"makeout" poems
somehow all neighborhood tribes & tribe lords love you.
somehow you beat my score on the nickelcade spaced invaders.
we leap fences
in escape of party befouled
cops. crusaders
of mustache & veiny hate.
you rip your jeans
& lose your artifacts in the creek. into
convenience store warm lights
& makeout mixtapes.
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 3:31 PM UTC
our first space date will be in over 20 years or maybe even a lot more
we'll be traveling at the speed of light
i'll be holding ur hand and then we arrive at saturns rings
i pull out the picnic basket and we have a picnic on the second biggest planet in our solar system !!
while we're eating i kiss ur cheek and tell you i love you
we fly out to the local galactic group and observe the andromeda galaxy, the second most beautiful thing ive ever seen
and then we makeout for like 20 minutes and then we travel back to planet earth
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 4:33 PM UTC
I'm sorry that I hadn't met you sooner
I'm not sorry that I've met you now
I'm sorry that you feel pain from guilt
I'm not sorry that I pulled you in close
I'm sorry you don't know what happened
I'm not sorry you then kissed me back
I'm sorry that I don't want her to know
I'm not sorry that she doesn't know, now
I'm sorry you have a girlfriend
I'm not sorry for kissing you goodnight
I'm sorry you aren't single now
I'm not sorry I'll see you again, one night
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 12:55 AM UTC
Saturday's
Why are they so important?
Why do they mean so much?
Last Saturday I was at a bar talking to Canadians at a bachelor party--one of which bought me drinks all night and wanted to makeout with me.
The Saturday before that I went out with some friends I hadn't seen in a long time.
And before that, I went out with my friends to this area that had so many bars filled with people who drank themselves into stupors--kind of like I did the Saturday before that one.
I was dumped. So I drank--a lot I drank. That Saturday was a mess.
But tonight is Saturday and I didn't want to do anything, yet I felt like I should. So I did. I went to a friend's house to drink, but I didn't go out. I felt tipsy, I felt surrounded by friends, but I also felt sad.
He was out. He was happy. And he definitely was probably not sad.
But I was.
It's funny how break ups work--they make you question even the smallest things, like the purpose of Saturday's, ya know?
Jul 9, 2017
Jul 9, 2017 at 1:28 AM UTC
Drugs and thugs
Nightmares and hugs
All we do is get ****** up
Maybe it's a turn of luck
We'll regret it later but I wanna live for now
It's just *** and makeout
Our lives are ******* fun
Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 8:49 PM UTC
Cute, sweet boy
his eyes light up and gaze
yes, ******* gaze
like I'm some beautiful princess or wonderful mind
when you drunkenly look down into me
and it feels great
like I'm a human
your human
and I want you to wrap me up in your arms and tell me how you love things
maybe teach me some more guitar
tell me how I have the prettiest face and the blondest hair again
wait
why aren't you being so forward anymore?
This is the last time we will be together
why aren't you kissing me?
You tried the other night
I resisted
I was afraid:
of being a *****
of a kiss leading to more
but now I'm ready
I want the kiss and you're being a gentleman
you take me to my house and tuck me nicely in
then kiss me goodnight
just once and say see ya
I ask for another
you sigh and give in
but I want more
and more and more and more and more
until you're all gone
but what?
You left me
tucked up tightly so that I can't even chase after you
you're gone alright
never again to look into me like I'm great
never to make me feel special
I wanted you, you know
I looked forward to you
wanted you to touch me all over
would have made you feel like a stud
but no
I had my chance to fulfill my "needs"
and I acted like you owed me ****
like respect
I really just wanted to makeout
and cuddle
but no
I was afraid
and now you're gone
****
only **** boy to show interest
and now you'll only make my heart sad.
Jun 23, 2012
Jun 23, 2012 at 6:35 PM UTC
Transvestites handing
Out caffeine
Coffee cross dressing
Blonde wig
Chiseled features
Red dress
Peacock out to compare feathers
Coffee, you had me at
Coffee
Black Roast
Espresso beans and water
"Bean Juice" I've heard it called
Make-up to makeout
(Daddy Issues Alike)
Peacock left me be
Take my coffee and leave
Feb 15, 2013
Feb 15, 2013 at 2:49 PM UTC
I remember walking in,
taking a shot
and taking off my clothes
I remember being the first one in the pool.
I remember him asking if I was
"just going to hang out in a wet bikini
for the rest of the night"
I remember telling him yes
and him responding
"I am more than okay with that."
I remember playing never have I ever
and losing within the first five minutes
I remember a group of boys chanting
at me and Emily to "kiss! kiss! kiss! kiss!"
I remember playing beer pong
with ***** instead
I remember checking the time
and not giving a **** about
going home
I remember a baby-faced boy
who'd never been kissed
I remember him asking me "Wanna makeout?"
I remember saying yes, I remember following him
to the tennis courts and taking off my bikini
I remember getting on my knees,
but let's say I don't remember
what happened next
Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 2:06 AM UTC
I miss you more than anything
I miss you like M for
M e m o r i e s
like the time we painted the walls of my room lavender and
danced to music that reminded us of
love.
I miss you like I for
I n t e n s e
like how my love for you was so profound
my heart leapt when you sang and
it shattered when you cried.
like how I always wanted you closer
hugging tighter
kissing deeper
my arm wrapped around the back of your neck so I never had
to let you go.
I miss you like S for
S c a r e d
like how I was terrified to watch you walk down the hall
after we ended things the first time.
like how I'm scared of my feelings
scared of wanting you back.
I miss you like S for
S c a r s
Like the identical scars we both have on
our hearts
that remind of how things used to be
and how different they are from now.
like the scars that we healed from that time
when we both bled out
slicing ourselves deep to feel the pain
rush out of our bodies like an exhale.
I miss you like
*c o m e
b a c k
t o
m e*
"I'm sorry," you say " but I just can't do that."
*now he says "I miss you more than anything"
he misses me like* M for
Makeout
like the way he awkwardly mistakes the sloppiness for passion.
he misses me like I for
I like you
*like in the way that he feels it
stronger than I ever will.*
he misses me like S for
Saturdays
*because to him, the days without me
go by so slowly.*
he misses me like S for
songs
*like the songs that remind him of me
taking his heart at fifteen
loving everything about me*
I'm sorry, but I just don't feel that way.
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 11:17 AM UTC
and we went in your moms Honda
and i called you baby the whole way and
you loved it and
we spoke some deep ish for a while about the past rather than the future
we’re both afraid for what earth has in store for us
i reassured you that i have and always will love you
and then i touched a nerve
and you didn’t want to kiss me anymore
so i kinda just watched the moon past the hill
on a boulder
and looked at the city
as a couple ants started crawling up on one of my shoelaces
we both thought about how we could’ve been kissing already.
but we’re both somewhat stubborn so none of us brought it up.
so i walked down the stupid hill
as you played with your bracelet.
Aug 17, 2018
Aug 17, 2018 at 9:38 PM UTC
she was a peregrine
& appeared to me
shimmering in the
primordial morning
between purgatory & hell
talons like a crucial valve-handle
carrying me outside the gaudy dream
my heart's vagrancy
the latent tendency i had
of putting chemicals into my body
despite the ugly consequences
one man's poison
another man's high
now sunlight fractures into spectra
wind blows thru century-old oaks
becomes tangled in my
nipple-length blond hair
as we march hand-in-hand thru
these narrow streets
the pinched labyrinth
the last dusk light
this swamp
she was a peregrine
the hungarian turul
genteel brown eyes watching me
howl at the midnight moon
& yip like a fox at the first dawn light
now she shares her own
breathy yelps with the pillow
like fumes of lavender
sprayed in a strand of oaks
i know for a fact she has claws
she swore she'd never use them to hurt me
but sometimes i let her anyway
i need to feel those
dead fingernails buried
in my living shoulder-blades
propelling me into a new kind of manhood
redeeming my weaknesses
weaseling into my shorts
pains & insecurities
melting like cloud's spit down the windowpane
lazy & safe on a warm sunday
morning wrapped together in the skin
of this gyrating palace
this is no longer casual desire:
joni mitchell sound-tracked
our first makeout sesh
as stars bloomed fat
behind a surly multitude of clouds
over a tar-colored lake
so if you think i'm ever letting her go
you're a *******
pants-on-fire
Aug 21, 2016
Aug 21, 2016 at 3:48 PM UTC
Deep breathing
Dance
Polish off your *****
Dance
Jello shot
Stumble
Where are my friends?
Dance
Its so hot in here
Three more shots
**I'm ******
Drunk
Makeout with a random guy
Ooo, there's wine
Two glasses
Black out
Throwing up in the sink
Friend is on the toilet peeing for the sixth time in the past hour
Makeup check
Compliment me or I'll complain
Dance
Grind on what appears to be a hot guy
Party Boy
Makeout
**Wanna ****
Climb to the roof
There's a couch
He's too drunk to get hard
What are fingers for?
Someone comes up
Your caught in the act
Embarrassed
He wants to take you home
You agree
Why?
You don't want to go home
Cigarette
Meet his friends
Blurred vision
Slurred speech
***
Terrible
Wake up
Headache
Nausea
Shower
Get home
Take better shower
Water
Sleep
Sleep
Sleep
Go to class
Wait until next weekend.
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 1:19 PM UTC
The age-old rhetorical question:
bask in hedonism or preserve innocense?
Shamelessly flirt
and makeout with hotties on the beach
or stay quiet and "moral,"
which is really code for "I'm afraid?"
Is a kiss with a stranger
really a kiss?
Or merely brushing lips against other lips,
maybe accidently,
gently,
couldn't be any harm, right?
Or would my first kiss with a stranger who holds no relevence to my life
be a life-long regret?
Would not cutting loose and being "loose" be a regret too?
So uptight
my hair is forever permed,
let it down and lank
will I still be me?
Would I still have self-respect?
Would others respect me?
Urges are strong
but will they ruin everything?
Jun 5, 2012
Jun 5, 2012 at 6:07 PM UTC
All the sleepless nights,
All the time wasted,
All the that I thought I needed,
To makeout or kiss,
This is what you wanted,
Partying,
going wild,
But life for you was always better 'mild',
Calm,
Collected,
Introspective thoughts and emotions,
What happens when you've lost it all?
Hope and faith,
Eyes fill with tears cause in the end,
Between the parties and the laughs,
All that was lost,
All that was missing,
All that you ever wanted,
All that I needed was
To figure out who I am.
My identity.
Jan 16, 2016
Jan 16, 2016 at 11:42 PM UTC
I fell in love
with you for a minute
on a stranger's couch
funny
whip its
with a derby girl
a shameless makeout
sesh
in front of another
lesbian and a couple
strange bodies
disconnected
poetry
and some ***** in
a plastic cup
stolen metal chairs
in various colors
her braids
her shaved head
a symphony
to my defeat
I'm half-way out the door
but I can't get up off
this couch
she's taking my key
and pretty soon my car is gone
my so-called girlfriend
leaves me tearstained
voicemails
but while you're
here your lips
make me forget
every promise
I made this girl
she said
where you go I go
how quickly we forget
when we find ourselves
in the arms of another
and just like everything
else the promise disappears
an evaporated drop of
rain from the side window
of my re-poed car
I need to get that ink off
I need to get inked
to sober up before A.A.
to eat before this adderall
eats my insides
I want to feel a
lot more full
a lot more *******
full
say goodbye
you never knew me
a $2 bus ride
takes me where
I need to be
freezing hands
and the itchy
scars I sliced
into my arm
in the wrong
place the wrong
direction
I was never right to
begin with
a text message at
2AM "stay safe"
that's the extent
to which I'm cared
for
and that's good
enough for me
just so long as I
can afford smokes
and the key to
my car is safely
under the mat
Mar 21, 2012
Mar 21, 2012 at 4:11 PM UTC
Boy crazy,
texting addictions,
making new friends,
losing old ones,
parties,
makeout sessions,
sneaking out,
skipping with buds.
8th Graders '10 :D
Mar 25, 2010
Mar 25, 2010 at 5:35 AM UTC
Your first love is meant to be sweet
Gumdrops
Bubblegum
shared chocolates
and giggles
Texting late into the night,
long after we were meant to go to bed
Your heart skipping a beat when a notification from That Person appears
Holding hands
Sharing popcorn
knowing each other's favorite snacks
Your first love is meant to be gentle
making snow angels
pillow fights
watching your favorite movies
stolen kisses
and fumbling through your first makeout session together
like the love-drunk kids you are
Sometimes when I tell people about the things that defined our love
They get scared
They ask if I'm okay
They wonder why I stuck around
I guess when it's your first love,
you can't tell that it's painfully sour
because you've never tasted something sweet before
From C.C.
Apr 24, 2017
Apr 24, 2017 at 10:43 PM UTC
My romeo
You've been all I got
All ferocity I had
Phantasm all over my head
All I hear is your moan in my bed
A pure lust to be said
And a first blood to be shed
is it okay to be you modern mia khalifa?
and makeout in the sofa
Till the endless night
and ends in a cuddles so tight
mellifluous sound from his mouth
when all I can do is to shout
a night to remember
till I spend my life with him forever
Sep 1, 2017
Sep 1, 2017 at 9:07 AM UTC
an utterance of folly
her natural unvarnished thoughts
spill slowly from her adorned lip
and crawl forth to battle his opposing view
her words crowd his ear
a thousand angry little versions of her
with sword in hand coming to slay the misbehaving dragon
of his free will
his own thoughts flee as one
from the opposite side ear
with furtive glances back
hoping to escape unscathed
his own folly
childlike in form
plays marbles
looking for that elusive Aggie
called inner peace
together they amble down
country road
both shouting the random formulas
for completing and mailing
the required forms for
a visa to paradise
its roads are paved with candy
she insists
its hills are carved from
pure chocolate he interjects
neither realize its paradise because
it lacks the likes of them
he kisses her adorned lip
and tastes the metal of her
resolve to endure
she french's her tongue into
the small spaces of his mind
and savors the spices of his
need to flee
whats needed here they devise
compromise is a plate of cold fish
seal it in a bottle and cast it overboard
perhaps their lives shall find a sandy shore
to rest their every weary
makeout machine
Oct 17, 2013
Oct 17, 2013 at 6:30 AM UTC
we have infinite potential lives
i can almost see how my life would play out with her
we would decide to hang out and watch mindless tv
shifting closer and closer to each other, side-eyeing when the other isn't watching; but we're both secretly watching each other instead of the show
i don't know how i'd bring it up that i'm into her, or even remotely have an idea on how i'd make a move
but in this infinite possibility world, i could figure it out
we'd keep it casual at first, just the occasional sleepover turned into a makeout session, then maybe further
we wouldn't tell our parents and the door would be closed
we'd probably tell our close friends, but not the whole school
we'd be lying in bed together one night at 3 am
when she'd ask me if i wanted to be something more, if i liked her that way
but how could i not?
she was special, passionate, always friendly always compassionate and this strange type of beauty that you just don't find down the street
i'd tell her of course, and maybe we'd tell more people and walk in public hand in hand
i can see it
i don't know if we would last
but i know i would cherish our time forever
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 8:05 PM UTC
sneak into my room
and crawl into my bed
you are tired
and i don't want to be alone
in the morning
we will leave in your car
you drive
while i look at you from the passenger seat
you like when i take photos of you
but i'd rather write about you
remember that parking lot behind the abandoned convenience store
i left home without telling my friends
they don't get it
you're always tired
and i have to fend for myself
i open the glove compartment of your car
a stack of photos
poems are written on the back
you remember the parking lot promise
the last photo is of that night before we left
with only a caption
"i don't want to let you down"
May 2, 2016
May 2, 2016 at 2:23 PM UTC
one day a few years from now
you'll remember her and how
you loved each other genuinely,
passionately
the both of you were so crazy in love and a few years from now,
when you think you've forgotten about all of that -
about the way her fingers curled around your own without hesitation,
how when you told her jokes she erupted into a belly full of contagious laughter, her smile splitting her face in two like an equator,
how when you slept, she'd reach across the bed for you, mumble your name until you kissed her back to sleep,
how that day it rained so hard the streets flooded, she pulled you outside just to makeout on the grass, you both were soaked to the bone in seconds, thunder shaking the ground so hard you felt it roaring through your spine, electrifying.
how although she was absolutely insane,
she was gentle.
she was soft and small; strong; powerful. when the world upset her she shrank into a fraction of herself,
exposed, raw, vulnerable.
she was real, and what the two of you had was real; it was real and it mattered and it was important,
but years from now when you remember all of this,
it will be 4 A.M.
you happened, you loved that storm of a girl heavy and hard and it changed both of your worlds for the better, it won't ever be the same,
you'll find yourself looking for parts of her in everyone you meet -
subconsciously comparing the softness of her lips and the weight of her heart in your hands to every new girl that comes your way,
only to walk away feeling even emptier than before.
she is the tangible definition of irreplaceable. the fact of the matter is that the tree of her memory bears the branches of truth, and the truth is that none of this will matter.
years later, when you remember all of this,
it will already be too late.
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 9:16 PM UTC
They say "you can't go home again"
I dismissed the thought; believed that I could return to the town that I once
rode through on my beach cruiser,
walked through with my friends,
utilized poor construction sites as makeout spots
"I've come home", he sings
but if there is one thing that I believe my mother was right in saying is
that this is all geography
That perhaps is the scariest thought of all;
that I don't yet know where by home is or who will fill rooms with music
and enjoy the elusiveness of life with
I've come home
but not in the way he means it
I have come home to my teenage broken heart--and its perpetrator
I have come home to a house where I was on month-long bed rests
I have come home to a structure that is seemingly not mine
I suppose I wish it wasn't true;
that you can't go home again
and things are ever changing...
that is something we must accept as we grow older
When I truly think about it though, I don't know that I would want to return to my once "home"
I think I just wish I had one.
Dec 24, 2015
Dec 24, 2015 at 2:05 AM UTC
*We have always had that undeniable type of love
You know?
Whenever asked about one another, our cheeks would turn bright pink
And just as our lips curled upward to smile,
sweet words escaped from our mouth, no matter how tightly we tried to seal our smile
Who ever we ended up talking to
had to think our lover put all the stars in the sky
by the endless praise we gave one another
The kind of love that stained your sheets,
despite how clean they were
Our pictures have voices, next to our smiles you can hear us screaming "I love you...I love you with all I am"
Our voices became love,
we, in everything we do, have become love
The kind of love that made us encounter multiple strangers,
just so they could inform us of our obvious happiness and glee
I hope you never get new sheets
I hope you never bite me out from underneath your fingernails
I hope you never remove my stray hairs from your beard
after a long makeout sesh
I hope we are never apart long enough to where my scent fades out of your clothes*
Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 1:49 PM UTC