"cloudlight" poems - Hello Poetry

Ooo! Wee! Ya got it on my armpit and hair from my belly, I think you sings it from an egg the push and pull, the truth and dare rain-bead pearled in cloudlight bed was it something I said? Or touched? All my ex liked to talk about is *** and wild intricacies like wow, buddy I'm right here kinda spunky and funny but his receptacle and receptacle-ees aren't that interesting to me

0

May 10, 2018

May 10, 2018 at 8:16 PM UTC

lauraaaaa

ooooweeeee

Ooo! Wee! Ya got it on my armpit and hair from my belly, I think you sings it from an egg the push and pull, the truth and dare rain-bead pearled in cloudlight bed was it something I said? Or touched? All my ex liked to talk about is *** and wild intricacies like wow, buddy I'm right here kinda spunky and funny but his receptacle and receptacle-ees aren't that interesting to me

11

when i first saw him he was wearing untied boots without socks sauntering across a hilly grass field to calypso music playing in the background or my imagination i was so overtaken by his spirit when he brought me home that i succumbed to drowsiness for three days curled simply into his armpit and danced upon the galaxy when i awoke he was massaging my feet checking my reflexes for sun damage and soothed my soft bruises with a milk plate he kisses me in the morning with enthusiasm and we share a room for breakfast as he teases me with ecstasy eyes and i'm no longer nervous around strangers last night i danced across his bedsheets he giggled and rolled his eyes at me as i stood with the light of the sunset shining behind my ears his rhinestone eyes locked into mine for more than a moment and my knees went weak my fragile hips collapsed reclining into his chest like a middle eastern pillow i think his sweaty neck is delicious as i sing to him through a vibraphone in the magical kitchen licking his skin clean i'm bathing him in a sunbeam stretched across the tile beneath the bay window although i'll never understand why he leaves or where he goes i know he'll always return to me as the sun grows cold and the white moon begins to weep her new lust onto the blooms in the front garden and in the meantime i keep myself warm wrapped in a ball of yarn talking in circles to myself spinning and catching strands of cloudlight in my unsure hands when i finally see him in the driveway at the sky's edge picking flowers for me the confusion melts away and the pain from my wonky leg becomes suddenly forgettable as i watch him putting on clothes in the morning just before dawn or towelling off after a long day away my eyes play with him and i let him know how i feel with my body aroused merely by his tone of voice nudging him with my cheeks on the tight spots of his ankles he is beautiful and strong full of compassion and i'm so afraid of being alone again i'll do anything to squeeze him and keep him so i scratch his back every morning at 5am exploring the sharpness of his shoulder blades to remind him of the things we can do together and to make sure he's still alive

0

Jun 26, 2015

Jun 26, 2015 at 8:33 PM UTC

david-badgerow

he gave me a name

when i first saw him he was wearing untied boots without socks sauntering across a hilly grass field to calypso music playing in the background or my imagination i was so overtaken by his spirit when he brought me home that i succumbed to drowsiness for three days curled simply into his armpit and danced upon the galaxy when i awoke he was massaging my feet checking my reflexes for sun damage and soothed my soft bruises with a milk plate he kisses me in the morning with enthusiasm and we share a room for breakfast as he teases me with ecstasy eyes and i'm no longer nervous around strangers last night i danced across his bedsheets he giggled and rolled his eyes at me as i stood with the light of the sunset shining behind my ears his rhinestone eyes locked into mine for more than a moment and my knees went weak my fragile hips collapsed reclining into his chest like a middle eastern pillow i think his sweaty neck is delicious as i sing to him through a vibraphone in the magical kitchen licking his skin clean i'm bathing him in a sunbeam stretched across the tile beneath the bay window although i'll never understand why he leaves or where he goes i know he'll always return to me as the sun grows cold and the white moon begins to weep her new lust onto the blooms in the front garden and in the meantime i keep myself warm wrapped in a ball of yarn talking in circles to myself spinning and catching strands of cloudlight in my unsure hands when i finally see him in the driveway at the sky's edge picking flowers for me the confusion melts away and the pain from my wonky leg becomes suddenly forgettable as i watch him putting on clothes in the morning just before dawn or towelling off after a long day away my eyes play with him and i let him know how i feel with my body aroused merely by his tone of voice nudging him with my cheeks on the tight spots of his ankles he is beautiful and strong full of compassion and i'm so afraid of being alone again i'll do anything to squeeze him and keep him so i scratch his back every morning at 5am exploring the sharpness of his shoulder blades to remind him of the things we can do together and to make sure he's still alive

62

Here I wait. The daily purgatory continues trains speed through the underground lips neutral eyes half open shoe untied girl three seats ahead brown hair green eyes gone no words sealed doors cloudlight sheds through the tunnel's end buildings reflect off glass tie my shoe stand up rush down stairs girl three stations behind brown hair green eyes on the quiet elevator fifth floor tired yawn half past six the daily purgatory continues eyes half open while the trains speed through the underground. Here I wait.

0

Mar 19, 2015

Mar 19, 2015 at 9:00 PM UTC

connor-j

Furor

Here I wait. The daily purgatory continues trains speed through the underground lips neutral eyes half open shoe untied girl three seats ahead brown hair green eyes gone no words sealed doors cloudlight sheds through the tunnel's end buildings reflect off glass tie my shoe stand up rush down stairs girl three stations behind brown hair green eyes on the quiet elevator fifth floor tired yawn half past six the daily purgatory continues eyes half open while the trains speed through the underground. Here I wait.

30

the trees hum in slow green syllables, and the wind— soft as breath against sleeping skin— slips between the spaces we leave open. cloudlight spills across your shoulders, a whisper of morning in hues of mist and mint, and somewhere, the world forgets its weight. a petal trembles on the surface of the pond— not sinking, not floating, just… waiting. you don’t speak. you don’t have to. the silence fits like moss in the shape of your name. everything softens: the hours, the outlines, the ache you thought would stay forever. here, time is water. you are the shore.

0

Apr 10, 2025

Apr 10, 2025 at 10:58 PM UTC

poetriesgrave

when the sky forgets to end

the trees hum in slow green syllables, and the wind— soft as breath against sleeping skin— slips between the spaces we leave open. cloudlight spills across your shoulders, a whisper of morning in hues of mist and mint, and somewhere, the world forgets its weight. a petal trembles on the surface of the pond— not sinking, not floating, just… waiting. you don’t speak. you don’t have to. the silence fits like moss in the shape of your name. everything softens: the hours, the outlines, the ache you thought would stay forever. here, time is water. you are the shore.

21