"inhibition" poems
Convoluted & Polluted
Distraught & Disjointed
Corrupted & Addicted
Emotion human condition
Toil & Deprivation
Choice & Inhibition
Arrogance & Suspicion
Make your self decision
Want & Understanding
Seek & Sophistication
Experience & Learning
All on the itinerary
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 4:20 AM UTC
I'll ravage your flesh with a ferocious hunger,
devoid of any restraint or inhibition, as I immerse myself
in the pursuit of satiating my most primal desires.
With every inhale, the intoxicating scent of your flower
captivates my senses, leaving me lusting for the delectable
sweetness that lies within. It's a flavor that seduces like a
symphony playing upon my taste buds, awakening an insatiable
craving that consumes me from within.
So, my love, settle upon my tongue and allow yourself to
indulge in the enchanting sensations that await you there.
Feel the heat of my breath mingling with your essence, teasing
and coaxing, guiding you towards the pinnacle of pleasure.
As the strands of your hair intertwine with my grasp, I will
shape our movements with unwavering confidence, leading you
through the tumultuous symphony of our desire.
In my presence, the strength of our connection will resonate
through every fiber of your being.
Your legs will surrender to their trembling under the weight of
our intense union, while your heart and soul collide with a force
so powerful it leaves no doubts or hesitation in your mind.
You will know, without the shadow of a doubt, that you
belong to me and me alone.
And allow me to confess, my darling, that my words possess
a hypnotic quality that penetrates your very core.
Even before my teeth sink into the tender flesh of your neck,
my lips will grace its surface, ascending its contours like
a mountaineer seeking the highest summit.
With every touch, every caress, the walls within you will
yield gradually and willingly, testaments to the profound pleasure
I offer and the ecstasy we create together.
As our passionate encounter reaches its zenith, I want you to
revel in the knowledge that every moment has been a sensational surrender to the depths of desire.
My whispers, soft as silk against your ear, will affirm the
undeniable truth that our connection is beyond question or doubt.
It is a truth that we share, etched upon our very beings, binding
us together in an unbreakable bond.
In the end, my love, there is no room for uncertainty.
Your complete and utter enjoyment of our encounters is not
a mere fleeting possibility but an irrefutable reality that we
both embrace. In the whispers of our ecstasy, in the echoes
of our connection, the affirmation resounds loudly and clearly:
__You belong to me, my love... and forevermore,
you shall remain mine and mine alone.__
Feb 10, 2024
Feb 10, 2024 at 12:08 PM UTC
Poetry is a mask in reverse
created from just a mere spark
bringing to light
who we really are
out of the depths of the dark
Despite ourselves
we try to hide
in the realms of our daily lives
and then poetry's
visceral therapy
weaves magic spells
from our fingers
right out
of our minds
Suddenly, there is no choice
but to allow those masks
to be dropped
like a sudden change of fancy
at a medieval ball:
Naked eyes for coverings
are swapped
Yes…the command is given
ornate masks slip
with a splat upon
the floor
Suddenly, all dancers look
upon each other's faces
discovering treasures
they knew not before
Pregnant silence reigns
and only then
does the true dance begin
in bransles' or corantos' countered moves,
a new quiet
drowns out the din
Let it commence!
in festive air,
all attempts to hide
are in vain
Subtextual glances
and heady music
create sensual tension
profane
The wine is flowing
smiles glowing
and soon release will
bear fruit
as the dance is danced
without inhibition
and all pretenses
start to uproot
And so it is
in poetry…
All those masks
are thrown down
the words just
trip
from beyond our lips
making magic
from adjectives and nouns
Now, our words drip upon the paper
revealing the secrets divine
our souls are coaxed out from the layers
melting your
sparkling poets' hearts
into mine
Apr 1, 2016
Apr 1, 2016 at 4:52 PM UTC
I have no idea
What brought me here
To this place,
This mystical temple
Of a sacred space
But here I stand
And my arms
My heart
are wide open
Raised to the heavens
As I pray
Open to receiving miracles
Open to the wonders
Of this love
And I wonder
What an alternate universe
May have brought
But it is pointless
For I am thankful
And happy with what I have
I am happy
To have been created as me
To have created and still
To create
And I am elated
To a heavenly sort of place
As my heart I do consecrate
Raise my eyes to the stellar fires
Bless each and one of my earthly
And unearthly desires
I pour the sacred water
Upon my head
Feel its coolness
In the sparkling night
I feel the divine essence
from above
Bless my spirit, Bless my soul
I thank the Universe
For keeping me whole
For making me a woman,
A mother
A friend devoted
For staying real,
not sugar-coated
For being blessed
A sensual creature
****** delight
a powerful feature)
I am thankful for my strength
And intellectual liberty
And for my constant fight
To keep myself
Free
And, most of all --
I am ever grateful
For this divine opportunity…
Ever humbled, as it is
Bestowed upon me:
To experience
the profound inner light
of my own emotions
to give myself a gift
of utter devotion
to allow myself
without inhibition
the freedom of expression
I was meant for
To come into
Fruition.
Yes, in joy
Yes, in wonder
I raise my head to the heavens
And take in the thunder
Oct 2, 2015
Oct 2, 2015 at 9:38 AM UTC
lovers are burning.] balsamic ****** gallops from shame
into the overwild wetness of labial volcanoes, caramelized in musk. by love's labor.
laid bare, their bodies origami inhibition...[ lovers are burning. ]
and surrender is victorious !
Eros is speechless. maidens howl into cumulus goose-down, chewing carnal haikus
with swayed backs.... hips wide and wanton. masculine wands plow oyster beds, unmade.
they joust pearls... and [ lovers are burning ]
.... a damp conflagration; tongue stoked and windswept, conspires.
monotony is slain !
puritan harps are plucked and thrummed ! lewd harmonies anoint the perfect pitch
and a chorus moans. the ghost of sylvia plath, straddles Apollo; and he earns his wreath
surging besotted. [ lovers are burning ] and laurels forgotten.
lotharios charge the seldom road; the starfish door to Saturn's parlor.
pumping unbridled, that glistening, cloven moon. her riding crop insists !
his urgency must do.
satyrs sup salaciously and summon staves to dip in brine. they grin and grind
their sutras, stripping karma gears with silk scarves. ankles to a post, well spread...
cushions crush. flowers press... stamen fed.
nymphs clutch their serpent stones
to drain what nectar slips the slit. they ***** and throat.
they peck and pinch their quivers; knock their arrows to the purpose, half spent.
[ lovers are burning ]
eyes ablaze. nostrils fetch randy fumes of consent. mouths seek.
a pouty swamp with Spanish moss.... finds a matador
and a bull, a china shop.
lovers are burning the rough sketch of a lost god
and their angels are voyeurs
with unclean thoughts
for gospels.
Aug 20, 2013
Aug 20, 2013 at 3:14 PM UTC
It’s a puzzle
thinking what is salient
complications become proliferate
Hands on quarter position
evoking my inner senses
too late in one’s niche
It’s my inhibition
brought me in subliminal
My entire life,
without her presence
Cumulative heuristics
with other girls
and other boys
drawing some vague experiences
And I just thought
we can’t hold on
together
but we can move on
It’s crazy as I think
of you and me again
upon my emotional scrutiny
You're my drama.
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 12:14 PM UTC
resuming vogon poetry
altering website logos
pretending everyone cares
playing "east hastings"
asphyxiating well-nigh denouement
depicting twitter status
obfuscating coincident deletions
translating from Sḵwx̱wú7mesh
assuring Sḵwx̱wú7mesh exists
painting skwiḵw's mother?
decrying micropolitical maelstrom
imbibing fireball fountain
inundating lexical foofaraw
crafting poetic wonders
desiring other mediums
remaining practically invisible
ending internet-only depression
drafting noetic blunders
requesting astute clique
blazing perilous trail
aging ominous grisaille
depicting kmart realism
seeking darker groups
increasing pre-weekend laughter
appropriating communist symbols
making lone chuckle
offending worldwide communists
colonizing hello poetry
colonizing parallel universe
relaxing e-migration policies
пить чистую водку
photographing abduction scene
¿losing consistent format?
increasing bluebird insignia
avoiding frivolous legalities
striking astraphobic comments
assuming near-universal automation
lowering latent inhibition
traversing oneiric plane
laxwadding afebrile loodies
wallscaping pitchsourced chthonicities
closing one-star conveniences
sharing alien-looking alphabet
writing system downtimes
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 7:42 PM UTC
The City of Derby holds her breath amidst the crisis of historical ramblings and talkative expressions of inhibition.
Do not be deceived. Roaches are not mere insects, but are also three-course celebrations of haunting and religious engagements. There are Peaks which lie beyond the stratospheres of Leek.
Although the parameters of yesteryear project their own splendour, let us acknowledge the silver hair which drips with eternal statements of antagonistic adoration in Curzon Street.
Oh, rose of Sharon, in my sheer lack of understanding, I do not invalidate those instructions to depart from Birmingham New Street.
I have deeply immersed myself in Welsh pools of genuine loss, and have found a precious commodity which I had never beheld in former lifetimes.
Furthermore, I lament the loss of such generational integrity.
Dec 25, 2013
Dec 25, 2013 at 12:25 AM UTC
If you give a wishing stone,
she'll travel out all on her own.
She'll leave behind the fear and pain,
and keep herself from going insane.
While her friends are getting diagnosed,
she'll be somewhere in her boat.
Maybe she'll have tea for two,
but at least she'll know what to do.
And they may ask, and plead, and beg to be in her world,
but she'll certainly say,
"Be gone, be gone, or off with your head."
Which should be said, since they cursed her be dead.
If you give a girl a wishing stone,
she'll truly feel all alone,
and for those who never cared "be gone!"
The queen has finally sang her song.
She was never a fool, just a withered small bud,
and those pigs would throw her around in the mud.
So sure she dreams and dazes off,
but she can do whatever she wants.
She earned a bit of recognition,
for all antagonize and inhibition.
Give that girl some cheer,
she fought a war for all those years.
Stop the hate for her being crushed,
unlike some, she had no love!
The glass shattered hard,
it's no surprised it became shards.
Giving time and yells,
doesn't heal, it kills.
If you give a girl a wishing stone,
you've given her one happiness finally of her own.
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 3:43 AM UTC
Like falling to the earth, your wings aflame
but realizing that it isn't fear you're feeling
Like trying to keep yourself in perfect balance
but tempted, sorely tempted, to let go
Like telling yourself not to fly too close to the sun
but loving the way the burn cleanses
Like telling yourself not to fly too close to the waves
but tasting freedom in salty sea air
Like the moment when you realize you will fall
but accepting the inevitable with a smile
Like the spiraling decent toward your fate
but it feels like a roller coaster
Like the squeak and complaint of gears
this contraption wasn't made for this
Like a father's cry of complete horror
but weren't we aiming for escape?
Like the fear and attempt of saving your life
but don't martyrs die for freedom?
Like the scream of pure delight ripped from your smile
A trail of feathers all that remains of your inhibition
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 8:52 AM UTC
I am attracted to you
Like an electron to a proton
Together we form an ionic bond
Though we are opposite charged ions
I am drawn towards you
Our love is unique as an orbital
For only two electrons can fill this space
As my love for you increases
My energy level rises
I am in this excited state
Increasing the tendency to form a chemical bond
I was an element
It took you to make me a compound substance
Falling in love with you is a chemical reaction
Which cause my love for you to grow
Ours is an exothermic love
Each for giving off love not just absorbing it
Sometimes you do something especially nice
Which speeds up the chemical process
Like a catalyst in my increasing love for you
I realise we have our inhibition periods
And sometimes I am selfish enough
To be an endothermic reaction
Only absorbing your love
The feeling I have for you is so intense
It cannot be measured in kilojoules
Often I have to make a qualitative elementary analysis
To understand and love you more
But I don't expect to know your empirical formula
You are too complex a person for that
When you are gone
I am a noble gas
An inert substance
When I am without you
The world seems still
And I am at equilibrium
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 1:51 AM UTC
The first line iced with hope; straight from the heart.
Melody striving to impress; the sound of a fresh start,
The world would hear the latent pain- only they listened closely.
And maybe in those happy lyrics, they would see the irony.
No, never with their minds; they only listened with their ears.
Only heard her 'happy' melody; never her unspoken fears.
Sung too many times, her chorus had lost its charm.
'Encore. Encore. It can't possibly do you any harm.'
The winds yelled cruelly, the clouds roared with fury and might.
Trials and tribulations; the universe always ready to pick a fight.
There was no exit from this world- this battlefield of horror,
Where soldiers trudged unarmed, yet unscathed never.
Nostalgia struck; breaking through her unfortified mind.
The prettiest of smiles on her lips; it was time to rewind.
There was no audience; not a soul around to stare.
Singing on the road sans inhibition, she had not a care.
Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 7:04 AM UTC
Unreasonably rebellious
Sarcasms at its worst
Selfish inhibition
an angry look with angry words
stuck in a fantasy
Of infatuation uncontrolled
lock your mind away
from this meaningless world
this little sanctuary
where you'll always be loved
turn your back on everything
for what you believe is love
Feb 2, 2014
Feb 2, 2014 at 2:33 AM UTC
I've abandoned a withered state, fumbling
Toward your ecstasy - opening windows to
A brave new world: What a scene to behold!
My heart has calmed consuming life’s tonic -
I'm filled with attraction, alike an alchemist
disposition to discover their personal legend
How far, do thoughts travel? Become aware,
we’ve covered only but a few hours of sleep
The vicissitudes of motion - by faith we move
At luminal speed, ’til visions dawn and we’re
Before a sky clearing moon
Shall we recline in that loft above?
While it be suspended in the fetal position?
Or tarry until morn’ when reflections are reborn
From spurts of spontaneity, to cycles of growth
Apprehending blessings so as to appreciate the
distance of our obstacles
For camaraderie's had since severed –
And authenticity perfidiously pilfered –
And liars became prosecutors of liars
Pregnant with delusions of grandeur
Freedom is the temporal prison for
Revolutionaries wails of conditions
Psalms of sentimentalism provoke
An emotional tug of war, conscripting
another soldier of love – wearing a fig
Leaf of inhibition and foul remains of
passed transgressions...
Where to turn to when you’re cold?
Intransigent echoes give no warmth
I’ve fallen into the (d)earth of sanity
Erstwhile
Fumbling
Toward
Ecstasy
Sep 28, 2012
Sep 28, 2012 at 2:27 PM UTC
The night becomes you -
hair coiffed in fashion
illuminated eyes reveal attraction,
the scent of body oil
pervasive,
ambient music evolves
persuasive
savory rhetoric,
cabernet erodes my inhibition
no contrition, turn the ignition.
The night becomes you -
you wear it well
an amalgam,
ardor and insouciance -
redefining glamour,
ephemeral moments
dial down the sunlight,
I am slain - voice and accent
weave their spell;
black dust coat, white hat,
a pair of posh boots
they live to tell.
The night becomes you
rhyme scheme - lyrical poetry
sophisticated venue, table for two
ensconced, the
leather lounge,
similitude within difference;
undulation - cadences of
counterpoint -
poise and peril of duality
we inhabit the floor.
Postprandial, conversation extempore;
machinations of intoxicating discourse,
I could drink your words -
artistic milieu- beguiling imagery,
sonant susurrations
penetrate my being.
The night becomes you -
theoretical locutions
phrasing depth and humor,
undiluted amour, tensions resolve
frame by frame,
solidify the affair
and validate the rumor
subsumed in sequence, pulsating,
igniting the sapid interior flame
silver screen ending,
effusive reviews
two hearts collide and form one;
the cherub's arrow finds its aim.
©2008 & 2011 W.S. Warner
Sep 22, 2011
Sep 22, 2011 at 10:34 PM UTC
The sun bled infection
Mother Nature wept at all this mess.
they was all runts made of litter
& was done away with each other
before they seent they was
one with each other &
it bothered Father Time so
he shot Big Brother &
Little Sister down with his nine
& god daughter blind saw
the whole slaughter but
thought the whole thing was
pretty much black and white.
Do away with em all, Charlotte.
doused in scarlet charlatan-
lifted inhibition
her golden hearted
harlot trickery
speaks of defeat in victories;
he lived in his liquor
to prevent from feelin
too sick with himself
same reason
he sticks himself with needles
treating diseases
no one but them can see &
feeding to the need of the queen
to keep the screams quiet for the night
& keep the hive alive alright
& thriving vibrant
lest the fiends get violent
& riot inside their minds.
then there's a problem.
but problems is made for solvin.
zoom out, island of lost babies
where they got Wilbur's head on a stake
speaking zen
the monster live within &
we're just seeing in others
a reflection of ourselves.
breathe in, buddha.
burn slow.
move steady or
lose your head.
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015 at 3:28 AM UTC
I FALL full length into all life,
And my lust for living roars within me.
No pleasures in the world can equal
The stupendous joy of one who can't tell it
Except by rolling on the ground in the grass and the daisies,
Mingling with the dirt until his suit and hair are ***** . . .
There are no verses that can grant this.
Pluck a blade of grass, bite into it, and you will understand,
You will completely understand what I incompletely express.
I crave to be a root
Pursuing my inner sensations like a sap . . .
I'd like to have all the senses -- including
My intellect, imagination and inhibition --
On my skin's surface so that I could roll over the rough ground
More deeply within, feeling more roughness and bumps.
I'd be satisfied if my body were my soul,
For only then would all winds, all suns and all rains
Be felt by me in the way I'd like.
This being impossible, I despair, I rage,
I wish I could gnash at my suit
And have a lions tough claws to rip at my flesh
Until the blood would flow, flow, flow, flow . . .
I suffer because all of this is absurd,
As if I could scare somebody
With my hostile feeling toward destiny, toward God,
Which arises when we confront the Ineffable
And suddenly perceive our weakness and smallness.
Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 1:04 PM UTC
I am the Aphrodite
Goddess
Woman
Lover
Mate
From my double D’s
To scarred up knees
The pistol whipped
Stamen ready
Lady your wife
Warns you about
My mouth is open
And eyes wide shut
Speaking truths
Most cannot fathom
Perhaps
Ignore
Flower blossom
Open wide
Blooming in my winter
A goddess
Addict
Mind of a lady
And ***** face
Fire in your belly
Ice in my veins
From polished nails
To scented hair
Shaved skin
Smooth
All lady
With an attitude
I have lived
Enough hell
To know my
Heaven
A religion
Between my thighs
The Goddess
Of inhibition
Flash of animal
In my eyes
I dig my nails
Deep
Inside pink flesh
And whisper
What you want to hear
So here’s your lady
A *****
A *****
Queen for a day
And lifelong
*****
Aug 17, 2010
Aug 17, 2010 at 9:11 PM UTC
Sitting alone in my bed,
Anxiously yearning the touch of something different.
Contemplating about differences,
Visualizing the new experiences,
Mesmerizing about different beauties,
Fantasizing the new opportunities,
About women of different cultures,
Ethnicity and upbringing.
Pay no mind to the language barrier,
As our body speak that universal language,
We can have intellectual conversations,
We can have passionate interactions.
Lets's ponder with deep imagination,
As we diversify this love, ignore it's discrepancies,
So girls of all colors come closer and get drawn like crayola,
As we paint this picture to see what we can make of this blend of colors.
Envision this:
Background music effectively babysitting my thoughts as I listen,
Laying under the moon,
With that special person.
Inwardly rehearsing,
Every move to make,
Opportunities to take,
Intaking the passion from the air she breathes out,
Creating chemistry not even Einstein could figure out.
This love should be an equal opportunity,
You plus me that's all that should matter.
So would you explore your heart?
Release the stereotypes that keep you in the dark?
As darkness falls,
Our temperatures rise.
A reflection of moonlight shimmers in those eyes.
They tell me your secrets;
I tell you no lies.
What lies beneath your skin will be ugliness' demise.
Ironic, in the dark you see me for who I truly am.
And I tell you who you truly are.
So far. So good.
So deep, it goes beneath your beauty,
It goes beyond whatever society will tell you not to do with me.
Tonight your biases shall not rule thee,
For I am king of this pride.
Swallow your pride and swallow my pride.
Release the wait of inhibition and take this ride.
Our inner flames fueled by passion shall light our way.
They say, we are blind but it is only in darkness that we truly see.
Give up shallow emotions, let your heart be free.
Immerse yourself in this reality:
My love is river, all else is only skin deep.
Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 7:11 AM UTC
Waking up the morning after,
I can only recall the excessive laughter.
The great vibes shared in one moment in time,
It was all so beautiful, the highest of highs.
****
My glance embarrassingly detects
the frightful fact the mirror reflects.
A bathroom tagged with the night's mistakes,
Rorschach like markings of drinks and rare steaks.
Always said "Yes", lacking all inhibition.
I wish last night I lived its definition.
So I readjust my head and all of the fixtures,
and pray to god no one took any pictures.
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 11:25 AM UTC
Oh, I got that feeling again. I’ve been staring at the ceiling again. Letting my heart take flight, as the music reaches its height, taking my thoughts out of minds’ sight. But this feeling I now fight, cannot be controlled. Cannot be moved, overcome, or even forced to fold. Gripping my ever-changing soul and forcing my hands. As my breath leaves my body and my feet forget to stand. Hands pushed to speak through the letters they find. Putting feelings to words that cant seem to speak my mind. Frustrated by my inaction, that passively takes form. In the words I now force to unwilling conform. To these one-inch margins that box in my thoughts, constricting my deepest feelings and simplify life’s plot. All perpetuated by the rhythm, of the ever-spinning fan. Mounted just above my bed, that seems to hypnotize what’s in my head. Threading image to feeling, and my feelings to my words. As the tapestry of us, now resembles fleeing birds. Each winged reminisce that has forever taken flight, a moment in time that will always hold spite. Towards cliffs edge that stands between what the heart seeks. And a mans inability to step beyond its daunting peak. So with time ticking down and our future running by, I stand at a distance and continue our little lie. One living in the shadows of nights eternally pasted on, when passions ignited without though of our coming dawn. Only of the connection made with courage in hand, liquefied to motivate beyond what history had banned. What allies once forbid and witnesses cheered on, inhibition finding wind and politics forgone. Now forced to be nothing more then memories in the sand, as our hourglass approaches empty and my thoughts continue to be fanned. Continue to find rhythm as the blades spin madly by, ticking down to a day when I cannot take the lie. Cannot take this falsehood that pushes me from behind, as I approach that daunting edge of my own terrified mind. So with time in short supply along with my pride, I put black to white and our segregation aside. In the hopes that time stands still for just a moment more, to help you understand that it is you I adore.
Apr 18, 2013
Apr 18, 2013 at 12:59 AM UTC
this is
your open field
this is
where you lie on your back
on a fluffy, plaid duvet
eating strawberries
forgetting the sound of honking cars
and car alarms
this is your studio
replace the clay with bars of soap
paintbrushes with shampoo bottles
write your thoughts on fogged glass
lists of run-on sentences, scribbled
without inhibition
this is where the water runs off
your shoulders
this is where you reflect
it is not poetic
it is quiet, it is ordinary
knots of hair from gushing wind
smoothed over with aloe conditioner
everything is spinning, but here it slows
this is where you pause
this is where you breathe
this is where you begin again
Jun 3, 2018
Jun 3, 2018 at 11:32 AM UTC
her hesitating beauty
over a hundred days
each a silk thread
each a dark pearl
kissing specifics
in the empty space of a matinée
hologram of the new sun
burning like prime meridian, the hunter's star
ripples of inhibition, making waves
and confessions in
the deep end of a pool
always submissive with a smile
like holding her breath underwater
Apr 11, 2023
Apr 11, 2023 at 12:26 PM UTC
i am a poet and still
i can’t comprehend these symbols
these missing heartbeats
and hours spent counting thimbles
i am perplexed by love
shall we seek herbs and remedies
lose ourselves in cures and compounds
must our inner territories be colonized
while we remain captivated by inconvenient theories
struck down by doubt and insecurity
the mind wields no ammunition
and yet its cavalry has desecrated the land
without the slightest sign of inhibition
or a trace of empathy, justice or compassion
will we make a new peace treaty
will the blessed earth be forgiven
and can the sweet essence of her children
comprehend the innocence of spring
oh how our hearts yearn for dancing
still you spend your dollars and your pennies
but give your emptiness to the king
i eat oats and honey cooked upon the fire
while you distill golden nectar from the garden of desire
in the ancient inside-out alembic of your will
and imbibe spagyric liquid that eradicates all pride
and confers wisdom, truth, beauty and longevity
upon the already immortal nature of your mind
Sep 5, 2018
Sep 5, 2018 at 5:04 PM UTC
I feel at home when you hold me
Head resting on your chest
Hear your heart beat
Your arms around me
Wrapped up in each other completely
Hear you breathe deeply
Feel you breathe me
I feel at home when you hold me
I feel alive when you touch me
Fingers linked in mine
Legs intertwined
Feel your Breath on the back of my neck
Feel your grip
As you slip into me
Defeat me, complete me
I'm yours, you're mine completely
I feel alive when you touch me
I lose all memory when you kiss me
Lose my breath
Lose all sense
All inhibition
All weakness, all strength
I Have no past, no future
All time is present
I lose all memory when you kiss me
I lost myself being with you
When you left
I had no home
I was dead
There's only memories
Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 10:06 AM UTC