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Hg Jun 2018
i fear my spider hands
and the words
they spin to webs

they twist and twine
injecting rhymes
in every word that’s said

they type and type
and type biting venom
from in my head

i stay awake all night
writing till sunrise
stings my bed

i feel arachnophobic
of these fangs
that can’t be fed

but everytime you grip them
you squash them
till their dead

with you holding my hands
I drop my pens and
my distress

with you holding my hands
my spider eyes can
get some rest
©Hg
Nathan Jul 2018
Seductive wayward hands
Like silk, soft to the touch
Travel down her lustrous skin
Southbound too their destination
Lips, neck combine in passion
Warm breath on the neck
Turns into sultry slow kisses
She grips his hair tightly
Her soft moans reverberate in his ear
As his fingers glisten with her lust
cait-cait Jun 2018
im there when you want to
rip out your
hair and scream ,

knees on the floor, your face is
in my hands  .
                          .

there seems to be glass everywhere
you look
and
you're crying ,

you can see it.

i dont know who told you i was dangerous --
but

i can only be so kind .
who has ever thought about how i feel?

when i was little my mom had this vanity that was covered in mirrors and then draped with a cloth, and i have memories of trying to pull the cloth off to see the full thing, and also memories of being on her bed and being able to see myself where there were slits.
Andrew Nov 2017
You're an inspirational exciting jolt
Like an invitational lightning bolt
I'm suddenly shocked by the results
When I am blocked by your revolt

You have my beating heart in your hand
Holding me hostage where I silently stand
Staring at your ****** butcher's cleaver
That morphs me into a landlocked ******

You're a two-hander
Like a sledgehammer
Or a radar jammer
I start to stutter and stammer
When I see your weekly planner
And the lack of my presence
Because I'm incessant
You hold a pencil and an eraser
You delete when I become a tracer
And start to draw a better replacer

You hold the scales of justice
Though I claim you're unfit
You say add that to the list
From the throne where you sit
And there's no avenue for any recourse
When your other hand holds so much force
I must deal with your actions
So I can stay in your faction
For my heart's attraction

I am never right
So we never fight
And we never might
Understand each other
When we're taking cover
From exposing vulnerability
An exploding soul is filling me
Because the cold mist killing steam
Between us until you are only a dream
And my mind starts bursting at the seams
Until there's a monster barely mentally caged
But the bars shake when it is constantly enraged
When your saccharine emotions are cynically staged
My bustling brain will unfortunately always be plagued
By your neutral reactions which I'll never be able to gauge

You hold two hands behind your back
Will it be an attack?
Our two hands should meet
Instead I'm trampled by feet
Mara Aug 2018
worthless

I should hurt less

I'm still loving you
I'm putting stars in my eyes
hearts in my mouth

I'd love to eat you out
but you keep dancing around

I'm no toy to play around with
stop putting me away

we should make out
kiss and don't tell

we should go out
If no one is around

come lay down

my heart feels like a million bubbles exploding
every time I hear your voice

bubble baths in your bathtub
what do you think

should I hold your hand
holding my breath
thomezzz Jun 2018
I've loved many boys
With different colored eyes
But the way I remember them is
By the shape of their hands

The way their thumbs curved
Or how their palms felt against my own
The weight of them on my thighs
Or how they ran through my hair

The times they zipped up my dress
And settled on my shoulders
The moments when they grazed my own
As they handed me my keys

The motion of them as they spoke
And the motionless of them when they were silent
The smoothness of them in the beginning
And the calluses after time had passed

Sometimes, I forget the faces of these boys
Or the way their voice sounded over the phone
But I'll never forget the way it felt
With their hands intertwined in my own
KM Hanslik Jul 2018
Keep your eyes soft and your dreams
up on the highest shelf so you won't take them down too early;
keep everything that you spill in the dark locked
behind your teeth during the day, don't bring it out before dusk;
like secrets we drip over sidewalk cracks
from cotton-candy sticky fingers and leave our names
dissolved under each other's tongues, the warmth of you is keeping me company
as I try to crawl out of my blood again, they told you to leave
a bread-crumb trail in case your heart becomes too watered down by just visiting
to even remember the vacation at all; you carry
kisses on the knuckles of amputated arms,
driving through parking lots with your seatbelts on,
collections of constellations growing
in the bruises on the insides of your thighs, reminders
of salt & the whites of your eyes;

I'll always carry you around
like scuffed knees and the last time I told you "I'm okay",
I wanna press my fingers into you until your skin is melded
with fire and scraps of things that I could never be,
I hope steel rods grow out of your bones and I hope you gather
bruises before you gather dust,
we are all a little lost and lonely but that never stopped
the accumulation of well-spent nights
coughing up new ways to spell my name
(it sounded foreign before you)
leave this on repeat,
we're going in again.
Morgan Mercury Aug 2013
From the beginning
we were born to die.
There is no starting over.
There are no second chances.
With death carved on our skin
how could we live a normal life?

You could run but you'll one day run out of breath.
It's just a game.
You hide your pain and sorrow.
Save it for another day
when everything just falls apart and you can't pick it up.

Medicine and alcohol keeps you awake
As you hunt your demons and monsters.
You could choose to die but then this world would fall apart.
You give others that second chance,
you give them time to run and escape
while you slaughter their monsters,
and **** their demons instead.

You've got blood on your hands
and a soldier's heart.
Your brain is beautiful
just corrupted.
You smile to stay strong
and your humor hides your internal scars.

In the end
you'll look back on your youth
and notice you died a long time ago.
You never had the chance to be happy.
You'll never know the feeling of growing old with your lover
because all your lovers are either buried below your feet,
or somewhere up in the sky with the stars.
It's not that far,
one day you'll be with them.
Then, you'll finally be able to rest your tired hands.
Supernatural
Sam & Dean Winchester
C X Rutledge Dec 2014
These hands that have held you as a wild child in a dream are the same hands that throb to choke you and muffle your screams.
These hands which guided and guarded you down those stretches of hospital halls are now the hands that push you down to fall.
These hands once caressed the jagged, pink, scar where your heart used to lay become the hands that wish to tear it away.
These hand that made sure you fell asleep through all that pain now are the hands that would cut themselves to beat out your brain.
These hands that used to pray for you like a ***** ready to be ****** are clinched in two fist now ready to make the first throw.
These hands that ached for you, fed you,  and tried so ******* hard are just the hands of memories now deep tissue scars.
... These hands.. Would have killed anyone, in dirt and cold blood.. Are now the only hands holding back the rage of my flood.
.. These hands, they still work for you. Even if you're no longer here with me..... These hands, they're still here, waiting... One day.. You'll see.
Saw some one I haven't seen in years..  It just reminded me of how much I gave up for someone in their darkest time in life and how much I mistreated them... Gotta love the holidays :) maybe one day.
Brianna Bushee Jun 2018
My mother used to tell me I'd never find a husband.

Because I had **** hands.

My hands are still ****.

I smile every time I look at our
Interlocked hands.

Because his are **** too.
Nat Lipstadt Mar 2017
oh, these messages, you send,
invitations to a gala, a black tie affair,
but only if willingly pay the exorbitant fare,
your money's no good, you must dare,
find and write the poem hid within

how cold are the carpenter's hands,
the weather, but an added obstacle,
this heat, makes dying different difficult,
the wood bearing cross requires additional nails
and flesh, for the extra load he's bearing,
when it snows blood in Jerusalem

the whole world can transition
when one man dies and another is risen,
where oh where lies then, the juxtaposition?

there is none, for man is man,
his divine spark, embedded,
to his maker's mark, wedded,
neither snow or sun,
can ever, either, extinguish*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
any message you send can and will be turned into a poem
"how cold are the carpenter's hands"... patty m

patty m  Divine intervention
extensions of grace
kiss the doubt from the
blind man's face.

Yet all are blind and deaf
so few left who truly believe
when tricksters smile and
cunningly deceive.
Where is the lamb
who died for man
how cold are the carpenter's hands.
Jerusalem where all roads lead
in winter white your sorrows bleed.
Lie still awhile and mull the words
all creatures big and small wo;; be spared
if on they believe, repent, circumvent the globe
frontal lobe what's in this treasure trove? myrrh and frankincense. stabled now in a manger
of hay, Earth Christmas Day.
Meredith Ann Jan 15
When we finally got there,
you said that you had never been.
You are wrong.

Because on one July 22,
we all sat in the harsh light,
excited about the coming week.

You had great colorful plans.
You made me laugh.
I wrote about you.
I didn't know anything then,
but I know now that was the first time you made me smile.

But now as we filter in,
alone and in the dark,
we sat on opposite sides of the couch.

I hardly made eye contact.
I wish I tried to read you.
All I know is that you sat motionlessly,
hands in your lap,
for once kept to yourself as I slowly peeled back my cuticles.

I just remember staring at your sweater,
I thought it was funny how much it looked like mine.

Two months ago I just wanted your arm around me.
Today I wish I didn't squeeze so hard.

I realized that for the first time,
I'm no longer craving your fingers dancing across my spine.
I'm no longer craving you.
William Eberlein Feb 2013
A hand over your eyes,
to surprise you.

A hand to your lips,
so that I can say those three words first.

A hand over your heart,
to warm it and to ease it.

A hand on your hips,
to feel you dance.

A hand on your soul,
to witness you full and true.

And not to forget...

My hand in yours,
to let you know,
that I will never leave your side.

That you are not alone,
when facing infinity.

And that I will love you,
for all eternity.

A hand offered in earnest,
to start a journey together,
in a world of endless possibility.
sara Jun 2014
I swore that I knew you
just like the back of my hand
every blemish, every freckle,
every scar, was you

But now
My blemishes begin to even out
My freckles, rearranging themselves
And any old scars are fading.
mt Apr 2018
u used to like the way i listen u liked it more when i'd speak
i'd fall asleep to ur voice and find heaven in ur heartbeats
missing u hurts my core, makes me think feel and cry
tell me if my hands didn't still shake when i see u would u allow urs in mine
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