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"lungful" poems
Since you've been away I've trailed the wake of the clouds Just crumbling clay... That lay in the shade that enshrouds Depending on the ifs and mays.    Wake up, my love... Since you haven't been here The sky did nothing but only sang Ambient translations of mocks and jeers As the green blades of earth bared their fangs Mischievous songs that I've held dear.      Wake up, my love... Since you've been gone I've realised that I'm not moving And you too, haven't moved since last dawn A reality all too disheartening Bits of me all cut up and sawn.          Wake up my love... Since you've been missing I am never whole, and never will A lifetime of endless chasing Bottomless jar without a seal Void clustered emptiness in need of filling.             Wake up, my love... Since you've been absent I could only hope for this lungful To lead me to subsequent Ones that taste like bitter pills encapsuled. Mind full of drugs running rampant.                Wake up, my love... Since you wouldn't have known What these days are like... Time induced tumours have grown The hours impale with temporal spikes... Inseminating malignant thoughts soon to be sown.                   Wake up, my love... Since you've been away I'm a player hoping for a fair game Nonetheless still crumbling clay... That lay in the dark just the same Choking on the what ifs and what mays.
0
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 12:16 PM UTC
Wake Up, My Love
Into a place far away but too familiar, I push open the rusty purple gates, Inhale a lungful of the province air, Kick away blue pebbles on the dusty ground, And then Mano my lolo, my tito Beso my lola, my tita And give my cousins a nudge on the arm, A pinch on the cheeks. I squeeze between four people In a rickety wooden bench and Pass around plate after heavy plate. I fill my banana leaf With spaghetti too soft too sweet, Almost like pudding, With crispy chicken dripping with oil. I wash it off with a cool glass of gulaman, Chewy beads and gems in sugary water. Fathers talk about basketball, boxing, billiards; Mothers browse through photo albums and magazines; While we children argue about Superman or Batman. Our laughter fills the humid air And goes up, up, up to the ears of the neighbors. In celebration of the time we have together And a nice sunny day We devour our meals And go ahead and Climb trees and Get our faces sticky with sweet fruits, Lick chocolate ice popsicles, Chase each other in the weedy playground, Bike around town, Pick colorful flowers, Wrestle with each other, Play badminton on a windy day, Scare around chickens and guinea pigs, And play patintero under the dull orange street lamps. We nervously creep inside the back door, All sweaty, bearing bruises and scratches But still with wide smiles on our faces. All is futile though. An angry grandmother awaits, Scolding us for Coming home past sunset. More and more stars glitter the sky As the night gets deeper and deeper. The gentle evening breeze whistles a note As it enters through the window. The karaoke blasts grating voices Interrupted by hearty laughter. Playing cards and corn chips litter the table. We children exchange jokes and ghost stories. And then, We bid our goodbyes, Sharing hugs and kisses Stained with discontent and sadness. Our hearts about to burst In excitement for the next Reunion.
0
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 3:56 AM UTC
Reunion
Into a place far away but too familiar, I push open the rusty purple gates, Inhale a lungful of the province air, Kick away blue pebbles on the dusty ground, And then Mano my lolo, my tito Beso my lola, my tita And give my cousins a nudge on the arm, A pinch on the cheeks. I squeeze between four people In a rickety wooden bench and Pass around plate after heavy plate. I fill my banana leaf With spaghetti too soft too sweet, Almost like pudding, With crispy chicken dripping with oil. I wash it off with a cool glass of gulaman, Chewy beads and gems in sugary water. Fathers talk about basketball, boxing, billiards; Mothers browse through photo albums and magazines; While we children argue about Superman or Batman. Our laughter fills the humid air And goes up, up, up to the ears of the neighbors. In celebration of the time we have together And a nice sunny day We devour our meals And go ahead and Climb trees and Get our faces sticky with sweet fruits, Lick chocolate ice popsicles, Chase each other in the weedy playground, Bike around town, Pick colorful flowers, Wrestle with each other, Play badminton on a windy day, Scare around chickens and guinea pigs, And play patintero under the dull orange street lamps. We nervously creep inside the back door, All sweaty, bearing bruises and scratches But still with wide smiles on our faces. All is futile though. An angry grandmother awaits, Scolding us for Coming home past sunset. More and more stars glitter the sky As the night gets deeper and deeper. The gentle evening breeze whistles a note As it enters through the window. The karaoke blasts grating voices Interrupted by hearty laughter. Playing cards and corn chips litter the table. We children exchange jokes and ghost stories. And then, We bid our goodbyes, Sharing hugs and kisses Stained with discontent and sadness. Our hearts about to burst In excitement for the next Reunion.
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59
With time they dissipate no harm but some broken thought ash-tray philosophies; you have a lungful of sorrows.
0
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 9:13 AM UTC
Cigarette smoke and offhand lovers
"Have you talked to dad, since you've been at school?" "Nope." "Are you coming home for thanksgiving?" "I don't know." Josephina breathes in a crackle over the phone. New York, a cacophony in the background. A background of cold, and people talking while walking while hailing a yellowcab with a left and slow-rolling heads locked onto the phones in their right. These people enter taxis, not knowing if they're ever going to reach home, or the airport, or union square, just going on the promise that they won't become road-kill. I can't feel it in my yellow apartment. If anything, my yellowcab idles. Through the receiver A squad car rings nervously, then after a lungful of garbage-smelling air, it becomes a full blare. A pause of noise always ensues, just for a second, the entire corner becomes a silent silo of human beings. "How's new york?" "you know, dad called me and asked about how to get on a diet, can you believe that?" Yes, I can dad is a fat **** a pink, white belly of a man. And a few sandbags for chins. "That's good." "So I'm not going to see you?" "Probably not." "Well, you should call dad, talk to him, he loves you." Some conversations, acheive nothing. The same tired, dead things get run over. Road-kill. Josephina believes she is the spatula that will bring back pancake squirrels and pancake relationships. As much as you don't know about me and dad's relationship, I can give you a kodak moment. A snapshot, of a hovering man, pointing at his son's neck, searching for the misplaced vertebrae, the lack of fear for the world --"the right kind of fear, the fear a man should have of himself"-- and a son, hunched, small hands in fists, a heavy haul of muscles pulled into a dark brow right over black eyes. This picture will suffice.
0
Nov 23, 2011
Nov 23, 2011 at 4:59 PM UTC
Pancake Squirrels.
"Have you talked to dad, since you've been at school?" "Nope." "Are you coming home for thanksgiving?" "I don't know." Josephina breathes in a crackle over the phone. New York, a cacophony in the background. A background of cold, and people talking while walking while hailing a yellowcab with a left and slow-rolling heads locked onto the phones in their right. These people enter taxis, not knowing if they're ever going to reach home, or the airport, or union square, just going on the promise that they won't become road-kill. I can't feel it in my yellow apartment. If anything, my yellowcab idles. Through the receiver A squad car rings nervously, then after a lungful of garbage-smelling air, it becomes a full blare. A pause of noise always ensues, just for a second, the entire corner becomes a silent silo of human beings. "How's new york?" "you know, dad called me and asked about how to get on a diet, can you believe that?" Yes, I can dad is a fat **** a pink, white belly of a man. And a few sandbags for chins. "That's good." "So I'm not going to see you?" "Probably not." "Well, you should call dad, talk to him, he loves you." Some conversations, acheive nothing. The same tired, dead things get run over. Road-kill. Josephina believes she is the spatula that will bring back pancake squirrels and pancake relationships. As much as you don't know about me and dad's relationship, I can give you a kodak moment. A snapshot, of a hovering man, pointing at his son's neck, searching for the misplaced vertebrae, the lack of fear for the world --"the right kind of fear, the fear a man should have of himself"-- and a son, hunched, small hands in fists, a heavy haul of muscles pulled into a dark brow right over black eyes. This picture will suffice.
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98
Boundless dusk above forsaken intuitions Stones with ancient seeds Yet the roots can breathe The earthly exuberance                                                                               The naked secret of our song That manipulates my tounge Redden from you and I The contact of our lips Simulating my hunger for your groin The nerves of my vertebrates  harbor your weight As my breast shudder from your touch Primal delicious desires I thirst for  the fluids of your flesh With nurture and greed I moisten your fingers Help you find my sensitive  pearl Relishing the trail of the garden of youth Primal delicious desires explode in need Delicate softness of my mystical place Lifting my body with much response As my fingers dance, pinch and **** at my peaks Repeatedly as you   ****** me I gasp and beg for your caress I shudder as I chase my wave Reaching as I whimper into a ****** Simulating my hunger for your groin Inflaming my pores I enlarge you ever so slow Working my hands holding you from behind One swift lick of your rigid flesh You pull in a lungful of air Your hot flesh started to grow I ease you into my mouth Circling as you keep the pace Against me you put me in deep The sweet taste of you makes me weak Intense intervals underneath Between your thighs Intoxicating the very layers of my juice I enlarge you once again Moist and ready I open my sweetness just for you As I arch down onto you Your hands rest on my hips I begin to feel my flower grow A whispering rouse escapes from my lungs We flow inside each another Deeper in my heat Your aggressive arousal Provoking me to quiver The barrier surrenders to you and I Vivid blossoms of tranquil harmony Through the gateway of my womanhood As you nurish the nutrients you covet for My protruding pale pink buds Plump with need I'd hollow out to place you inside I'd linger in this universe to pave your delicious desire As you surrender  pushing me down You penetrate my mouth once again As you reclaim my mouth soft and pink
0
Jun 19, 2013
Jun 19, 2013 at 6:59 PM UTC
Inflaming My Pores (Adult Content)
Boundless dusk above forsaken intuitions Stones with ancient seeds Yet the roots can breathe The earthly exuberance                                                                               The naked secret of our song That manipulates my tounge Redden from you and I The contact of our lips Simulating my hunger for your groin The nerves of my vertebrates  harbor your weight As my breast shudder from your touch Primal delicious desires I thirst for  the fluids of your flesh With nurture and greed I moisten your fingers Help you find my sensitive  pearl Relishing the trail of the garden of youth Primal delicious desires explode in need Delicate softness of my mystical place Lifting my body with much response As my fingers dance, pinch and **** at my peaks Repeatedly as you   ****** me I gasp and beg for your caress I shudder as I chase my wave Reaching as I whimper into a ****** Simulating my hunger for your groin Inflaming my pores I enlarge you ever so slow Working my hands holding you from behind One swift lick of your rigid flesh You pull in a lungful of air Your hot flesh started to grow I ease you into my mouth Circling as you keep the pace Against me you put me in deep The sweet taste of you makes me weak Intense intervals underneath Between your thighs Intoxicating the very layers of my juice I enlarge you once again Moist and ready I open my sweetness just for you As I arch down onto you Your hands rest on my hips I begin to feel my flower grow A whispering rouse escapes from my lungs We flow inside each another Deeper in my heat Your aggressive arousal Provoking me to quiver The barrier surrenders to you and I Vivid blossoms of tranquil harmony Through the gateway of my womanhood As you nurish the nutrients you covet for My protruding pale pink buds Plump with need I'd hollow out to place you inside I'd linger in this universe to pave your delicious desire As you surrender  pushing me down You penetrate my mouth once again As you reclaim my mouth soft and pink
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61
A One sided women She walks, stands, and waits to see the radiation that captivates her heart which skips a beat every time. As she wanders all she can do is look over what see desires but cannot have. 'The lust of the warmth around her arms and waist is just a dream. Only the temporary sights and glances that passes her without a doubt captures the butterflies that flies around her stomach and mind. Trying her best not to notice but every where she goes, when she closes her eyes all she sees is what was meant to be. A visionary photo graph of what would be the sweetest future and wish she gravitates to have and to hold. Isolated Nights longing for the touch and tastes of bitter sweet dreams. For only two lungful arms to wrap around tightly as she sleeps soundly and shamelessly. But only a mist of reality, bursting into a light that wakens her. It had got to the over whelming point that boils her fearing heart of compassion that lies within her confusion of collapsing blocks that trembled to her feet. Blushing flesh covered to hide her mask of longing affection. She waits and waits until the dreadful days of days come quickly in her distance gasps of time. Knowingly it comes to the end and what all seems to be hopeless she finds what gives her the ability to withstand her days of living this reality of a place that humans call a world to live onto. A beauty undiscovered by others but only she notices such a treasure that is not worth all the money or air in the whole universe. Her 2nd life. As said before only she sees it. A one sided forbidden desire that only notices as an equal to humans. What exactly is it that she sees so much depth of unrequited lust to go forth on such a useless task. Blinding as it may seem it’s all she cares to fall or to stand up to her it’s worth the extra steps and painful regrets that takes her place. Even the opposing forces of beings may disagree but are there really any wrong answers? Just the thought counts and care that lingers away to words and quotes. Tell me, will this be another mistake?
0
Dec 26, 2011
Dec 26, 2011 at 1:00 AM UTC
A one sided woman
A One sided women She walks, stands, and waits to see the radiation that captivates her heart which skips a beat every time. As she wanders all she can do is look over what see desires but cannot have. 'The lust of the warmth around her arms and waist is just a dream. Only the temporary sights and glances that passes her without a doubt captures the butterflies that flies around her stomach and mind. Trying her best not to notice but every where she goes, when she closes her eyes all she sees is what was meant to be. A visionary photo graph of what would be the sweetest future and wish she gravitates to have and to hold. Isolated Nights longing for the touch and tastes of bitter sweet dreams. For only two lungful arms to wrap around tightly as she sleeps soundly and shamelessly. But only a mist of reality, bursting into a light that wakens her. It had got to the over whelming point that boils her fearing heart of compassion that lies within her confusion of collapsing blocks that trembled to her feet. Blushing flesh covered to hide her mask of longing affection. She waits and waits until the dreadful days of days come quickly in her distance gasps of time. Knowingly it comes to the end and what all seems to be hopeless she finds what gives her the ability to withstand her days of living this reality of a place that humans call a world to live onto. A beauty undiscovered by others but only she notices such a treasure that is not worth all the money or air in the whole universe. Her 2nd life. As said before only she sees it. A one sided forbidden desire that only notices as an equal to humans. What exactly is it that she sees so much depth of unrequited lust to go forth on such a useless task. Blinding as it may seem it’s all she cares to fall or to stand up to her it’s worth the extra steps and painful regrets that takes her place. Even the opposing forces of beings may disagree but are there really any wrong answers? Just the thought counts and care that lingers away to words and quotes. Tell me, will this be another mistake?
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22
I breathe in deep. And yet you keep having me chase the next as if a lungful wasn’t enough.
0
Oct 19, 2022
Oct 19, 2022 at 9:11 AM UTC
Gasping
A whirlpool of thoughts swirled as I slowly jogged around the park. Amid the futile struggle of light, against the approaching dark. To never let go of the strings of past, as stubborn as a flickering flame. The road ahead mirrors the bygones. We needn't look far for the blame. The crushing burden of modern life; facing the music with his head unbowed. He gets on his feet with wounded knees, and smiles at the succumbing crowd. Innumerable choices present themselves, as many as the peppered stars, abundant. Each with unfathomable potential, yet the path chosen invariably redundant. He walks about the infinite desert; the scalding ache of complete isolation. He covets the presence of a nearby soul, whose essence is but a mere reflection. I drew in a lungful of evening air; the immediate difference, so stark! Yielding to the juggernaut of conformity, as I slowly jogged around the park.
0
Jul 13, 2010
Jul 13, 2010 at 8:59 AM UTC
The Park
IVs and a cannulas that bind you to a bed that isn’t yours, we are twisted-sick, playing God, if only for a moment. Your freckled hand barred tighter around mine, drawing my eyes to the bruises that seemingly seep through blood-flecked gauze. Every breath a shiver, every shiver, a heartbeat closer and each lungful sharper than the last. I can feel dwindling stars so impenetrably far away, sweltering, boundless, shaking-free as they please. With your waning smile, that nearly masked your anguish, we are taking on space now, just us, we are the atoms that make up our universe, we are unstable and we are collapsing and we are, expanding and growing and we are, bursting with what little life we have left.
0
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 1:00 AM UTC
Bound & Boundless
I’m tired of watching. Gaping at this cinematic reality as it slowly sinks into my sensitive skin like hot rocks on a not-so-relaxing Sunday morning. Disappointment after disappointment, I tap my foot with impatience, awaiting a ship that never docks, yet instead, tantalizes me as it nears the harbor but changes its course midway. I’m limp, dangling over the wishing well in my bathroom that swallows as I heave; attempting to rid my body of all my pathetic hopes and expectations and watch as they are flushed down the toilet. You are a dagger and I have closed my eyes, preparing myself to die; allowing my flesh to surround your malicious blade as you pierce agonizingly through my shattering heart. I am (or was) a majestic sailboat and you are a bulwark placed dangerously in my path, resulting in a complete wreckage causing my sail to sink miserably to the bottom of the ocean. Tired of seeing. Watching each face blossom with happiness as my stems overflow with jealousy; I stare at the reflection of my forlorn face, painfully plucking each of my withering petals and allowing them to fall to the ground in defeat. Feeling my chakras disintegrate as my large intestine absorbs my heart that melted at the sight of your hands entwined with ones that aren’t mine. I’m suffocating, gasping for air as I hug myself until I am strangling my waist, searching for that comforting lungful of compassion. Tired of noticing. Releasing my last breath, I let go. Allowing my body to be consumed by the numbness that started at my heart as it froze.
0
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 7:10 AM UTC
Tired.
I’m tired of watching. Gaping at this cinematic reality as it slowly sinks into my sensitive skin like hot rocks on a not-so-relaxing Sunday morning. Disappointment after disappointment, I tap my foot with impatience, awaiting a ship that never docks, yet instead, tantalizes me as it nears the harbor but changes its course midway. I’m limp, dangling over the wishing well in my bathroom that swallows as I heave; attempting to rid my body of all my pathetic hopes and expectations and watch as they are flushed down the toilet. You are a dagger and I have closed my eyes, preparing myself to die; allowing my flesh to surround your malicious blade as you pierce agonizingly through my shattering heart. I am (or was) a majestic sailboat and you are a bulwark placed dangerously in my path, resulting in a complete wreckage causing my sail to sink miserably to the bottom of the ocean. Tired of seeing. Watching each face blossom with happiness as my stems overflow with jealousy; I stare at the reflection of my forlorn face, painfully plucking each of my withering petals and allowing them to fall to the ground in defeat. Feeling my chakras disintegrate as my large intestine absorbs my heart that melted at the sight of your hands entwined with ones that aren’t mine. I’m suffocating, gasping for air as I hug myself until I am strangling my waist, searching for that comforting lungful of compassion. Tired of noticing. Releasing my last breath, I let go. Allowing my body to be consumed by the numbness that started at my heart as it froze.
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12
I wrote your name on a cigarette. And smoked it on my balcony. Each lungful, thus ingested, lets you reside in me. Across the water Allhallows gleams, unknowing. Where, at some previous point we were separated by simple geography. If cigarettes were wishes I'd have died soon death, in rattling, emphysemic pursuit of long-lost love. Simple geography can never trump the complicated, honest reality of time and place. The cigarette glows in my hand reminding me that, as love, time veils promises however potent. There are only eight cigarettes left in the whole world. Perhaps I'll leave them, growing stale in their hidden box. Or, maybe, I'll smoke them all today. Then forget what I ought to have forgot. For sake of placid honesty and goodwill, told in truth. Time is a lying healer and I'm on a liar's oath.
0
Aug 24, 2013
Aug 24, 2013 at 9:35 AM UTC
Ten Cigarettes
a moment ago: I was born, gasped my first lungful of air. a moment ago: I took my first steps, uttered my first words. a moment ago: I realised I could disagree with what I was told to know. a moment ago: I began to doubt my own hypotheses. a moment ago: I loved you with every sense and every emotion. a moment ago: you rejected that love, casting me to despair. a moment ago: I realised I could never trust those who feigned to care. a moment ago: I left this life to its bitter devices. a moment ago: you expressed regret. now the moment has passed ...
0
Sep 23, 2012
Sep 23, 2012 at 11:40 AM UTC
An exposition on a life
*He built houses out of Tiny twigs Along the etched lines On the palms of his Rugged hands To give me somewhere To call home again* They say most things are better, When shared with another. Well, No one else comes to mind when I think of The ideal and only person I would be willing to share All of my love with. All of my life My joy My sorrow My everything. He is the ultimate answer Love is the ultimate answer He and love They are the same And they are Everywhere In everything In every ounce of my boiling blood And every fraction Of every fiber In my timid being. He is overwhelming In the same way in which it feels To be in a beautiful foreign country For the first time He is addicting Like the first three (And next four) Cigarettes you smoke After telling everyone you have quit He is irresistible Just like that One certain scent The one that always brings A flashflood of memories And feelings And beauty And safety Back up to surface until Every inch of your skin Is tingling With raw sensation A thirst explodes out of the deepest part of you As it brings you back *To the very last time you ever felt something so special* Which is exactly the reason You will do anything in your will To get One more lungful Just to bring you back To that beautifully indescribable place One more time *He crocheted me with kisses And wooed me with words Penetrating the years of fear and hurt Built like a fortress around my heart And sending every nerve in my body Into a ****** tangent. Under the right light, It's as if I am adorned With flowers* Because of him.
0
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 12:40 PM UTC
The Answer Of It All
*He built houses out of Tiny twigs Along the etched lines On the palms of his Rugged hands To give me somewhere To call home again* They say most things are better, When shared with another. Well, No one else comes to mind when I think of The ideal and only person I would be willing to share All of my love with. All of my life My joy My sorrow My everything. He is the ultimate answer Love is the ultimate answer He and love They are the same And they are Everywhere In everything In every ounce of my boiling blood And every fraction Of every fiber In my timid being. He is overwhelming In the same way in which it feels To be in a beautiful foreign country For the first time He is addicting Like the first three (And next four) Cigarettes you smoke After telling everyone you have quit He is irresistible Just like that One certain scent The one that always brings A flashflood of memories And feelings And beauty And safety Back up to surface until Every inch of your skin Is tingling With raw sensation A thirst explodes out of the deepest part of you As it brings you back *To the very last time you ever felt something so special* Which is exactly the reason You will do anything in your will To get One more lungful Just to bring you back To that beautifully indescribable place One more time *He crocheted me with kisses And wooed me with words Penetrating the years of fear and hurt Built like a fortress around my heart And sending every nerve in my body Into a ****** tangent. Under the right light, It's as if I am adorned With flowers* Because of him.
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72
Gunshots pierce the silence of the yawning night, In the subterranean abyss of the subway A young life ebbs into the filth strewn sewer, It is a girl, fair and beautiful with black locks, Her violator pockets the still smoking weapon and zips up, He spits, looks over his shoulder and lights a cigarette, He inhales deeply and in his nostrils he can taste her sweet perfume, The memory orchestrates a smile Which once again compels him to look down at her still warm body, Upon her dress and glistening legs the blood is beginning to congeal, Her eyes are sightless but they mirror his image in the dead sockets, He takes another lungful of her succulent youth And then slithers and melts into the anonymous jaws of the city, His ***** are still encrusted with hunger And the night is yet young and tender, His teeth glint by the light of the neon signs. ©Rangzeb Hussain
0
Apr 13, 2010
Apr 13, 2010 at 4:15 PM UTC
Urban Jungle
The captain stood solemnly recieving what he saw with stark indifference the dark clouds towered above his tiny ship he drank deep in the danger taking a lungful of air he finally let himself see his crew they were frightened this invigorated him but he did not want it to he had always taken pleasure in being "The Captain" hoping when hope was lost to other men lesser men but he knew deep down there was nothing lesser about these particular men he also knew they would all die presently he parted his lips to begin his final oration
0
Jul 9, 2010
Jul 9, 2010 at 10:17 AM UTC
TO THE END
Once again the sound of magpies hunting fills my head with images of daylight and picnics we took under ash trees on top of itchy blankets I know you only read those books for me to make me feel safe in having something to say when the conversations turned to salaries and mortgages or maybe that's unkind. Maybe you just wanted to understand me better when the four ninety-nine red wine reaches me I taking about the poems I'm writing grape glazed eyes stare, squinting through the sun, trying not to smile. They move on when we are alone again we still pretend I lie about the friends I met for coffee and you tell me that I look beautiful I wonder if you know the way we sleep I hope not and that you'll never ask why I crawl out of the sheets when sleep has taken you I sleep on the floor and slip back beside you just before you wake we never mention doctors or pills and you know not to hug me too tight I make tea for both of us even though we don't drink it. It's hard to shake off the words our mothers said about a cup curing everything when the birds are still, I open the window and think of flying, to have a body light enough to break free of the mind I take my first lungful of air but you reach out and hold me where my wings should be (they're broken now) and I realise I'm not the only one who pretends to be asleep you wrap me up like old glass in soft blankets slip another book off my bedside table into your bag and don't cry until you've shut the door
0
Jul 20, 2013
Jul 20, 2013 at 5:01 AM UTC
Ennui
Never shall I forget that day , the moment you stolen my heart instantly, Which skipped a beat, every time. I thought my intentions were simple and dull, At first... But as my days with you grew , my knees trembled with emotions, my eyes glimmered with a desire so bright, A sinful demand arose from within the unknown part of my shameful guilt, A cascading wish, Lingering thoughts hidden in the shadows, My hidden feelings for you were bursting out uncontrollable, Yearning for your heavenly voice and delicate touch just became unbearable, It was an obsession, A dose of drug that I needed daily, The cure for it was your smile, Infatuated with a smile that melted away my stress and replace it with the unthinkable, My heart was so fond and captivated by your presents', without a doubt captured the butterflies that fluttered around my stomach and mind, A visionary photograph of what would be the sweetest future and wish, gravitating to have and to hold, Isolated nights longing for a breath taking sensation and tastes of bitter sweet dreams, For only two lungful arms to wrap around tightly while sleeping soundly and shamelessly, Then bursting into a light that wakens one's sleep, To start all over again, Or not.. It was today, It was different, Everything stopped in it's steps, We made a great escape from left to right, To our secret base, Our home, It was a scene from a classic fairy tale, You came to me in a different light, Was it real? An encounter of embrace that illuminates the clear sighs of happiness, finally awoke me and into reality, That was the moment I knew you had to be mine, I realized, I needed you in my life, I wanted you to fall in love with me, All I wish to see is your indication that you are happy as can be, Most of all, a part of your heart, which has has always belonged to you, my love. These words will last forever. To be continued.... Our story will never end.
0
Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 2:39 PM UTC
My gift for you.
Never shall I forget that day , the moment you stolen my heart instantly, Which skipped a beat, every time. I thought my intentions were simple and dull, At first... But as my days with you grew , my knees trembled with emotions, my eyes glimmered with a desire so bright, A sinful demand arose from within the unknown part of my shameful guilt, A cascading wish, Lingering thoughts hidden in the shadows, My hidden feelings for you were bursting out uncontrollable, Yearning for your heavenly voice and delicate touch just became unbearable, It was an obsession, A dose of drug that I needed daily, The cure for it was your smile, Infatuated with a smile that melted away my stress and replace it with the unthinkable, My heart was so fond and captivated by your presents', without a doubt captured the butterflies that fluttered around my stomach and mind, A visionary photograph of what would be the sweetest future and wish, gravitating to have and to hold, Isolated nights longing for a breath taking sensation and tastes of bitter sweet dreams, For only two lungful arms to wrap around tightly while sleeping soundly and shamelessly, Then bursting into a light that wakens one's sleep, To start all over again, Or not.. It was today, It was different, Everything stopped in it's steps, We made a great escape from left to right, To our secret base, Our home, It was a scene from a classic fairy tale, You came to me in a different light, Was it real? An encounter of embrace that illuminates the clear sighs of happiness, finally awoke me and into reality, That was the moment I knew you had to be mine, I realized, I needed you in my life, I wanted you to fall in love with me, All I wish to see is your indication that you are happy as can be, Most of all, a part of your heart, which has has always belonged to you, my love. These words will last forever. To be continued.... Our story will never end.
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47
fingers (and legs) lace tight together. i can feel our time together seeping through the cracks. and i know that once daylight breaks and rose petals lead me all the way home, existence will be just one lungful of air away. (but you’ve left me breathless once again, darling.)
0
Dec 5, 2010
Dec 5, 2010 at 10:46 AM UTC
breathless
The carrion birds are circling overhead and I’m dragging my half dead body down a deserted street thinking to myself this is when the credits roll for me and I’m not so sure I’ve the energy to mind but then there is the ghost of your hand brushing against my cheek and oh oh god I could cry for wanting you. I breathe in a deep gasping lungful of air I’d just convinced myself I wouldn’t miss because someday someday maybe soon I might be able to take that air from you I might be able to turn my head and brush my mouth with yours in a disbelieving caress to touch your lips with just the tip of my tongue in abject adoration of you. And oh just the thought of it just the force of my want has frightened away the vultures again. My body is still half dead but my heart bangs on for you for you for you
0
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 11:52 PM UTC
for you for you for you
You make me go back to the beach The light breeze your caress Sun as warm as your smile Water icy like your words And I try to float in this sea you made Tumultuous, and salty as your are But I'm choking down lungful's Crying for help And you let me drown And it's almost calm down here On the bottom where I can't breathe Cause at least I'm out Of the riptide's reach
0
Mar 20, 2019
Mar 20, 2019 at 2:42 PM UTC
I CANT SWIM
Love is Taking a long refreshing lungful of air As though for the first time Only when with them Love is Placing your heart in their caging hands Only to give them the power to crush it Love is Sharing with them your sacred soul and brain Only To have it shredded and butchered by them Love is Feeling them put you back together gently With soothing words and gestures So that they can rip you apart again sadistically Love is Watching them commit all these crimes Yet not having the will or want to stop them
0
Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 1:08 PM UTC
Love is....
Mary Moran rolls a cigarette between fingers and thumbs, liberated tobacco and paper from her da's pocket, if he knew he'd belt her behind, she licks the paper end with her damp tongue, rolls it thin and lights it up with a Swan Vesta stole from her ma's kitchen box, Magdalene she'd met at the coffee bar had a laugh talked of Sister Bridget and the priest and some going ons, sweet Mags gazed at her placed a hand on her thigh talked of her da, the smoke rises from the ciggie skyward cloud like, Martha sat sipping her coffee ********* her rosary in the bar like Brian fingers my bra strap the loon, Mary knows what Brian is after he's more chance of the pox than that she muses watching the smoke twirl as it touches the roof of the greenhouse glass, if Da found me now he'd tan my *** she muses inhaling deeper lungful drag, the priest in confessions (the old boy)nigh on had a heart attack when she confessed the weeks worth, spluttering she heard through the wire mesh of the confessional, Magdalene wants me to go listen to LPs on her record player in her room away from her da and ma and their moans and groans, Martha with her blue eyes stared at the crucifix on her rosary like a lovesick cow as they sipped their coffee and yakked of the priest and nun and imagined fun.
0
Dec 29, 2015
Dec 29, 2015 at 10:18 AM UTC
TIPPERARY MARY 1963.
I am nothing but embers in the fire pit of your heart a Godless girl, kissing with tongues, skin burning at the touch of a weather beaten man I fell for you, headfirst into the abyss of desire warmth rising from my toes, through to my finger - tips inhaling the scent of you by the lungful my capacity is called on, and I am a Phoenix stunted, hatched too soon, eternally shell - less
0
Sep 8, 2016
Sep 8, 2016 at 5:02 PM UTC
Phoenix