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He Said She Said Jan 2014
Hide and go Seek Yourself Out


Destiny's a fickle date; you can dance and dance and dance all night,
tip toe tap tap tap your feet and waltz jagged lines until your soles bleed,
dance one direction then off in another trailing ****** footprints,
evidence of where you've been - a hint at where you'll go,
it's never so simple though, is it?

Maybe your date never wanted to go to the ball,
maybe you took her out on a picnic,
rolling green hills and a sunset,
"oh oh oh no" though, "no no no" she says,
Destiny, Destiny - she throws you for a loop,
Hooks, jabs, cancer, unemployment, all thrown the same way by she that crazy ***** Destiny,
but that's OK you roll with the proverbial punches,
duck, bob and weave your way through life to make it to your end goal of bedding Destiny!

or did you?

You could do it all right and still not get her, not meet expectations,
a long night with lustful, kissless lips longing for Destiny.

Nothing is certain.

Nothing is certain but that the night will end,
and when it does where will you be?
Will it be where you wanted to be?
Does it matter?

Of course not; because wherever you will be you will be with your Destiny.
Life analogy from drinking too much tonight, another one to tweek and play around with over the next couple days - Him
Emmennarr Sep 2017
Why be so depressed and stressed
Just because you're lovesick,
It's fixable with the risk
Of one more set of dead lips.
Don't miss
Ignorance isn't always bliss

Chloe
Alex Apples Oct 2013
Her alabaster shoulders shamed by
scandalous spears of searing light
crashing from the frame of oak
that broke the smoldering night
a whispered confessional of sinners
plunged into passioned plight
Juliet y Angelica accost by Romeo
and he no rapier wit or steel to fight
nor they the kissless tongues to plead
or frozen feet to take their flight

only hearts to bleed.
Miranda Mar 2012
I saw you today and my heart jumped into my throat.
I felt fire creeping up my arteries and threatening to burn straight through the thin skin of my throat and my chest.
I should have tattooed a giant chestpiece there, like Magen’s, because that’s what it felt like,
and then at least I could have said that I had a reason for it to hurt and tighten up.

What do you think? Do you think about it, what happened?

The vindictive side of me, which has never been very strong, wants you to think about it everyday like I did.

She wants you to pain in ways you haven’t before,
to remember what it felt like to hold me against your bare and skinny chest,
to hear my breathing as you slept,
to smell my hair as it crept onto your pillow from my thrashing in my sleep.

She wants you to remember kissing me,
the fire between us, the incredible passion that could have been.

She wants you to feel miserable at the thought that you will never ******* lips again.

You will never again bite my neck and send flames down my spine.
You will never again lock eyes with me and smile at the thought of the future.
You will never again feel my fingers running through your hair,
pulling and tangling and massaging your scalp,
as my breath tickles the small hairs of your neck and your ear,
my silent and kissless way of kissing you.

Then I remember that you thrive on the dramatic, that you would only use this misery as fuel for your grimaces,
as coals to burn behind your beautiful but hard brown eyes,
as firewood to increase your attractiveness to others.

“A man with a monologue can steal your heart,” is what we said last week.
It should have been,
“A man with a sadness can steal your soul,” because that’s what almost happened.

You have a sadness, sometimes.
Not often.
Not everyone sees it, but I imagine more people notice that you think.
You aren’t always happy as you want people to think. You aren’t the clown at all times.
Sometimes you think about sad things,
remember how she lied to you for months and tried to lie to you again.

She is just as bad as you are.
You can’t man up and she can’t tell the truth.
You’re perfect for each other.

*When I leaned in close to you, you kissed your fear instead of me.
Allen Smuckler Aug 2010
I sense the words askew,
in the recess of my soul.
It tends to lend some credence
if the ending is sublime...

Deeds recognized beyond you.
Does nothing leave its hole?
Develop something more than dance,
dessert my endless climb...

Ask only if you dare to view
a monster black as coal.
Address the thrill of holding hands,
and help me reach my prime...

Lust doesn’t mean a simple brew,
laid neatly in a bowl.
Life’s hugs are often happenstance,
left loving all the time...

In harmony we come as two;
I’m breathless from the toll.
It’s just another kissless trance
involved in a crime...

Scurrying thoughts without a clue;
succumbing from our stroll.
Shadowy dreams that will enhance;
some days are more sublime...
May 1, 2001
One of my most difficult poems...and most satisfying
Lyn Senz Nov 2013
dripping wet emotions
with defensive underwear
tripping ghetto potions
an expensive teddybear

you're a wordy birdy whiddler
of some truth I wouldn't know
and I'm a hurdy gurdy fiddler
of some sooth I shouldn't show

you alight a quiet yearning
you aflame my frozen soul
feels so right the night so burning
but I don't claim my chosen goal

in the blissless listless morning
I begin again to go
you're a kissless mistress scorning
any kin my sin will sow

and the end my friend is calling
my life petty all alone
will she tend and fend my falling
or be a pretty little stone


2012 Lyn
Hi. I remember thinking up
the first stanza while delivering
papers one morning, then went home and finished it. Another one
where the whole purpose was just
to rhyme the **** out of it
Courtney O Oct 2019
Why am I so thrilled
to begin this journey without your kiss?
This kissless journey for you and me

My alien fellow traveler
you are lost, I showed you were so
Grab my friendly hand
-it reaches no longer
in the inside of your pants-
let's walk, let's walk

You make me somewhat high
when I am low
but I will help you
if I just can
no matter what!

You are sick, and broken,
and about to find something
You will swim the oceans to find
what you need
This is new - I want to see it be
You shine a light on me
But not as bright as him
I saw better days
PK Wakefield Nov 2013
fall into sleep thy body always Spring,
let thy hair uncrisply from mutest gold
turn from youth's splendors

                        towar' wrinkles; fold.


of thy mouth make early nothing,
as April flowers tender

pass thy lips to clearings cold
with kissless hours slender.


fear not the weary mile
treaded years shall always bring

walk in fasted silence
and of thy ending slowly sing.
Hammra Sistur Aug 2020
9
this NIGHT
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀ 2} a harsh han⠀⠀d of          v
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ r,
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 3}
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
]: radium⠀⠀b i r⠀ d⠀⠀⠀s
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀*****
⠀⠀⠀⠀the
⠀⠀⠀⠀water's
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀­⠀⠀⠀⠀ fresh coat of painted
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ night
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
a c/ross
⠀ the skin oF a ) kissless converSation
concerning
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀a
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ car failing
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀to
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ use a
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀turn signal
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ while changing⠀l a⠀n⠀ e⠀⠀s
Maria Mitea Jul 2021
I received a ticket to the land of never happened,
not knowing how to find its non-end
I flew until  landed on an eyelid,
- you were standing still,

then I thought,

to be able to stand face to face,
let”s carve the gate of the kissless,
- we have eyes, we have,
we flow into them like a river of milk,
eye to eye, lip to lip, - no kiss,
like marble statues, we remain devoted to innocence,
we keep it as holy water,
we drink it without wetting our lips,
without being crazy to kiss when the village burns,

and instead of the table of silence
we better carve the table of non-silence
- everything will be perfect,
without struggling in our own nets,
we hide in one eye, small, small,
unseen and beautiful,
when the unlived would see us
so cute, and quiet,
quite,
like two fireflies,
would let us,
it would let us play between your eyebrows,

*

and we played,
we played with two strands of grass,
the grass of never happened,
it was sweet
so sweet
that the insomnia of a poem struck us,
(already written by the other eye,
but who cares
when I already had a ticket to the land of never happened)

— The End —