"pectorals" poems - Hello Poetry

His eyes blindfolded by sleep, he densely gropes about grabbing my hand between both of his. Enclosing mine own between his Faberge egg of callouses and scars. He holds my hand as if made of porcelain between his blonde-tufted, chiseled pectorals. The tufts shift beneath the weight of our hands with each heave of mellifluous breath, silhouetted by pthalo blue lights from the electronic tomes casting their oceanic net about the room. Chronographs edge further into their rotation, and his tides of breath bear the gentle weight of his hands more heavily about mine. A dulling crash of sleep furls about my hand - starting at the top and settling somewhere between the tufts. I begin to wonder if the heartbeat I feel in my hand is his or mine. As I begin to drift back to sleep with disregard to whether or not I will wake with a functioning hand; a yawn encompasses his form pulling the Faberge egg apart, and shocking a syncopated known trumming through my hand. A smile washes over both of our faces; in blindfolded sleep for him, and me with an interest in illumination within his maniform Fabrege clasp.

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Jan 26, 2014

Jan 26, 2014 at 9:25 PM UTC

meagan-moore

Fabrege Clasp

His eyes blindfolded by sleep, he densely gropes about grabbing my hand between both of his. Enclosing mine own between his Faberge egg of callouses and scars. He holds my hand as if made of porcelain between his blonde-tufted, chiseled pectorals. The tufts shift beneath the weight of our hands with each heave of mellifluous breath, silhouetted by pthalo blue lights from the electronic tomes casting their oceanic net about the room. Chronographs edge further into their rotation, and his tides of breath bear the gentle weight of his hands more heavily about mine. A dulling crash of sleep furls about my hand - starting at the top and settling somewhere between the tufts. I begin to wonder if the heartbeat I feel in my hand is his or mine. As I begin to drift back to sleep with disregard to whether or not I will wake with a functioning hand; a yawn encompasses his form pulling the Faberge egg apart, and shocking a syncopated known trumming through my hand. A smile washes over both of our faces; in blindfolded sleep for him, and me with an interest in illumination within his maniform Fabrege clasp.

10

venus was once a little girl until she was forced to be a vision. there is an innocence in her eyes as she runs her tongue up your neck, along your jaw, over your lips, ever so slightly, because this is foreign to her: passion with the promise of love, not lust, a heart with no sharp edges. you tell her that you see her, that you love the heart in her flesh, not the divinity in her mouth, and she cries out loud, rosewater tears from opaline eyes melting like snowflakes on your tongue, they taste like candied grapefruit—still bittersweet. she paws at your pectorals, makes a home inside your lungs, paints peonies on your eyelids with the blush covering her cheeks, you embody every single thing that was ripped away from her, all at once. kiss me, you fool, she weeps, let me taste all the love i have missed. you will give her every last drop

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Mar 8, 2020

Mar 8, 2020 at 1:01 AM UTC

marshallkylie

rosewater

venus was once a little girl until she was forced to be a vision. there is an innocence in her eyes as she runs her tongue up your neck, along your jaw, over your lips, ever so slightly, because this is foreign to her: passion with the promise of love, not lust, a heart with no sharp edges. you tell her that you see her, that you love the heart in her flesh, not the divinity in her mouth, and she cries out loud, rosewater tears from opaline eyes melting like snowflakes on your tongue, they taste like candied grapefruit—still bittersweet. she paws at your pectorals, makes a home inside your lungs, paints peonies on your eyelids with the blush covering her cheeks, you embody every single thing that was ripped away from her, all at once. kiss me, you fool, she weeps, let me taste all the love i have missed. you will give her every last drop

5

The glistening earth motions back and forth as kisses from poison weeds graze fingernails coated underneath sickly green as skin is scraped and bleeding Broken syllables of a name once far forgotten tattooed above a heart as spider claws trace the outline of pectorals Straight hairs and lambs curls intertwine in a lonesome tango beneath ghostly cotton waves Creaking creaking the ship of seas can take no more of her weeping aching sighs salted waters take over and dribble from the openings of life and hatred Trophy wife, token gain What is that smell on your shirt? What’s the name you say as I take you in my warmth? As I absorb your anger of the world? What’s that name?

0

Sep 18, 2020

Sep 18, 2020 at 12:38 PM UTC

Altprime

Second Place

The glistening earth motions back and forth as kisses from poison weeds graze fingernails coated underneath sickly green as skin is scraped and bleeding Broken syllables of a name once far forgotten tattooed above a heart as spider claws trace the outline of pectorals Straight hairs and lambs curls intertwine in a lonesome tango beneath ghostly cotton waves Creaking creaking the ship of seas can take no more of her weeping aching sighs salted waters take over and dribble from the openings of life and hatred Trophy wife, token gain What is that smell on your shirt? What’s the name you say as I take you in my warmth? As I absorb your anger of the world? What’s that name?

12