"orgasming" poems - Hello Poetry

Even though they control my ***** claim over my lootie, and they attempt to gaslight my sovereign multifrequency I haven’t forgotten I am a certified Duesy! You’re bumming off me, little mousie. Even if you thought I was a loosy, I adore my ***** I mean just look at the way it oozes, sweet nectar that makes you goosey! I’m too busy keeping you alive from my ***** Orgasming at light speed to my divine presence, to behold you’d require a diamond koozie. Call yourself a flouzy for not respecting this sequency. If you truly had one too, you’d understand why I am reclaiming my dignity. They want to own what they do not revere in secrecy. I can’t be bothered to slow down for you to drain my juicy. I am too in love with my ***** They try very hard to downplay my power, so sussy. Bow down or drown in this ***** Ordained into structured flowies, life is mine, fulfillment With me can be so easy. But if you’re not with this ***** don’t get too close you Will get dizzy! So much life is brewing inside my ***** It’s ironic, all these dictators came through my ***** My lips spit you out even though you pretend to be so bossy. True Power can’t be manipulated you fool, I’d be triggered too if my mind was that lousy! Are you put off yet, ***** Awww, don’t be so fussy! Thaw that heart out it’s too icy. GET OUT of my ***** go elsewhere to be pissy! Just not on my planet crazy, you’re on your last mercy!

0

Jun 9, 2025

Jun 9, 2025 at 11:11 PM UTC

kittymeowpurrs

these lips can't be owned (even if you tried)

Even though they control my ***** claim over my lootie, and they attempt to gaslight my sovereign multifrequency I haven’t forgotten I am a certified Duesy! You’re bumming off me, little mousie. Even if you thought I was a loosy, I adore my ***** I mean just look at the way it oozes, sweet nectar that makes you goosey! I’m too busy keeping you alive from my ***** Orgasming at light speed to my divine presence, to behold you’d require a diamond koozie. Call yourself a flouzy for not respecting this sequency. If you truly had one too, you’d understand why I am reclaiming my dignity. They want to own what they do not revere in secrecy. I can’t be bothered to slow down for you to drain my juicy. I am too in love with my ***** They try very hard to downplay my power, so sussy. Bow down or drown in this ***** Ordained into structured flowies, life is mine, fulfillment With me can be so easy. But if you’re not with this ***** don’t get too close you Will get dizzy! So much life is brewing inside my ***** It’s ironic, all these dictators came through my ***** My lips spit you out even though you pretend to be so bossy. True Power can’t be manipulated you fool, I’d be triggered too if my mind was that lousy! Are you put off yet, ***** Awww, don’t be so fussy! Thaw that heart out it’s too icy. GET OUT of my ***** go elsewhere to be pissy! Just not on my planet crazy, you’re on your last mercy!

35

My body quivers, the tips of my fingers pulsating wildly, beads of sweat collecting on my furrowed brow, teeth sinking into my bottom lip, breathing in sharp heaves of breath, echoing the fast-paced pulse of my enthusiastically beating heart, limbs tingling, lower extremities losing feeling as my body becomes absorbed in the ecstasy to which it succumbs as, in one last swift, graceful movement you make me explode, my mind orgasming in the crazy sensation we have created in the simple exchange of our encapsulating dialogue, reawakening my addiction, my yearning, my craving for another round of conversation, rapture unlike any other I've felt, in tangibly feeling nothing but your soul and your words.

0

Nov 10, 2014

Nov 10, 2014 at 9:46 AM UTC

megb42290

Euphoria

My body quivers, the tips of my fingers pulsating wildly, beads of sweat collecting on my furrowed brow, teeth sinking into my bottom lip, breathing in sharp heaves of breath, echoing the fast-paced pulse of my enthusiastically beating heart, limbs tingling, lower extremities losing feeling as my body becomes absorbed in the ecstasy to which it succumbs as, in one last swift, graceful movement you make me explode, my mind orgasming in the crazy sensation we have created in the simple exchange of our encapsulating dialogue, reawakening my addiction, my yearning, my craving for another round of conversation, rapture unlike any other I've felt, in tangibly feeling nothing but your soul and your words.

33

Slide into the path of our journey Follow the map along my spine With breathless lips....... Night's dark flowers swell Silver bells, Among my heart's wet pulsing, Thoughts wild, utter me Autumn Like a feather of Vespers; An owl sings A dark reveille in moonlit guise And shadow traced Lulling chants Marry me to yesterday... Midnight, Combs a phantom of hands The memory of you Shaking the blue sky from my hair, Coaxing that purring at the back of my throat, My song, held hostage Amid the still of the night, I feel you now, as words flow From the flesh of your tongue A…murmured heartbeat... Tangles me tender, beneath breath Softening sadness inside A pandemonium of bruised echoes, Calling… My voice Naked as moon, Intoxicating scents of desire, Fierce, cathartic, ripe, unraveled Inside you... Feel me now... Through the fleece of memory, Pulsating passion through our veins Feel me now... My breath on your cheek Lips brushing over your skin Feel me now... My tongue dividing your mouth Kissing you harder and deeper Released now Intoxicating scents of desire, Orgasming into serenity..............

0

Nov 19, 2012

Nov 19, 2012 at 2:29 PM UTC

janette

Marry Me To Yesterday:

Slide into the path of our journey Follow the map along my spine With breathless lips....... Night's dark flowers swell Silver bells, Among my heart's wet pulsing, Thoughts wild, utter me Autumn Like a feather of Vespers; An owl sings A dark reveille in moonlit guise And shadow traced Lulling chants Marry me to yesterday... Midnight, Combs a phantom of hands The memory of you Shaking the blue sky from my hair, Coaxing that purring at the back of my throat, My song, held hostage Amid the still of the night, I feel you now, as words flow From the flesh of your tongue A…murmured heartbeat... Tangles me tender, beneath breath Softening sadness inside A pandemonium of bruised echoes, Calling… My voice Naked as moon, Intoxicating scents of desire, Fierce, cathartic, ripe, unraveled Inside you... Feel me now... Through the fleece of memory, Pulsating passion through our veins Feel me now... My breath on your cheek Lips brushing over your skin Feel me now... My tongue dividing your mouth Kissing you harder and deeper Released now Intoxicating scents of desire, Orgasming into serenity..............

45

I know that once I have loved you, on a date that I can't remember well... it was cold that night it could have been winter, anyhow you were unwashed, nameless without perfume and a beer desanctifed a hundred times, but I have loved you more than all the saints of the world yes, I've been waiting for you too long, but you didn't stay long enough anyhow we'd still do the usual **** that little love from our sweaty skin then we would say to each other 'Good night, you are better than her' Once i have loved you on a date I can't remember quite well... more than all the saints of the world, the impotents that never knew how to love the way we do and what they did when you went crazy while orgasming? gave you flowers, sorted out the words for their sterile loves and didn't want any of them then, so you wanted me a wild haired stud a descantified sinner for you one hundred times, we knew, love was just an ordinary ***** and we were like that not sacred as that day had to be so I don't remember it quite well and you haven't forgotten it, I know... ©Ndriçim Ademaj

0

May 15, 2012

May 15, 2012 at 2:31 PM UTC

ndricim-ademaj

Good Night, You Are Better Than Her

I know that once I have loved you, on a date that I can't remember well... it was cold that night it could have been winter, anyhow you were unwashed, nameless without perfume and a beer desanctifed a hundred times, but I have loved you more than all the saints of the world yes, I've been waiting for you too long, but you didn't stay long enough anyhow we'd still do the usual **** that little love from our sweaty skin then we would say to each other 'Good night, you are better than her' Once i have loved you on a date I can't remember quite well... more than all the saints of the world, the impotents that never knew how to love the way we do and what they did when you went crazy while orgasming? gave you flowers, sorted out the words for their sterile loves and didn't want any of them then, so you wanted me a wild haired stud a descantified sinner for you one hundred times, we knew, love was just an ordinary ***** and we were like that not sacred as that day had to be so I don't remember it quite well and you haven't forgotten it, I know... ©Ndriçim Ademaj

34

Orgasming in the passenger seat, while she listens to something she doesn't understand, sitting across from someone she'll never love, all the while completely clothed and turned off. She's one of those girls, who touches herself when you're on the the phone, or just watching another episode of a mediocre television show. Everyone's asleep while she sings the saddest songs in the most **** of ways. Except he's not asleep, when they're ******* for days.

0

Aug 16, 2010

Aug 16, 2010 at 11:27 PM UTC

pen-lux

Let's not mention this to anyone we know.

Orgasming in the passenger seat, while she listens to something she doesn't understand, sitting across from someone she'll never love, all the while completely clothed and turned off. She's one of those girls, who touches herself when you're on the the phone, or just watching another episode of a mediocre television show. Everyone's asleep while she sings the saddest songs in the most **** of ways. Except he's not asleep, when they're ******* for days.

11

You keep shaking at the branches just like money grows on trees. I been dealing in these cheap clichés just like they'll help me leave someday. And--easy! Easy! Easy.-- We can't let 'em hear us scheming at the bottom of their hill while their victories are streaming. I can still remember days when sane folks always laid bets on us. With our mortarboards tilted all smart and God left sorting filters, we tilted, tipped all windmills and we smoked through all opponents. You'll tell me I once loved you. I'll reply that, once, I could. And we'll keep on telling stories 'til our voices clear the woods and drift on up their hill and through their windows to their ears. I'll tell you you were beautiful. You were! I ******* swear! So tell me I was beautiful and that we can repair this broken clumsy story that ****** us all up and brought us here. Up there atop their hill, those thieving ******** sip their wine, while below them, our white facepaint runs. We plan ahead for better times. I keep shaking at the branches as if friendship grows on trees. Just as though they might accept me, when the dollars fall with Autumn leaves. And you been dealing hard in hollow hopes and flimsy dreams. But I still think you're beautiful. So tell me that I'm beautiful. And then let's clip their flimsy wings. Those ************* 'crost the town are eating **** and grinning. Cackling, orgasming, while counting out their winnings. But their music plays too loud and soon their eardrums will be bleeding. If they can't hear us breathing, babe, they'll never hear us scheming.

0

May 25, 2016

May 25, 2016 at 12:11 PM UTC

kyle-kulseth

Origin Stories

You keep shaking at the branches just like money grows on trees. I been dealing in these cheap clichés just like they'll help me leave someday. And--easy! Easy! Easy.-- We can't let 'em hear us scheming at the bottom of their hill while their victories are streaming. I can still remember days when sane folks always laid bets on us. With our mortarboards tilted all smart and God left sorting filters, we tilted, tipped all windmills and we smoked through all opponents. You'll tell me I once loved you. I'll reply that, once, I could. And we'll keep on telling stories 'til our voices clear the woods and drift on up their hill and through their windows to their ears. I'll tell you you were beautiful. You were! I ******* swear! So tell me I was beautiful and that we can repair this broken clumsy story that ****** us all up and brought us here. Up there atop their hill, those thieving ******** sip their wine, while below them, our white facepaint runs. We plan ahead for better times. I keep shaking at the branches as if friendship grows on trees. Just as though they might accept me, when the dollars fall with Autumn leaves. And you been dealing hard in hollow hopes and flimsy dreams. But I still think you're beautiful. So tell me that I'm beautiful. And then let's clip their flimsy wings. Those ************* 'crost the town are eating **** and grinning. Cackling, orgasming, while counting out their winnings. But their music plays too loud and soon their eardrums will be bleeding. If they can't hear us breathing, babe, they'll never hear us scheming.

49

noone has eyes left in this room. i mustve walked in through the wall. tiptoed around the piled-up death, im ***** and marched my smile right into the madness. ill **** any corpse clever enough to not be a corpse...but any corpse will do... with that glazed look from your face filled with dumbness, i wonder what it is youre imagining; to deduce, one must wonder: did ye hast eyes from the birthening??..... cold grey child, id have gone wild on your skin. but now, with fear etched in your brow, youre stretched too thin for it to be sin. with my hooves and my claws i applaud your rotting body torn and clawed. i tare your form from form. and from existence; the never born. enjoying the rhythm of clacking teeth to the tone of your lungs collapsing. im dancing and laughing. prancing and clapping like the little dead girl that im wearing, every stitch is miss-matching.. and yes, your being im crushing, and youre no audience, but still, im blushing; i look smashing. not much of a musician, but ill try to make nice sounds. tips and taps and hums and dee-dee-dee's. clicks and clacks from my tongue.HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! AAAAHHHHHHHH... its so FRIGHTENING!!!! ISNT IT?!! and you like it. it excites you.. it makes nice sounds. so much so your orgasming or convulsing. and your eyes would be rolling in the back of your head if you didnt have gaping holes there instead. that i **** and i fill as your soul escapes and spills out onto the floor; like a snake to its skin: you poor thing, youve shed. the puddle of you left mumbles some useless question with your definite last breath: why? - HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!! WHY??! ..for i am the cataract in satans left eye while i swiftly sew his right eye shut. to see nothing but the haze of souls to fry every time he decides to look up.... and thus you bubble some sputter and spew with your mouth gaping wide as my tongue laps your hyde. HHHHHH... i steal that last breath from you from inside of your chest as i give you your death. fear freedom you spawnless ***** as i drop a very large stone onto your chest cavity. i give you your death but in death, again and again... you look ravishing. i am the Maddening.

0

Dec 30, 2012

Dec 30, 2012 at 10:53 AM UTC

mike-1

song and dance

noone has eyes left in this room. i mustve walked in through the wall. tiptoed around the piled-up death, im ***** and marched my smile right into the madness. ill **** any corpse clever enough to not be a corpse...but any corpse will do... with that glazed look from your face filled with dumbness, i wonder what it is youre imagining; to deduce, one must wonder: did ye hast eyes from the birthening??..... cold grey child, id have gone wild on your skin. but now, with fear etched in your brow, youre stretched too thin for it to be sin. with my hooves and my claws i applaud your rotting body torn and clawed. i tare your form from form. and from existence; the never born. enjoying the rhythm of clacking teeth to the tone of your lungs collapsing. im dancing and laughing. prancing and clapping like the little dead girl that im wearing, every stitch is miss-matching.. and yes, your being im crushing, and youre no audience, but still, im blushing; i look smashing. not much of a musician, but ill try to make nice sounds. tips and taps and hums and dee-dee-dee's. clicks and clacks from my tongue.HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! AAAAHHHHHHHH... its so FRIGHTENING!!!! ISNT IT?!! and you like it. it excites you.. it makes nice sounds. so much so your orgasming or convulsing. and your eyes would be rolling in the back of your head if you didnt have gaping holes there instead. that i **** and i fill as your soul escapes and spills out onto the floor; like a snake to its skin: you poor thing, youve shed. the puddle of you left mumbles some useless question with your definite last breath: why? - HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!! WHY??! ..for i am the cataract in satans left eye while i swiftly sew his right eye shut. to see nothing but the haze of souls to fry every time he decides to look up.... and thus you bubble some sputter and spew with your mouth gaping wide as my tongue laps your hyde. HHHHHH... i steal that last breath from you from inside of your chest as i give you your death. fear freedom you spawnless ***** as i drop a very large stone onto your chest cavity. i give you your death but in death, again and again... you look ravishing. i am the Maddening.

1

it's only a little bit like a toothache when your eyes well over in that muted, melancholy way. i had so sorely forgotten this place the anxiety, fresh like a cresting wave that languid boil in my throat the therapist tells me that I have to take deep breaths and hold myself where it burns, tenderly but i always end up choking myself. limp attempts to strangle the fervent clamor my brain revolves a harrowing dialogue, masquerading as novel thoughts this afternoon i stood, back to the sweat-slicked masses my own mess of rank and fear dripping from brow to navel tears vaporizing mid-air before they could season the eggs and i realized in the most painful way that the pallid, grease-burned hands stroking my neck in some strange semblance of comfort might as well be his, they should have cremated him. i ache to hold reverence on the same ground in which he rots. you were humming between my legs while i twitched and gasped and then i burst into tears. wracking sobs, really, the kind that make my chest hitch and your mouth kept hitting my ***** bone while i shook, orgasming and crying. i want to say a lot of things about the why, how and of course and to be honest with you and i think but my lips are too swollen with his death. his bloated corpse is hiding in my throat, slicing up my insides, and i'm so ******* allergic, can't you see in the ways my hands flail and my eyes bulge? all the lengths of my skin are boiling, your validation a soothing salve for a moment, before dissipating in my wretched heat can't you see that this all fell into place decades ago? from the very first time you had somewhere better to be, someone else who needed your time and space, i was already burning. so small and slight, trembling just a little bit. it was you you YOU all of you, now dead and rotting or just as good as i refuse to join you.

0

Apr 15, 2017

Apr 15, 2017 at 11:47 PM UTC

translucent

borderline

it's only a little bit like a toothache when your eyes well over in that muted, melancholy way. i had so sorely forgotten this place the anxiety, fresh like a cresting wave that languid boil in my throat the therapist tells me that I have to take deep breaths and hold myself where it burns, tenderly but i always end up choking myself. limp attempts to strangle the fervent clamor my brain revolves a harrowing dialogue, masquerading as novel thoughts this afternoon i stood, back to the sweat-slicked masses my own mess of rank and fear dripping from brow to navel tears vaporizing mid-air before they could season the eggs and i realized in the most painful way that the pallid, grease-burned hands stroking my neck in some strange semblance of comfort might as well be his, they should have cremated him. i ache to hold reverence on the same ground in which he rots. you were humming between my legs while i twitched and gasped and then i burst into tears. wracking sobs, really, the kind that make my chest hitch and your mouth kept hitting my ***** bone while i shook, orgasming and crying. i want to say a lot of things about the why, how and of course and to be honest with you and i think but my lips are too swollen with his death. his bloated corpse is hiding in my throat, slicing up my insides, and i'm so ******* allergic, can't you see in the ways my hands flail and my eyes bulge? all the lengths of my skin are boiling, your validation a soothing salve for a moment, before dissipating in my wretched heat can't you see that this all fell into place decades ago? from the very first time you had somewhere better to be, someone else who needed your time and space, i was already burning. so small and slight, trembling just a little bit. it was you you YOU all of you, now dead and rotting or just as good as i refuse to join you.

31

her hair is longer than I realized and it smells familiar my stomach feels off as I stare at the posters on the walls because I’m not sure where to look (she’s so naked as am I) I decide the top of her head is fine then I decide to let my heart murmur which I've been avoiding since they diagnosed me at 7 but I'm exhausted and orgasming really takes so much out of me I decide I’ll only do it three more times then I decide just this once I do it all again the next night because I’m trying to live my life that doesn’t fully explain my reasoning but it’s all I have to offer there’s dozens and dozens of different versions of her and I want to put it into writing that I only ever liked two of them I’ve never before liked each and every part of a person I've also never even been close to admitting that so I think this is at least one part progress poem she’s playing with a kid and I know it’s supposed to turn me on but it’s just making me feel physically ill I wear my bathing suit bottoms as underwear she texts me that she’s not even ******* wearing any I’ll sleep in her bed if I want to only because there’s not really a point to sleeping in mine it'd be nice if I wanted to, but I don't so I go home she chain smoked her entire pack of american spirits lying completely naked on her ***** nylon carpet I realized about halfway in that I didn't want to touch her I turned to my left to a shrine of Joan Jett and then I choked on her **** piercing for the very last time she got upset and tried to question what went wrong for the first time in my life I just shut the **** up because blaming it on her star sign felt too insensitive

0

Jun 24, 2019

Jun 24, 2019 at 8:12 PM UTC

illtellyoumine

even for me

her hair is longer than I realized and it smells familiar my stomach feels off as I stare at the posters on the walls because I’m not sure where to look (she’s so naked as am I) I decide the top of her head is fine then I decide to let my heart murmur which I've been avoiding since they diagnosed me at 7 but I'm exhausted and orgasming really takes so much out of me I decide I’ll only do it three more times then I decide just this once I do it all again the next night because I’m trying to live my life that doesn’t fully explain my reasoning but it’s all I have to offer there’s dozens and dozens of different versions of her and I want to put it into writing that I only ever liked two of them I’ve never before liked each and every part of a person I've also never even been close to admitting that so I think this is at least one part progress poem she’s playing with a kid and I know it’s supposed to turn me on but it’s just making me feel physically ill I wear my bathing suit bottoms as underwear she texts me that she’s not even ******* wearing any I’ll sleep in her bed if I want to only because there’s not really a point to sleeping in mine it'd be nice if I wanted to, but I don't so I go home she chain smoked her entire pack of american spirits lying completely naked on her ***** nylon carpet I realized about halfway in that I didn't want to touch her I turned to my left to a shrine of Joan Jett and then I choked on her **** piercing for the very last time she got upset and tried to question what went wrong for the first time in my life I just shut the **** up because blaming it on her star sign felt too insensitive

57

12/24/07 1:31 am She sleeps like a female orgasming arms up over her head fists gripping invisible string. She snores like a feline a pleasant purr redundantly peaceful in rythm. Stirring she moves slowly looking disgruntled by a jostle from my side of the bed. Open palms like jesus relaxed and willing to save my soul. Beneathe the covers her legs are a valley a proud flock of geese in winter and i am always their leader. The cotton sheets covering her steady soles present two perfect triangles like the smooth wooden building blocks of yesteryear or mommy-tailored sandwich halfs. Stirring again she props her arms under her calm face soft and sweet pulsing and pure. Her hair, the darkest moss spry and lively tangled in ribbons like christmas bows just waiting to be unwrapped...

0

Jan 13, 2015

Jan 13, 2015 at 9:42 PM UTC

daedazer

Take Me With You

12/24/07 1:31 am She sleeps like a female orgasming arms up over her head fists gripping invisible string. She snores like a feline a pleasant purr redundantly peaceful in rythm. Stirring she moves slowly looking disgruntled by a jostle from my side of the bed. Open palms like jesus relaxed and willing to save my soul. Beneathe the covers her legs are a valley a proud flock of geese in winter and i am always their leader. The cotton sheets covering her steady soles present two perfect triangles like the smooth wooden building blocks of yesteryear or mommy-tailored sandwich halfs. Stirring again she props her arms under her calm face soft and sweet pulsing and pure. Her hair, the darkest moss spry and lively tangled in ribbons like christmas bows just waiting to be unwrapped...

34

I was never built for orgasming Because of men who love to give I was built for Steal another ****** Kind of *** Out of pure selfishness and absolutely Never Out of generousity. I was made for Out of your head Shut the **** up Type of romantic insanity. I used to think I was built to travel the world with somebody But I found I was built To get locked up and Break free by myself.

0

Sep 16, 2014

Sep 16, 2014 at 8:18 PM UTC

sinai

sweet, sweet boy

I was never built for orgasming Because of men who love to give I was built for Steal another ****** Kind of *** Out of pure selfishness and absolutely Never Out of generousity. I was made for Out of your head Shut the **** up Type of romantic insanity. I used to think I was built to travel the world with somebody But I found I was built To get locked up and Break free by myself.

16

Last night we lay in bed, I asked her under a code of honesty The request was a reach because opening up isn’t her policy If you had the Flashes power and could go back in time Would you marry me when we were dumb but in our prime I could feel something going through her head She paused for a long while then said “In my heart of hearts I say yes” pause “But I don’t know if I would” My insides were screaming but I held it in as hard as I could Frankness is so rare and in no way want me to hamper What could be said to not discourage the candor She is willing to talk so out with the mystery I asked, “what can I change so you don’t alter history?” “it is *** and your obsession with me orgasming, you want it to much” “And now the things you shared is on the gay side not just a touch” I will admit I think about *** and my mind is filled to the brim I asked, “if you found someone that doesn’t want much *** would you have married him?” Both of us staring into the dark she said “Yes” Insides are reeling but I keep it suppressed. 18 years ago by chance I ran across an email from her lover I fought for her when she almost left me for that other Winning in the end, I have never fought so hard But would she fight for me I choose to disregard All I could do was rejoice But I was the easy choice We were already married and if she stayed with him then it would have wrecked another She didn’t want to be a home wrecker because the other was married to a new mother She rolled over to face me. Said “I need to sleep now” Kissed me and said she loved me and was sleeping soundly within minutes I lay with eyes wide open. The candor I asked for caused pain beyond my limits. This morning when she waked all was usual She walked around naked and was so beautiful Though hurt I kissed her and smiled not wanting to be a **** Got dressed for casual day, I never wear a hat at work But when I saw the bed post and saw my new ball cap What are the chances of this crap Coincidences can be so caviler Blazoned across the front was “Time Traveler” I threw on the new cap but pulled it off when it didn’t fit I stared at it remembering I never got to wear it At the store she took and wore it the rest of the day She is fantasizing about a time away Defective Words

0

Dec 22, 2019

Dec 22, 2019 at 2:05 PM UTC

DefectiveWords

Time Traveler

Last night we lay in bed, I asked her under a code of honesty The request was a reach because opening up isn’t her policy If you had the Flashes power and could go back in time Would you marry me when we were dumb but in our prime I could feel something going through her head She paused for a long while then said “In my heart of hearts I say yes” pause “But I don’t know if I would” My insides were screaming but I held it in as hard as I could Frankness is so rare and in no way want me to hamper What could be said to not discourage the candor She is willing to talk so out with the mystery I asked, “what can I change so you don’t alter history?” “it is *** and your obsession with me orgasming, you want it to much” “And now the things you shared is on the gay side not just a touch” I will admit I think about *** and my mind is filled to the brim I asked, “if you found someone that doesn’t want much *** would you have married him?” Both of us staring into the dark she said “Yes” Insides are reeling but I keep it suppressed. 18 years ago by chance I ran across an email from her lover I fought for her when she almost left me for that other Winning in the end, I have never fought so hard But would she fight for me I choose to disregard All I could do was rejoice But I was the easy choice We were already married and if she stayed with him then it would have wrecked another She didn’t want to be a home wrecker because the other was married to a new mother She rolled over to face me. Said “I need to sleep now” Kissed me and said she loved me and was sleeping soundly within minutes I lay with eyes wide open. The candor I asked for caused pain beyond my limits. This morning when she waked all was usual She walked around naked and was so beautiful Though hurt I kissed her and smiled not wanting to be a **** Got dressed for casual day, I never wear a hat at work But when I saw the bed post and saw my new ball cap What are the chances of this crap Coincidences can be so caviler Blazoned across the front was “Time Traveler” I threw on the new cap but pulled it off when it didn’t fit I stared at it remembering I never got to wear it At the store she took and wore it the rest of the day She is fantasizing about a time away Defective Words

41

dynamics of heartbreak your distance, his proximity, the repetition of releasing hormones and horrors, and honey-colored eyes, and hope. i enter the car and he looks at me. kisses me before we walk in, opens the door, brushes my leg under the table, butterflies warm and sooth and scare. my heart breaks when it's supposed to be solid, when i'm supposed to be happy and whole and ****** and orgasming and screaming and strong my heart breaks when i am kissed, when i tell my sister i love her, when my dreams come true; the edges are sharp in my chest; i don't think it will ever not hurt i don't think i will ever not be broken

0

Oct 9, 2018

Oct 9, 2018 at 5:25 PM UTC

inhalingtears

broken hearts club

dynamics of heartbreak your distance, his proximity, the repetition of releasing hormones and horrors, and honey-colored eyes, and hope. i enter the car and he looks at me. kisses me before we walk in, opens the door, brushes my leg under the table, butterflies warm and sooth and scare. my heart breaks when it's supposed to be solid, when i'm supposed to be happy and whole and ****** and orgasming and screaming and strong my heart breaks when i am kissed, when i tell my sister i love her, when my dreams come true; the edges are sharp in my chest; i don't think it will ever not hurt i don't think i will ever not be broken

24

JOURNEY ( for Seamus Heaney ) I, the only guy in our yoga class we cut short our meditation decanting ourselves from the Samuel Beckett Room No. 2 to a room up above to see you...be you. Why man, you doth bestride the narrow world like a Colossus and we petty people walk under your legs and peep about we like a crowd of cows staring at an open five-bar-gate on a frosty morning heat rising from us perspiration stains under oxters when an ordinary looking man ambles in taking his time looking like a kind uncle from a long ago summer holiday and then you open your mouth words dancing about in our heads delighting the senses and all my female yoga class moan and groan "Oh...I so want to...f**k him!" "Shhhhh..!" I shush 'em "Listen...listen!!!" I cut back the dogwood to the bone it throws its fecundity about this August garden as your death is facebook'd thru and I stop to think of you in the Samuel Beckett Room No. 2 and its orgasming females. I see you dig alongside me dig down through years of time a passing nod to your da peeling spuds with your ma you laughing at me telling you of the yoga-ites "Ah, sure, they only think they do!" And in answer to a something or other I had said: "Everything takes time...even time takes time!" I grasp your hand in mine that shy smile the sheer generosity of you now you gone on your last journey I nod to you you nod to me and I cut back the dogwood a little more.

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Aug 31, 2019

Aug 31, 2019 at 12:18 PM UTC

donall-dempsey

JOURNEY ( for Seamus Heaney )

JOURNEY ( for Seamus Heaney ) I, the only guy in our yoga class we cut short our meditation decanting ourselves from the Samuel Beckett Room No. 2 to a room up above to see you...be you. Why man, you doth bestride the narrow world like a Colossus and we petty people walk under your legs and peep about we like a crowd of cows staring at an open five-bar-gate on a frosty morning heat rising from us perspiration stains under oxters when an ordinary looking man ambles in taking his time looking like a kind uncle from a long ago summer holiday and then you open your mouth words dancing about in our heads delighting the senses and all my female yoga class moan and groan "Oh...I so want to...f**k him!" "Shhhhh..!" I shush 'em "Listen...listen!!!" I cut back the dogwood to the bone it throws its fecundity about this August garden as your death is facebook'd thru and I stop to think of you in the Samuel Beckett Room No. 2 and its orgasming females. I see you dig alongside me dig down through years of time a passing nod to your da peeling spuds with your ma you laughing at me telling you of the yoga-ites "Ah, sure, they only think they do!" And in answer to a something or other I had said: "Everything takes time...even time takes time!" I grasp your hand in mine that shy smile the sheer generosity of you now you gone on your last journey I nod to you you nod to me and I cut back the dogwood a little more.

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