. Liquid sunrise trickles down your wrist onto my blouse. The leaves create shadow puppets on the ground, the story of two young fools swaying in the shade of a tree.
Aug 12, 2021
Aug 12, 2021 at 6:32 AM UTC
The grass is speaking
The sound comes tickling me in my ears
just like his voice
When he touches the grass, it slips through
his beautiful fingers and
it touches his fingertips
in such a perfect way
We don't say a word
He lies down in the summer grass
it shapes his perfect body
and strokes his defined cheekbones
It's only him, me
and the speaking grass
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 5:30 PM UTC
There's something with your flashing smile
And I just can't figure it out
Some sadness was hiding between your eyes
But I just can't seem to catch them all
Those bulging cheekbones, glowing bright
They contain some kind of mystery
They blur all the lines
What were you thinking?
How were you yesterday?
Why was I even asking?
It's something I can't put into words
But I just kept moving forward
Hoping someday you'll tell me
Your deepest thoughts and happiness.
Your mystery, it annoys me
It blocks my vision, I can't see
But I love them with all my heart
It's even fine with me if you'll stay
Just another mystery in my mind
Some misery that won't end
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 10:26 AM UTC
Opinions like dough, gruesome and cloying, sticking to the tongue like self righteous peanut butter.
Sitting up for the wrong reasons, though it's difficult to get out of bed alone.
Counting calories like counting the number of eyes that pass over this form.
Glances flitting like shadows on cheekbones that aren't cutting, too rounded.
Running towards expectations on the necessary incline towards beautiful.
Sweat and pounds and £s for form fitting clothes, like sickly scales.
Weight resting on the soles of the right shoe for the right path towards the right body.
Weight lifted, muscles straining like Atlas with the weight of the world's eye view.
Memberships paid for, memberships given to the society of those who fit into society.
Take the leftovers, it's funny because the sight of us does not suggest the leaving of necessity.
Tightening belts until the loopholes leave us love even though we lack what is expected.
Leaving our food and gaining what you want.
Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 6:05 PM UTC
I can't remember the last time I touched your face
But I can feel your cheekbones digging into my mind like the feeling of taking a shovel
hollowing out my own grave to lie in
When was the last time I was able to run my fingers through your hair?
Untangling hair is easy, but I haven't yet found anything
to get out the knots in my stomach
If someone asked me what color your eyes were, I couldn't tell them
But I could explain just how it felt when they looked into mine
Like when you look into the sun and are blinded by its immense beauty, so blinded
you can't see the inevitable damage it inflicts upon every pore
Except I haven't yet found anything to protect myself from your stare
What if my skin burns before you can feel it again
And how will you feel if you're too bright that I can't look anymore?
You might begin to miss the fact that nobody can look at you the way I do
before you even realize I can
And I could tell them how you felt when mine looked into yours
despite the fact that you can't
Because you don't know what it's like to feel something other than your own fear
But I'm not afraid of you anymore, I have no fear
I have some hope you can have, it's been growing for quite some time
And I may have some more strength left, although dealing with you feels like
running to a destination that doesn't exist
I'm tired of being selfish and hogging all the feelings
And I think I'll share
with you
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 9:44 PM UTC
I never did know when to shut my mouth,
So I guess it’s no shock to feel it smarting against your back handed swing,
But to be honest, I bet it hurt you more, does it sting?
Can you feel it in your bones ?
Copper taste against my tongue,
I’m choking on my own blood,
Does my manic laugh horrify you?
This Cheshire smile plastered across my face,
Do my cheekbones slice your knuckles?
That’s going to leave a bruise,
Not that you care,
Twisted my head back by my hair,
My body is peppered in greens, purples, blues,
But with the way you turn your head down you’d think I was the one abusing you,
When you wrap your meaty fingers around my windpipe does it give you pleasure?
What goes through your mind while your holding my life in your hands,
How many of my ribs have you cracked upon your feet,
Only to lick my thighs later like a treat,
One of these days it’ll be my fingers around your neck,
And I won’t stop squeezing till your dead,
Until then use my body to your hearts content,
This dangerous dance,
Like egg shells beneath my soles,
I’m waiting for you to slip on the blood you painstakingly draw from me blow by blow,
And in your own sick way you actually love me,
Convinced the only way to save me is to hurt me,
But I’m not that sick or twisted to believe the words you croke out,
One day very soon it’ll be you who shouts,
Ya I never did know when to shut my mouth,
So I guess it’s no shock to feel it smarting against your back handed swing.
Dec 14, 2018
Dec 14, 2018 at 9:57 AM UTC
letting loose old chains
you and your wry laughter
defeated by the day old machines
of life and their constant clogging
time's hands tear into spring
nail first, peeling off the light constricting canopy
twisting barbwire off delicate skin
strangling you on a couch from hell
wake up to the smell of bourbon
and dead roses - *so pretty
your lashes creating the shadows
on your gaunt cheekbones,* and your name is Soul
Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 1:14 AM UTC
its the small things that
entice me to you
the way your glasses
kiss your cheekbones
the way you blush
when I cant
contain my stare
the way
your
voice is deeper than the pacific
and you are
as tall
as the leaning tower
I love how you
are scared of spiders
because I am too
I love that bone that gently emerges
when you
play violin
first chair
but that bone
entices me
almost as much as your smile
because you
fill the sum of your parts
with music
Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 6:44 PM UTC
let me lay my palms
in that sunken space
between the contours of
your jawline and cheekbones.
let my fingers hide itself
within the secrets of
your jet black hair.
let me draw you close
and closer until
my face fits perfectly in the mold of yours.
it's alright to cry.
maybe your tears will wash the
doubts
hiding between your
lines and creases and the
fear
exuding from your pores.
let my eyes fathom
the depths of yours.
i am sure that hope and wonder
are just there sleeping beneath
and
until they awaken
and rise above the waters,
i will
look at you,
watch over you.
i will
embrace you
until your head
stills its throbbing,
until your skin
regains its glow and warmth
i will.
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 7:20 AM UTC
I looked into my grandpa's eyes
In my daughter's face disguised
My son's hands now strong indeed
Just like my dad's I see.
Temperament like calm currents flow
From generations long ago
Eyes hazel gold so beautiful
Passed to me ... ages old
Grandma gave her that tenacity
And there's Meema's willful personality
My son took Peepa's tender heart
That feels the pain of another's lot
High cheekbones a dead give away
Of Comanche heritage displayed
Blonde hair like one we never knew
His life cut off way too soon
Deep poetic waters flow
Music locked inside us rose
From history past revealed today
Sweet sung lullabies relayed.
Unknown tears that flowed from souls
Pain and hardship we'll never know
What did it take to bring us here
What suffering did they volunteer
Archives of history living in me
Within me the keys to great mysteries
Treasures buried deep inside my soul
Tapestries of lives sewn together as a whole
Fragments of you, pieces of me
Weaving together delicate filigrees
Illustrious building rise from the grave
Living forever through endless age
Jul 6, 2012
Jul 6, 2012 at 6:21 PM UTC
Just for a moment
I was a time traveler
Nicotine, coffee beans
Trudging through the Ardennes
Running down some cobblestone road
I still don’t know where it goes
Just for a moment
I was a woman
A slightly distorted version of myself
Strong cheekbones petite nose
What are those?
Just for a moment
Seventy-three years ago
A machine gun in my hand
Making my last stand
Just for a moment
I was truly myself
Something I’ve never felt
My soul is crying out
Apr 3, 2018
Apr 3, 2018 at 3:46 AM UTC
I can remember the first time I laid
My eyes upon the love of my life, Lucia.
Her skin was so fair, like flaxen;
Like a shade of summer sunlight.
Her eyes were like blue sapphires.
Her cheekbones were high
And very delicately drawn.
Her chin pointed her mouth
Accented with two deep dimples.
Hers was a delicate, fragile beauty.
She had the elegance of the Queen;
And the purity of the Holy Madonna.
At first I never looked upon her with lust.
I just gazed in the depths of her bottomless
Blue eyes and discovered chivalric impulses
I never knew I had. Protective instincts
I thought had long since died in my childhood.
I esteemed Lucia with such fervor that
Is bestowed on the blessed ****** Mary.
But be warned . . .
For this might happen to you too.
One day your fine the next day
You are sighing at the sound of Lucia's name;
And writing verses of bad poetry in her honor!
Feb 20, 2021
Feb 20, 2021 at 1:32 PM UTC
Let me tell you, I thought I knew love before you came around.
I mean, I’ve written a million love poems.
But the subjects, they’re more or less the same, black ink, red ink, graphite.
And the graphite smudges, and so the picture is never perfect.
I try to re-write it all without mistakes, but I don't have an eraser.
Which is to say that I have commitment issues, but no issue committing, I just commit all the time, to everything.
I've canoodled with paper, but there's never enough space on the page for all the love I have.
Sometimes, I’ll meet a crayon that brings some colour to my life, but they’re just too waxy and impressionable. Too immature, too naive.
Naive.
I’ve never actually been in love.
But you, you are so much different and way hotter.
You bring a spark into my life that I’ve never known.
Baby, you set my world on fire.
I tell myself, blue pen, don’t let this go up in smoke.
Let me tell you. I would do anything to know love.
You see, there isn’t much to me, but I’ve got this way with words and I’ll write you into every poem that’s ever birthed hope in the eyes of star-crossed lovers.
I’ll draw you a map of my heart so when you feel lonely after you’ve been put aside and forgotten in the back of a cupboard, I’ll be there.
I want you.
I want the good things and your sweet embrace of smoke smells really good right now.
I want the good things but I’ll take it all. I’ll take the bad things too.
Fill my lungs with your poison, show me what it’s like to love something so much it kills you.
Teach me how to give all of myself to someone just so they are satisfied, even if it leaves me crushed on the cement.
Let me become addicted to you.
My whole life is written in ink and I can’t escape the mistakes I’ve made so if you’ll have me, here I am.
I can’t guarantee that I’ll be right for you, who knows what you write with but I will be here.
Let me tell you, I will still love you after watching you kiss the lips of every person that craves your taste.
I will still love you after you steal the oxygen out of helpless gasps and sunken cheekbones.
I will still love you after your temper sets forests ablaze.
I will still love you when you suffocate me in your fumes, leaving me choking on everything I should have said to you.
I will still love you when you burn out and your ember softens against a pillow of ash, and your smell, your taste, your everything lingers in the air like a nostalgic dream that I never want to wake up from.
Let me tell you, I am forever.
I am infinite and I can create and write anything you want, even if it’s just prose on a piece of paper or a picture of the moon on nights when you’re the only good left in the world.
I can be anything you want, and if that is someone that will love you because they want to, and not because they have to, then I will be that.
I won’t quit you.
I can’t.
Nov 19, 2018
Nov 19, 2018 at 2:36 PM UTC
Antigone, the heroine.
I am proud for you,
With your high cheekbones
And your straight spine
And your low, ringing voice.
I am proud for you,
With tears in my eyes-
"Antigone, the heroine,"
He said, holding an exquisite, strong-featured mask
With delicate fingers,
And I saw your face in its sharp lines,
And I thought,
"It's true.
How saved I feel,
Knowing you."
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 12:55 PM UTC
And now, the sickness presents itself on my face.
It arrives in the form of two dark circles,
The color of a stranger’s shadow,
Which linger beneath eyes
That have seen too little of the world.
It arrives in the form of skin so sallow,
Of cheekbones so sunken,
Of a mouth too tired to open
And say all the words I wish held more meaning.
And I long for sleep,
I ache for sleep.
As the hours pass,
My limbs become as weak as my will.
If I only had an enemy lesser than consciousness,
I could have won by now.
But every time I envision the sweet escape
Of unconsciousness,
My broken-record-mind violently hurls me back
Into my abandoned realm of reality.
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 8:23 PM UTC
The headdress danced in the sun
On the Indian's hollow
And eyeless skull.
It was framed in feathers
Brightly-colored serpents in the
Salty air flames licking at
Dancing and ***** bare feet.
Dark-skinned, tall, high cheekbones
And solemn eyes full of
Wisdom--he surveys the
Badlands, Moses's rigid face
Blank and silent in a
Heatwave desert.
Beyond the teepees and the
Black bonfire smoke and
The buffalo rhythm, the plateau has
Risen, bleached bones
Litter the plains as a constant
Reminder.
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 2:44 PM UTC
what happens when you are so in love with a thought you could never dream.
not like being on a timeout, or friend zoned.
like wishful thinking of a perfect scene, or being.
Can most of us say that we ever truly fell in love at first sight, i can.
i can tell you how the sun shines for the birds and blooms. i can tell you how the diamonds are hand painted into the night sky and even have their own stories.
i can tell you all the angles of the prisms, in the colors of a rainbow.
i can describe in perfect detail sculpted cheekbones and a smile so warm everything
melts inside.
i can say how my heart aches to even be known. in the world, in the universe,
in the front of someone's mind. not just known but really, and truly known by something, anything, anyone.
i can tell you that my soul aches for more...
i can tell you how my life essence is tied to more.....
after everything so far.
i can also tell you that i doubt if anybody even knows my name.
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 2:03 AM UTC