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幽玄 Jun 2018
To what her words were softly spoken,
Weren’t they heard from the pulling ceiling?
It had no way to carry her softly upon shaken ground
he held onto what she last felt then,
past his hearing the searing heart reveled
In the last whimper of sadness
Gone was her feeling
tears had dripped over her face..
..Fallen from his grasp the black veil blew upward
he witnessed the blinds closing, her eyes watching
Overheard with great loudness she was deaf
Silence hurried the rush toward the floors liberation  
a sunlit evening wilted dry in prosperity..
In a timely fashion she was not heard anymore nor seen
The extraordinary pain I couldn’t understand then
If only..
She no longer knows where to go..
She’s gone unnoticed..
I can’t feel her presence anymore
yes, we’ll see another once again
From a pain stricken moment
Left in vespertine
Along those painless places
Where all that lingers high above the ambience
Will be your very childlike presence
Shown upon in your own exuberant smile
Thenceforth into tomorrow
Farewell till then
I have but one thing to say, please be kind to others as you would like others to be toward you.
And another thing, leap forward out of your comfort zone to help someone from leaping off the marked ledge of ‘enough’. It happens too often and I could say I know the reasons why, for others for their sake if only I could take on their pain. complicated is life huh.

—seeing her fall through hopelessly murmuring what would be her final words to the man striving to hold onto her pleading for her to stay within his grasp, she simply didn’t want to hold on anymore, tired by life’s hard trials. So am I. isn’t everyone
Destiny Odeh Oct 2014
I write poems about beauty;
Your name is on every line.
And how your pretty little fingers
Were made to perfectly fit into mine.

I write songs about perfection;
Your name echoes all through.
And how this hellish life on earth
Seems so heavenly with you.

I try to form perfect rhymes,
But to what mere words can I rhyme thee?
For 12 lines are too few to put into words
How much you mean to me.
Grey May 2016
When she held me, I felt like an earthquake,
shrapnel cutting quick to the bone.
I’m disaster, an unknown
kind of danger is the most dangerous

When he held me, I felt like a riptide,
all control ran out the door.
With the *** and cappuccinos
I felt out of place in my new home

When she held me, I felt disgusting,
every move my own betrayal.
Yes, she hurt like a gunshot
but I did this to myself

When he held me, I felt strange,
like I should give my whole self.
He never asked, I’m thankful.
I don’t want to ruin everything else

When she held me, I felt like a secret,
like I was something small and wild.
In a room of screaming children,
we were something invincible

He never held me, but that’s alright.
Someone tell him I understand.
Take it slow, like we’re new friends.
I’m alive for once

No one touch me, I don’t want it.
Stop breathing down my neck.
My throat fills with *****,
But the hands never rest

No one touch me, leave me alone.
Stop pressing on my back.
There are thumbprints on my wrist bones
and handprints on my thighs

Don’t touch me when you aren’t here.
So many years have passed.
Is it trauma? I don’t care.
The filthy feeling always lasts

Don’t touch me when you aren’t here.
Nobody ever has to know.
When you’re sitting by your lonesome
Nobody cares, you’re on your own

Nobody cares, you’re on your own
Clay Feet Jan 2015
Lovely mornings, evenings, nights our hearts took flight
Laughing ceased as sighs increased.

Wafts of sensual sweet smells rose.
Bodies, curved in writhing poses glowed.

Cares lost in arousing touch, lingering fingers longed for
Secrets, shared in sacred sighs and wanton lies.

Arching union quivered and quaked.

I whispered then and will again
Stilettos are not made for walking,

Their soul purpose, freeing our rising desires,
Feeding rapturous tinglings of sensual ecstasy.
Edited 02/01/2015
Francie Lynch Dec 2018
I know whose toes
Are curled and peeking out below:
Beneath their nose,
Under lips,
Lower than their waist and hips;
Past their knees and their shins-
Toes they’ll use to count to ten.
Better yet,
With our twins,
They’ll count to twenty to begin,
Then move to forty without linger,
Counting on each other’s fingers.
Toes and fingers, fingers and toes,
Twenty wigglers they’ve come to know,
With twenty fingers to catch and throw.
For now we’ll rhyme toes off to market,
And play Pat-a-Cake
With Ophelia and Brigid.
Ophelia and Brigid, eight months. Granddaughters.
Either you end up
In my poems
Of heartbreaks,
Sadness and misfortune
Or you end up beside me
Filling the gaps between
My fingers.
Olga Valerevna Apr 2014
You carried me for many months and thus became my world
My hands are shaped like yours because I am your little girl
I could've let you go if you had said that's what you wish
But every word I heard you speak was opposite of this
I saw the life you thought you lost and held it close for you
Believe me when I say that's what I knew I had to do
I look at you the same today as I did even then
Before I ever breathed the air of everywhere you'd been
And there are times when all I need to do is go inside
To let the warmth of who you are wash over like a tide
The closer that I come to you the less I feel alone
I guess it's true what people say - some people feel like home
for my mother who carried me so I could carry her
I pull up your number
Lucky digits
If I hit it
Will I strike out
Pressing send
Its a gamble
I'm in shambles
Come on baby
Let me win the lotto

the moon light above your skin
your edges moving
making my head spin
the taste
the smell
all new
but felt so familiar
like I've been there before
your body
your hair between my fingers
you touch everything so blue
but my body
is crimson like fire

[and my eyes turned black like I'd known all your secrets]
Olga Valerevna Dec 2016
I spend my time meandering the halls of other lives
and yield with some discretion to the questions, "how and why"
although my understanding may be limited somehow
I'm not afraid to fall apart in someone else's now
my blood is made of seekers who have tasted life and death
and fervently laid doubt as bare as every single breath
"my hands are still in working," said a voice I came to know
a part of me as much as every petal on a rose
I bloom inside a garden that the sun will never leave
I'm here until this world is not the place I'm meant to be
where the sun will rest but always rise
Kevin Dec 2018
the touch of your violet fingers
gives me an idea

how it would feel
to suddenly embrace
the red curvature of yours
Susanna Apr 2018
I was too young and too smart
To operate under the illusion that I was capable of love.
But his fingers were so long and slender.
The way they wrapped around the back of my hand.
His palm was soft and smooth.
So cool,
And not at all sweaty
Compared to the rest of the gym.
I never felt butterflies in my stomach.
I never wanted to let go.
mila splawska Jul 11
your fingers
          like straight sugar
                      felt good at first
                                but the taste lingers
                                         a little bit to long
                                                  you do not realize you
                                                         are doing something wrong
i fall so sick
       a little too sweet
             - i never said
you could touch me
Bastet Nov 2018
There they are.
Lined up, one by one.
Standing tall, perfectly ordered, not a hair's width out of line.
They're strong, still. They're the strongest in the world, refusing to abandon their formation with a finality I just can't argue with.
They seem unmovable, so certain in their stance;
and so gentle.
Not even a whisper of tension controls them;
they stand with ease,
and the reassuring practice of time.

Then I look at mine.
Shaking, fluttering.
They can't seem to find their place, scrambling from spot to spot with desperation.
They seem like they can't stand still, slouching and fidgeting, and certainly not getting along with each other.
I can't seem to find even a hint of confidence when I see their hunched shoulders.

But they're not ashamed, and neither am I.
I look back at those weathered masters.
Like little soldiers, lined up and ready,
watching my band of new recruits struggle to find their place.
They're so calm, and so experienced, and I believe that some day, mine will be just like theirs.
So I take up my instrument again, watching my teacher.
My fingers are hopeful, and so am I.
Meredith Ann Jan 16
As I look
towards my future
I see all of the order
assumed color
and I know I will not be with my own.

I hope that I can find a place,
before it eats me alive.
marianne Nov 2018
I wake and it’s here,
in my shallow breath
the cold rising—
fear is all fingers, cold boney fingers coiling
squeeze lungs twisting muscles
greedy morning glory fingers reach
and wring

I fear so much—
being too cold, too hot, too fat
too hungry
too broken, too wrong, too right
giving too little, too much
missing the point
I fear 2028
rich white men
on top
waters rising, babies crying
in closets
I fear death, but pain more, I fear death
but leaving more
heights and small spaces, I fear losing
my freedom and the freedom I’ve lost
I only have one pair of feet

I fear the future

I fear the future fear imagines—
weeping mothers stinking waters
broken earth, apocalyptic
winners and losers, alone
in brambles or white rooms
passed over by

       My eyes tune in
to shifting light

Fear is all cold fingers and high drama—
cracking knuckles, it writes its own story
always the same score, sly rascal
and grandiose,
end to its beginning

       Feet find the cold morning floor
my fingers know the way to kettle and pen
I’ll write a different ending
Because I'd rather live in hope than in fear.
Scoot Sep 2018
Your hands
are The Same size as mine
yet they
can Hold so much more
than My feeble instruments;
my arms however
can lift your Heavy Body
higher than the twisting tendrils of Strong vine
stretching themselves up and out into the sky
on a ten foot trellis
your hands Tight they grab my arms then
we lift
Together They Melt into a wild new assist
hands hold fingers touch brains know hearts must
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