"hickeys" poems
Pimple popping
Lathered deodorant
Awkward tampons
Hair in unwanted places
Drunken nights
Failed hangover cures
Flunked classes
Broken hearts
First kisses and first times
Rebounds
Hookups
Hickeys
Rushes of frustration
These are all
unglamorous occasions
Of a not so florescent
Adolescence
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 3:06 PM UTC
I dream of your lips pressed against mine.With your hands exploring my body while you press me up against a wall.
I imagine you leaving me with hickeys, scratches and bite marks.
I think of cloths scattered on the floor and of you pressing me to you so there is no space between us.
I don't want flowers, chocolates and love.
I want lip biting, messy sheets and lust.
May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 3:11 PM UTC
Rough ,Wet, Make it hurt
Sore in the morning
No time to flirt
No love, no whispers
Not even a kiss
Like animals, Mechanical
Tasting this
Bruises, teeth marks,
hickeys, thirst
******* licking, Harder, grinding
The spot, Almost
Screaming, finding
Spasm, tightening
****** blinding
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 10:21 AM UTC
I'm struggling with guilt
After leaving lipstick on your collar
And hickeys on your shoulder
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 8:44 PM UTC
torn jeans
dimples
station wagons
shifting eyebrows
eager hands
wry smiles
chapped lips
cheap beer
deep-set eyes
pirated music
hates his birthday
stoplight-kisses
star-gazing in cornfields
****** knuckles
broken minds
lanky limbs
poetry books
scruffy faces
jet-black coffee
calloused hands that still feel soft
adventurer's heart
jumping fences
midnight tokes
always gives you hickeys
always opens your door
worn sneakers
chewed pen caps
late for work
old windbreakers
dirt under his fingernails
omniscient smirks
expensive cologne
good intentions -
but is bad with goodbyes
hates himself for making you cry
broken cigarettes
aviator shades at night
a perpetually furrowed brow
and a laugh that sounds like autumn leaves as they crunch beneath your feet
m.f.
Oct 11, 2013
Oct 11, 2013 at 12:16 AM UTC
And the thing was
I was falling so hard for you
I had jumped off the cliff
Hoping you would catch me
At the bottom
I wore
Your necklace of hickeys
Around my neck
But once I saw the ground
And realized you weren't there
The necklace turned into a noose
And tightened right before
I hit the ground
My last thought was
How relieved I was you caught me
Even if if wasn't in the way
I wanted
Jul 25, 2015
Jul 25, 2015 at 5:56 AM UTC
When the boy you like shows up with a hickey on his neck,
do not linger.
I know what it is like to be in that state of limbo
Between hope and surrender
When every time he puts his arms around you it feels like the stars have aligned and all is right with the world.
But also when his eyes brush over the cute waitress' body for just a second too long
It feels like your chest just opened up to reveal a shriveled heart.
And let me tell you that it is not worth it.
Because while you sit at home imagining his hands on the back of your neck,
He's in the back of a car with his lips on someone else's throat.
You will spend hours,
days,
remembering every little thing he's ever said to you,
And he will almost forget your name the next time he sees you.
Darling let me tell you
that you deserve better.
You deserve someone who will repeat your name in their sleep.
His hands will feel different
but they will be warm unlike the ice cold ones of your imagination.
And if you're lucky,
you will have plenty of hickeys of your own.
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 7:23 PM UTC
Choking on the sour taste of whisky as I say your name
My brown skin spoiled for your tongue
My heart beating to the rhythm of your drum
It calmed me to be able to surrender myself
to someone so pleasurably cruel
Going as far and as much time you permit
As your poison runs through my bones
His lips going down my neck
His breath burning my skin
Hickeys on my *******
His wandering eyes locked on my body
His hands tracing my curves
And then a stinging I felt. One that I enjoyed
You read my body's mysteries
Produce the scenes in my fantasies
My skin tied in your knotted desire
I bite my lip and press my thighs tight
And there you were, your hands around my neck
Making me light headed
Each whiplash, each biting scar
Each delicious sting from candlewax
The thin line between pain and pleasure
Only you know how to satisfy
This hunger inside of me
To make me scream and moan in sweet melody
His body was my temple
Taking pleasure as I kneel before him
And stand at his command
I knew the wetness between my legs
Would help him calm down his flames
And that his flames would cause a river
To flow down my legs
The storm inside me raging like a flash fire Consuming all in it's path
A tempest that drowns out thought and sounds
Swirling like a tornado of sensation
And I look up at him to hear his voice
The command that releases me
*** for me.
Aug 30, 2019
Aug 30, 2019 at 5:02 AM UTC
your freckles come & go
when its warm out you get so many of those cute little spots on your face & wait hang on a second i think that freckles are basically sun hickeys
whoa i wish i was the sun
Sep 5, 2014
Sep 5, 2014 at 7:54 PM UTC
She mirrored the shape of a psychotic ******
Tattooed by hickeys and bruises
Written upon the pages of her *******
In lieu of her nightly pearl tuxedo
The teeth protruding from her ******
Began hissing and spitting at me
The war was far from over
Sep 7, 2012
Sep 7, 2012 at 11:01 PM UTC
I thought that maybe I'd have something to write about now but I guess not because here I am with black eyeliner and hickeys that look like snakebites still wondering what to say
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 12:22 PM UTC
“Sir, this mole seems to be growing and spreading”
Suhail stopped the scissor and comb, and said
“It’s a bit grown than last month and even then, I noticed it spreading”
Suhail is my hair stylist for the last about six years
I have seen him growing from a Hair Analyst to Specialist to Senior Hair Specialist
There is something more than the generous tip that connects us
May be my willingness to abide by his experiments with my hair
Or reciprocation of loyalty that bound us every month
Surprised, I asked him, “What mole are you talking about?”
“Don’t you know the black mole on the back side of your left ear” puzzled Suhail
“You go and check with Madam, may be its my feeling only”
“How would madam know about it Suhail, she doesn’t cut my hair!”
“Arre Sir, you too!” Suhail had a vicious smile on his face
“Come on tell me” I prodded him with the same viciousness
We got into wayward pastime …
“Arre, Sir, they get to see it…
When you lay down on her lap in those afternoons
And she combs your hair with her fingers
And when you fall into that muddle of sleepiness and excitement
Her eyes would lock it”
“Arre, Sir, they get to see it…
When she comes from the back as on paws of a cat
Hugs and hold you tight with her hands
And press her face on your shoulder
Her eyes would lock it”
“Arre, Sir, they get to see it…
When those drenched lips move away from your lips
And the craving teeth leave a hickey on that earlobe,
Her eyes would lock it”
Suhail finished the haircut and I left tipping him as usual
The drive back home searched through the labyrinths of memories
Of caressing fingers, tight hugs and hickeys
Why didn’t she mention that mole, ever?
“Honey, you never told about that Mole,
Come on, let me see and let’s go to a Dermatologist quickly
We can’t take these things lightly; the doctor may even suggest a biopsy
Biopsy is fully covered in your mediclaim, isn’t it?”
Sep 1, 2017
Sep 1, 2017 at 11:31 AM UTC
You're exactly the kind of girl
Who will give me amazing memories
Whispered secrets
Hickeys in spots only you can see
Then leave me
Act like it never happened
And be totally okay
And I'm so scared
Because you're the kind of girl
I promised myself I wouldn't fall for
But goddamnnit I haven't
Ever fallen this hard
In my life
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 11:06 PM UTC
What does that even mean?
***
What is that?
If we’re both drunk does it count?
Because I am the definition
awkward.
So a drink in me might
do her a favor.
But just for the first time.
So I’m comfortable enough
to draw my line,
Or the line of hickeys
I left on your neck.
Consent.
Because you’re awkward, too.
A lovely Shade of shyness.
But all I could do was look you
in the eyes
and say you’re beautiful.
Then a tear streamed down your face.
And all that came out was
Are you sure this is okay?
Consent.
Because I’m not comfortable,
the way you’re comfortable.
The way taking off my shirt
feels like letting the sea inside me.
So I’ll keep my pants on,
until the lights are off.
And even then,
my scars are screaming.
It’s ringing in my ear,
my biggest fear.
When she stops and whispers,
Are you sure this is okay?
The first time I’ve ever heard
those words.
Was the first time I felt free.
For the first time,
I didn’t feel *****
When you whisper in my ear.
I thought, Baby!
I love it when you talk
consent to me.
Mar 14, 2021
Mar 14, 2021 at 4:32 AM UTC
Hickeys:
A reminder
that
you are
mine
and I'm
is yours
A successful
breach in the
security
system
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 6:00 PM UTC
You leave me stranded like years made up of moments and vacuum hickeys and Asian milk toast mean nothing.
Train tracks remain on my timeline like a seam opening the spine of an old diary with nothing written over and over inside.
You say we will be playing scrabble on the floor of your living room someday when we are old, just as your mother does next to us with her friends listening to Adele as we plot out our lives together on a collage atop your dining room table.
You hurt me
We are dinosaurs
Strutting for the fist time in glory down seventh avenue as people wonder who we are and we think of fun to be had with friends to be met.
Park slope spread out before us paved yellow with fly paper.
Holding my heart in your hands as it is broken for the first time, i cry but know you will be there to turn those tears to glue for our friendship until you are not.
Years made up of your boyfriends that come and go and come and go and I miss you. And I want to strut down seventh avenue with you by my side feeling powerful and new again.
I want to feel fresh running down a beach of asphalt and trash; the whole world ahead gilded with possibility, and eternity resting gently on the horizon of city smoke and traffic lights. And I feel old now. But I suppose we always did.
I miss you
I still remember **** bought from boys with blonde hair and loving blue eyes hidden in camera cases, and smoked under thick trees that kept us safe from the turning of the earth. Elevators lifting us up to the 35th floor ticking like time bombs on days occupied by truth or dare marked red upon truancy calendars our parents would never find.
Why did you get so old? mature. I remember once together we vowed to remain silly and young and do all we could to smother the sound of the ticking clock removing our innocence, silencing our songs, and slowly turning us into those who we were made by.
My sister is grown. Where are you now?
Beautiful the world looked from a Brooklyn balcony at 16, the skyline smiles with the mirage of possibility and smirks with a wicked knowledge of things to come and years to pass. Would I go back to that balcony now, and stay there with you forever.
If I needed you would you come
Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 12:23 AM UTC
Covered in
hickeys
and cigarette smoke
- art is
interpretation
and I
am a masterpiece
May 23, 2015
May 23, 2015 at 7:53 PM UTC
Consent.
What does that even mean?
***
What is that?
If we’re both drunk does it count?
Because I am the definition
of awkward.
So a drink in me might
do her a favor.
But just for the first time.
So I’m comfortable enough
to draw my line,
Or the line of hickeys
I left on your neck.
Consent.
Because you’re awkward, too.
A lovely Shade of shy.
But all I could do was look you
in the eyes
and say you’re beautiful.
Then a tear streamed down your face.
And all that came out was
Are you sure this is okay?
Consent.
Because I’m not comfortable,
the way you’re comfortable.
The way taking off my shirt
feels like letting the sea inside me.
So I’ll keep my pants on,
until the lights are off.
And even then,
my scars are screaming.
It’s ringing in my ear,
my biggest fear.
When she stops and whispers,
are you sure this is okay?
The first time I’ve ever heard
those words.
Was the first time I felt free.
For the first time,
I didn’t feel *****
When you whisper in my ear.
I thought, Baby!
I love it when you talk
consent to me.
Aug 6, 2015
Aug 6, 2015 at 11:34 PM UTC
Her breath tasted like an odd combination of
****
*****
orange juice
and menthols
Her stubble scratched at my chin
Her hands gripped my waist
(almost as hard as mine gripped hers)
She laughed at I got drunker
My back was bruised from the fence at the edge of the stage
where she pressed into me
where the mass of dancing bodies pressed into her from behind
I loved those bruises when morning came
And maybe there's something wrong with me
but the fact that she had two hickeys on her neck
both the size of my palm
both still purple
Only made me want to kiss her more
And maybe there's something wrong with me
but I knew how to move my body
How to rub our hips together
My body was an expert already
but my lips were so inexperienced
I drove home that night and I didn't think about you
How you'd turn your cheek when we tried to kiss
But you'd stick your hand down my pants with excitement
How I was always your ***** little secret,
But she held my hand in public
I didn't think about your combination of
Apple Cinnamon Lotion
Tea Tree Oil Shampoo
and Mango Burt's Bees Chapstick
I thought instead of how her cherry red lipstick
stained the end of my cigarette
And reminded me that I
Don't love you
Anymore.
Apr 24, 2017
Apr 24, 2017 at 10:10 PM UTC
Hickeys are the paradox of love,
what usually comes from violence comes from passion,
scratches on his back,
and bruises on my neck,
they are all paradoxes,
the pain that usually comes from that is silenced by the bliss of love.
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 1:03 PM UTC
We and (I)
She and They
Him and Us
We afloat
Paper boats
In October storms
Who condemned us to die?
There's a hole in the boat, Lover
Perhaps we were simply
Never meant to survive
Your velveteen thorns
Scraped their hickeys
Over my paper skin
-Sinking our boat-
While the storm of your tears
Raged on from the shore.
Dec 20, 2015
Dec 20, 2015 at 2:44 PM UTC
The hickeys faded as the bruises began appearing
As if we find the bruises on each other more beautiful
Maybe we're meant to be together so that we don't hurt anybody else
Feb 23, 2017
Feb 23, 2017 at 10:07 PM UTC