"reciprocating" poems
*He’s no musician.
He doesn't make melodies through violin and guitar strings.
Yet he composed, haunting ballads in dramatic tempos,
Rhyming every lyric,
Harmonizing, making it dance in a musical euphony.
He’s no seamster.
Yet he cuts and he traces,
plain words and printed phrases;
Then he sews and he weaves it skilfully,
into a lovely concrete poetry.
He’s no painter.
He just has a palette of pigmented letters,
splashing colorful lines on his blank canvass.
A blast of contained evocative memories,
Streaking and shading mixtures of kaleidoscopic imagery.
He’s no storyteller.
Yet from him, I heard the most romantic tales-
One, of the moon and its lover sea.
Reciprocating shy glances, whispering I love you’s,
while kissing behind the sprawling mountains.
Though the dawn will come, they do not fear.
For after the majestic tribal sun leaves his stage,
There’ll the lovers be once again reunited.
He's no poet.
Yet he writes--
stanzas and verses.
And oh! it revives,
every strand of emotion,
every sense of intuition,
Inside me.
A lyrical perception,
Sheer perfection,
Arousing perpetual reactions,
From me.*
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 6:47 AM UTC
Seasons passed us by
I grew, and so did you
In chorus we made the universe spark
At crossroads you kissed my insecurities away
And somewhere along the way
You gave me your heart
I told you I wasn’t good at reciprocating
But you just smiled and said it’s okay
I loved you so much then, for choosing me
Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 8:11 AM UTC
**Expectations are the baggage we carry
Getting cumbersome, with each passing day
We always get the unexpected from it
Our back seems to be crumbling under the burden
Weaving a web of expectations, and getting entangled
Unable to ameliorate the obfuscated mind
Reciprocating, with the intention of fulfilling expectations
Our steps become heavily laden, unable to walk
Even though a life beckons without the paraphernalia
We have already walked away from it, with our expectations**
© Amitav (Radiance)
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 12:00 AM UTC
The intimacy of being known
The intimacy of doing something without being asked
The intimacy of doing literally anything with that person
Only because it's that person.
The intimacy of waking up next to that person
The intimacy of being woken up by that person
The intimacy of remembering what someone likes
The intimacy of remembering what someone dislikes
The intimacy of not needing to remember just doing it
The intimacy of reciprocating the energy of that person
The intimacy of being that energy
The intimacy of feeling human with someone
The intimacy of making someone else feel human
The intimacy of doing something only for that person without them knowing it was you
The intimacy of having something done for you without your knowledge of who, when, and how
The intimacy of appreciating someone's existence
The intimacy of your existence being appreciated
The intimacy of being in their presence
The intimacy in knowing if one were to explain how they felt they'd only being annoying and everything they said would be pointlessly wasted and feel meaningless to the reciprocant
The intimacy in having no ability to stand up for oneself against someone
The intimacy of being able to work through PTSD for someone
The intimacy of being able to ignore instinct for someone
The intimacy in learning oneself with someone
The love we don't see, is the most important to me
Oct 10, 2021
Oct 10, 2021 at 6:05 PM UTC
Boundless energy around us,
Stretched to snare the senses.
Shaped and bound to our life-force.
No barriers, or defenses.
Limitless interplay, front
row seats shall we say.
To astounding cosmic displays.
Consider what a day holds;~
Glimpses of magnificence
In the eyes of the beholder,
Fear not insignificance.
Take grip of your awareness
Exchanging energy,
Is inherent in us.
Throw a love curve ball. . .
Await your reciprocating shower.
those stars, they fall
forever.
They deal not in glamour.
Casually causing us
humans to stutter and mumble.
Let not, your heart labor,
Loves home-run rests
Patiently,
On your minds table.
Prana for everything,
This **** ain't no fable.
Sep 2, 2015
Sep 2, 2015 at 8:31 PM UTC
I want a lover.
Someone to share an intimate touch.
To bask in their presence.
To feel their body.
I want to bring a man joy.
To see the peaceful smile grow
As I gently stroke his chest,
As I kiss his lips, his cheek, his ear, his neck.
I want to feel him hard against me
As my hand moves down his torso.
Closer and closer to his ever growing ****
And down the side of his groin and upper thigh.
I love the smell of a man's body as he gets more and more aroused.
I breathe it in as I kiss his chest
Quickly flicking my tongue over him here and there.
As I move down, touching, kissing, licking.
Finally I'd put my mouth to his hard ****
I kiss the tip, quick flick of my tongue
Then kissing the shaft.
I give a lick from base to tip, while caressing with my hand.
I revel over how ***** he is for me
As I slip my mouth over his dripping tip.
Oh yes, release that pre-cum into my mouth
As I slide my lips down your **** and **** you.
And I release, pause, stretch out the pleasure.
I gently glide my fingers from your ***** to tip
While looking deep in your eyes, smiling.
Both of us enjoying each other's pleasure.
You would roll me on my back
Reciprocating the thrill I just gave you.
Gently stroking and caressing my breast, torso and wet *****
Kissing and licking, increasing my excitement.
And the thrill as your head goes between my legs.
You lick my ***** and it pulses.
You **** my **** and I get even wetter.
My muscles tense with the thrills shooting through me.
You love my arousal as much as I love yours.
Your licking and ******* makes me so wet.
I am more than ready for your **** inside me.
You know it.
You slip your tongue inside me instead.
Bringing me to the edge before you raise up.
You slowly slide your body over me.
Your hard wet **** is perfectly positioned
To slide into my waiting ***** as you move up my body.
The feeling of having you inside me
Is more exciting than anything else.
As my warm ***** drips over your ****
I tighten and release my muscles
To milk every last drop of *** from you.
Waiting for the look that makes me hornier than ever, your *** face.
I love your pleasure, and knowing I affect you like that.
As you push deeper and harder into me
My once loud moans and cries of 'Yes' and 'Oh God'
Become muffled, caught in the breathless ecstasy.
Yes, yes... YES!
You *** squirting your beautiful *** deep inside me.
I few flicks and I *** dripping all over your twitching ****
Oh yes
Pos *** bliss
Hold me
And let me smell our powerful ******* on you.
Sep 28, 2013
Sep 28, 2013 at 4:17 AM UTC
love is not what love is or what love used to be
love grows. and love grew inside of me for the very first time.
true love that is, love that i thought would never exist except in movies or my favorite romance novels.
imagine falling in love with your best friend, unknowingly.
days pass you by and the sun shines on a sun-kissed face,
embracing all of life beauties. without knowing you fell for love of everything.
love of life, the trees, the universe, people and those who inhabit your life.
every small thing became big, within reach was possibility.
for new chances, changes, and that's when it hit you.
HARD.
like a brick, like bricks, like the titanic came and sunk on your heart , on your whole body even
in the most angelic way, your heart was full of life, of peace, unity of the most purest form of love.
seeing their face for the first time after that was mesmerizing.
tiny butterflies filled your stomach, any chance to talk to , to be in their presence, fighting the urge to jump into a full of *** rage.
blood running warm between your veins , melting away deep inside your body.
if only they could notice you...
until the end, is where this story gets better.
perhaps , a fairy tale ending is in store for you, or perhaps the best is saved for last.
perhaps, a few exchanged glances, a small grin at your jokes, a simple brush against the arm, leaves an open discussion of flirtation.
fluttering of the hearts , engaging in more than a friendship, but an assurance.
completely lost from the start, we somehow found ourselves tangled deep into the web of mystery.
so,
when we reach the end, remember it is also the beginning of a love so true,
reciprocating feelings deep inside, where both parties can know longer hide it.
to fight the urge to not love, is torture in the deepest form.
love is what love was, and love grows into something more.
love grew into my soulmate.
with love,
a soul.
Aug 25, 2018
Aug 25, 2018 at 4:37 PM UTC
allocation of supreme alliteration illustrates perpetual contemplation and concentration that dictates a maligned mastication of federal incarceration of elongated complementary probation leaving you cuffed and based on baseless accusations conducted in aboriginal abbreviations masked task force concluding a course of brevity conducted in coordination then coordinating and copulating condemnation for a homeostasis of thought bought scolded eroded and shot inefficacy perpetrating cultural holocaust irrelevance somersaults galactic static of mathematical bombastic smack addict glued shut in a craft attic floral resurrection gartered section of ****** selection she moves fluid through unaltered perfection of cosmic bypass past the point of extemporaneous infinitude reciprocating fortitude of sinews congregating fabricating visuals of vitality soldering axonal membranes on the cerebellum and cortex simulation of sensual vortex demented fusion more blessed I am that which stands to understand the incomprehensible unconsidered options of racial conflicts the screaming round of unaltered copper fiber severing life from the living only now can we debunk the years
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 9:01 AM UTC
I don't tell people often enough
That I love them
Because love can fade,
"I love you" doesn't always suffice.
Rather I say thank you.
I say that I'm thankful for their existence,
Their existing within my own life,
Because sometimes I don't love the people I'm thankful for.
I'm thankful for people I can't love,
People I don't allow myself to love,
And people who love me in odd ways.
Love isn't always so grand and welcoming.
I'm quite thankful for the people
I don't love, and for the ones that don't love me.
We've played teacher to one another,
We've taught lessons, tested out the material, finalized where we all stand.
So thank you to plenty,
I'll tell you I love you if I do,
But more than anything I'm thankful-
Thankful for your reciprocating, or lack of, love too.
Aug 21, 2013
Aug 21, 2013 at 2:53 AM UTC
resuming textual trip
testing experimental procedures
visualizing model tsunami
augmenting facetious environment
catching abstract architecture
noticing rhythmic exchange
projecting subtextual database
airhorning reggae royalty
adding atypical party
resolving twitter question
noticing emotional mission
awaiting emotional dialect
installing metaphorical experiment
intensifying animated trip
displaying dynamic victory
programming abstract development
releasing emotional exchange
deriving fata morgana
glorifying referential sequence
intensifying facetious map
noticing harmonic trip
observing radical ratio
compiling nomadic message
predating google rebranding
reticulating facetious panda
using hyperreal feedback
exploring virtual panda
speculating graphic gallery
throwing mundane exception
targeting graphic experiment
replenishing emotional trap
localizing asemic animal
dropping rhythmic trip
propagating immortal experiment
displaying lowercase database
invading orange bubbles
crashing animated trip
running conceptual topography
remembering collapsed buildings
crashing hyperreal coverage
propagating hyperreal stipulation
finishing western library
envisioning neon tessellation
reciprocating network likes
processing animated device
releasing haptic quality
examining building seven
awaiting rhapsodical ratio
sampling death sauce
sensing lowercase clone
examining symbolic tour
processing potential development
encapsulating spatial lottery
displaying digital paragraph
reticulating theoretical source
perpetuating western paragraph
transmitting monochromatic structure
anticipating ambient quality
transmitting asemic environment
intensifying atomic quality
remastering history poem
keeping future light
hypothesizing eternal game
using future library
rearranging masonic language
transmitting masonic development
continuing ceremonial ritual
questioning party's legitimacy
deferring western coverage
finishing asemic hypertext
mollifying ostentatious presence
synthesizing allegorical icon
forming categorical unions
sketching app wireframe
programming immortal repository
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 6:52 PM UTC
The forest green of the trees
contrasts so greatly
against the soft pastels in the sky;
Did someone paint this neighborhood?
The odors of garlic & parsley
wafting from across the
charcoal street.
Hums of today's news,
all the latest gossip,
ooh'ing and ah'ing;
endless snippets of candlelight chatter.
Occasional dollops of light
peering up from sedans passing by.
Sounds of zooms
blocked out by the steady pulsating
of white earbuds.
Dogs yipping, sometimes a real bark.
Neighbors come and go,
reciprocating cordial hello's.
Street lights slowly coming alive,
for at 8:37, the sun has begun
its transition to slumber.
They always say,
TGIF, thank god it's Friday.
As day slips to nigh',
the crackles and pops of vinyl come alive
behind a slightly rusted window pane.
Tonight's secrets not yet revealed,
a couple strolls by
holding hands,
sipping coffees, decaffeinated.
A man drunk with regret
and a 40 in his belly,
he breathes a clumsy, "Hey."
Malted liquor questions,
their smell & sound, unmistakable gurgling.
Street lights now fully illuminated,
glances exchanged from
passer-byers.
He opens the car door for her,
and into the dusk they drive.
Vehicles come by in even
greater numbers,
and still searches the young man
for $9, a toothbrush, and a shower,
even cold.
Just another night of
just another day,
in just another city,
in just another neighborhood
on just another street.
Silence, loud, ominous silence,
filtering the senses,
the stories,
the magic;
Isn't ordinary extraordinary?
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 8:52 PM UTC
Love was made on a level that only the stars above could discern.
My lips ensnaring yours, softly, but, aggressively
as the sweetness of lustful saliva lubricates
embracing you with my arms
I wish to fuse you and I together forever!
The natural expression of divine love that defines
the steamy procession that pursues the rawest display of our reciprocating affections
that moment of rewarding bliss as I enter you.
You, receiving me eagerly with your legs clutching me firmly.
One, we have become under the creator of all.
Early morning sunshine peeks through the window just to greet you,
but, only I can feel you close to me.
The angels have succumb to their envy of me
the celestials I must now fight
oh how they wish to be near you
I cannot lose you.
I love you.
There were those moments that I scoured space and time in search of you.
Breaking the mad tyrant’s gauntlet to confiscate the stones and crawling back to you on my shattered knees to rest at your feet,0
I will give everything that is good to you!
Yes, you!
Only you!
The sun incinerated my hands when I repositioned them to extend our particular solstice.
My reward was a prolonged winter
perpetual so that I could always cuddle with you.
You are God’s beautiful prose
the Creator’s presence is only visible through the essence of you.
You.
Jan 2, 2025
Jan 2, 2025 at 10:21 PM UTC
I rarely get on Facebook anymore. But when I do, I'll change my profile picture or banner-- maybe post a witty status update, maybe not witty, just something to let people know I'm alive.
It's like repositioning the arms on a stationary mannequin to depict a different scene. Except lately I just don't care anymore. It's just that-- a mannequin. An object, an image, a lifeless entity with which I used to feel real-- a dusty mirror.
I see that the line between the idea of a person and the reality is being blurred and crossing over into something all-together different. It's as if people are starting to wake up and realize the objectivity of their reality. But that brings into question the basis for which we define reality.
We have become a, “Look but don't touch” society in which we click a button to show our appreciation as opposed to genuinely reciprocating human emotion and energy. It is extremely isolating and dangerous.
Packed subways and sidewalks have fallen eerily silent with faces illuminated by their cellphones. Most everyone wants to be heard, appreciated and recognized and social media has provided an outlet for that.
But there comes a point at which your platform becomes your prison and your voice your warden-- and everything you say is modified to be pleasing to the ear and 'likeable'.
But I like dislikes. And if you're not ******* anyone off-- you're probably not doing anything important, and if you're not outraged you're not paying attention.
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 6:15 PM UTC
The heavy smoke of war lay across the world it was laced with carnage and had the sounds of screaming
Shells and the screams of the dying men but as it continued its drift at the far edges a cloud and mist
Began to diminish the former and distil a brighter future there was the timid glory sounding the
Harking tribute of childlike memories the power of innocence to diffuse the base and inhumane
To spill across these scathing pages an ethereal presence that was empowering of good that
Could and did straddle time and space with magnificence drawing from exploration and history
That beheld the worst but mined the hidden gold to enrich the world it knew secrets that
Exposed the damnable lies that bankrupted former empires we were created to be conquers
Our mettle is an amalgamation of weak flesh but inherit in the confused and reciprocating
Action ultimately a flash of inspiration leaps from the spirit the dead end near sighted flesh was
At the wall of limitation now we stand at the zenith of the universe at its ever increasing of it
Self this inestimable spring of well being floods the low plains we ford these rich waters
Immediately our impoverished cares taste and smell the high and great call of hope we
Instinctively open our heart and mind as a great sail we find our self in the envious position as a
Seafarer our very sinew is awakened to promise and opportunity we have left far behind the
Naysayers we see gifts of beauty spread everywhere where all before was drear now victory is
Courting us to rise to even higher heights boldness infuses our demeanor we now throw off
Yesterdays doubting with eyes that are no longer dim we see with clearest vision and with
Steeled determination former days of being wistful vagabonds is forever forfeited we have the
Right and the might that Lincoln addressed his generation we align ourselves with the high
Ideals of past warriors and martyrs know this our enemies whatever your culture or ideals you
Have come among a stalwart people and the foundations of our forefathers will defeat you the
Same as others who came with inferior and demonized religions know this truth will and has
Made us free look well to yourselves continue and your destruction is guaranteed check the
Harbinger winds and save your selves from the only outcome that will befall you which is
Destruction
Jan 31, 2013
Jan 31, 2013 at 3:43 PM UTC
By the old garages near the railway sidings
slipping or sliding, through the tiding hiding
away, or near to the solemn aspects of ******
with ease, she can tease the eve of your heave-
** or go, no, stay, she says, just today, or all
of your tomorrows shall be forgotten
Lonely was the name on a tag, lagged, left
forgotten at the bottom of the river, where
she lay, today, floating away-
But he stays, the way his spirit lays, let( )down
or all around this town, how it lingers;
the memory of love or lust on drunken Friday
nights by the fright of old Frank Alight, setting
alight the houses in furor, or moor the more
he bores by the moored shore of that amour
armoured, charmed, alarmed at the speech
patterns in the night sky, as she lay down
to die, or to cry, questioning why, Frank
could try and do this, Brutus, brutally
mutually assured destruction, social construction
or constriction, the friction of hands
around the throat, she never floats, just sinks
corpses stink, porous ink stained every lane
leading to the place where in disgrace, he beat
her face, and replaced the lace, in the place
leading to the lake
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 4:54 PM UTC
I was your Harry.
And you were my friend, Hermione.
I liked it when people see us together
And tell us we're fit one another
When in reality,
I was just an extra in your story
I loved you secretly,
Even though reciprocating it is just a fantasy,
And so I watched you end up with my bestfriend, Ron
When I knew that should've been me.
Sep 20, 2017
Sep 20, 2017 at 6:03 AM UTC
Long gone were the times where
we serenade with such love and promise,
the time where you prove everything to show it
in hopes of them reciprocating your calling
Now was when we give gifts, and chocolates,
along with a sea of flowery compliments
A simple "I love you." would do it,
While some prefer that comforting silence,
quiet but genuinely loving.
Oct 2, 2021
Oct 2, 2021 at 4:27 AM UTC
madmen fools and nothing,
the mien — brazen, stupefied glance
and hungry for light, our words gutted
like our enemies in our ill-thought.
this road dredges, the aporetic line
sifting through new divisions, something
an equation forgets the dividend
and almost always a salient permutation
of men and women and the "takatak" boy
peddling cigarettes to claptrap ***
of metal envoys,
reciprocating some chances of restive
dreadnaught, diffusion of sweat in
scalding heat of 12:41 afternoon sun
and smoking with bystanders
unaware of the doldrum and the ennui
it was a fine day in Ortigas.
Nov 26, 2015
Nov 26, 2015 at 11:42 PM UTC
I wonder how they can ask me how I am
With such little emotion in their eyes
Almost as if asking for the state of my being
Is simple courtesy
Nothing more, nothing less
I feel obligated to give them appropriate responses
Reciprocating the lack of emotion
And sincerity
It has become routine
For me to hide such barbaric emotions
I sometime walk with those I call friends
But a strange feeling arises
Where suddenly I really look
Between the group I’m in, and the strangers passing by
And my eyes widen
Because I see no difference
I drown in this
A sea of emotion and human personality
Watered down to its most dilute of senses
By our societal conditioning
Telling us to shove our emotions inside
Away from any grasping hands
I build these walls
Piece by piece by piece
Until I forget to do things which were previously common
Such as feel
And actually care about how you are doing
I let myself go
Carried by the current of this sea
Joining the many others around me already drenched in its expanse
I no longer wonder why they have such little emotion
Only ever replying
“I’m doing well, how are you?”
And even when it isn’t true
I wonder if anyone really cares
Jun 18, 2018
Jun 18, 2018 at 5:19 PM UTC
The cab moved quietly
Beneath the street lamps
Pleather seats: torn, faded
There we sat, silent- content.
The driver, a portly man, hacked
Struggling, his breathing deepened
Panting, gasping to regain regularity
Quickly, his breath filled the
Confined, litter-shrouded,
Van with the stench of
Cheap cigar smoke
We arrived at her home
The driver approached slowly
Carefully avoiding the icy snow
Banked earlier by the cities plows
Sliding the van door open I step out
Still holding her hand, the night air
Enters my lungs, sobering me
Just for that brief instant
Hastily, she leans in
Without hesitation, I meet her
Ambitious advance, reciprocating
The kiss is brief; I’m no longer cold
Her lips are warm and soft against mine
Retreating, she smiles. I gently brush her hair
Behind her ear unveiling a dark brown eye
My glazed, drunk, stare meet hers
Her grin, now beginning to fade
She looks down in confusion
I sense the cab driver behind me
Growing impatient he lights a cigar
Before turning away she whispers night
Her hand lets go of mine; our fingers part
Complacent, tomorrow she will return to him
Revisiting that feigned, simulated, infatuation
The kind they falsely advertised as ‘love’
Standing alone, I’m cold once more
Keying in, she doesn’t look back
Reaching into my pocket
Scrounging for what cash is left
To the cab, I surrender my last five dollars
This pays just enough to get me where I stand
Dissatisfied with his tip, the driver departs cursing
Unsure what to make of the evening, I begin my walk
Now, not so sobering, the night air dries my throat
The chilled breeze that once blushed her cheeks
Now stings my nose, ears, and finger tips
Alone, I continue west- home
Cold, I have miles ahead
Spirit torn in twain
I walk them.
Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 10:03 PM UTC
The birds hang dead, paired, on the hook.
Male and female, man and wife, are strung
Up in a brace of everlasting love,
Still warm. But time will soon freeze over
Freshening blood, encrust the opened eye,
Congeal warmth. And what remains is this:
A neck-to-neck unbreaking dull embrace,
The love gone cold, unbeating hearts kept close,
Reciprocating wounds, an unforgiving stare,
The silence in a breathless, parching throat,
A half-bent wing, refusing to enfold -
Time will wear love’s fingers to the bone.
Then bullet-hardened bodies take their course
And undo softly with a rising rot.
Jan 14, 2011
Jan 14, 2011 at 7:20 AM UTC
A heart clenched
Words stack on my throat
A mortal slowly fading into dust
An echoing dreaded thought "This is how you'll be remembered"
day after wretched day I cling to existence
A glimpse of hope that darkens away
A fragile life filled with poignant thoughts
Tears hidden in a smile
Reminiscing a day long dead
A speck of laughter
'That's a sound I've forgotten'
Enticed into slavery
a life I loathed, but longed for
Gasping for more air
anything,
at least I get to breathe before demise
a certain fate
Sometimes dreams are better than reality
In dreams I don't suffocate
On the weight of my actuality
I don't experience a reciprocating sad story
I am the hero, not the villain
But, this heart has been diced
Tricked into illusions
of a compliment and a potent smile
a deceptive story of a stitched heart
long forgotten
Jul 20, 2016
Jul 20, 2016 at 2:50 PM UTC
The unconditional love we reject from our body calls to be accepted!
------------------
I invite you to witness my apology, by sharing with you an excerpt from my book “Release | Inner Conversations To Lead Us Home” titled ‘“Apology” - Chapter “I See Truth”.
--------------------
Demands imposed on you
Expectations trashed over you
All the years I projected
All my anger onto you
Thank you for holding it
Without reciprocating it
Suppressing your sexuality
Vilifying your ****** pleasures
Imposing punishments
For every desire revealed
Shamed you with guilt
For every sin committed
I’m sorry
The cuts inflicted on you
The hits and slaps
The ****** abuse
The verbal manipulation
Held you hostage
For your survival was only
Granted in suffering
Hostility was made the norm
A punching bag I made of you
I’m sorry
I made you the enemy
Used you as a battle ground
For endless wars
Crushed your enjoyment of life
You didn’t deserve this
I’m sorry
For imprisoning you
Depriving you of all your rights
My freedom was only granted
Upon your suppression
Withholding you from expression
Suffocating you
******* life out of you
Intoxicating you with fear
Injecting you with toxic love
I’m sorry
I emptied you
And fed you with voids
Confining you in a box of labels
Shaming you for being disobedient
Trashing you for not conforming
Name calling
Bullying you
I’m sorry
For every pimple I labeled as ugly
For every mark I marked as dirt
For every stretch mark
I cursed with anger
For every curve
I labeled a disgrace
For every pleasure
I tagged as filth
I shamed you every day
Every second of the day
I bathed you with guilt
Covered you with layers of masks
Endless veils of contours
Spent fortunes to cover you
Inflicted so much pain
To change you
I’m sorry
I didn’t know better
For now I see only
Wrinkles of light
Curves of joy
Freckles of love
Pimples of stars
Hair of divine feathers
******** bursts of love
You are a piece of art
The sanctuary of creation
A miracle in existence
You are love in physical form
A divine vessel
Forgive me
I didn’t love you
As you love me
I didn’t love you
As our creator loved us
Thank you for being here - By NwK
Sep 10, 2024
Sep 10, 2024 at 10:44 AM UTC
There's an explosion of motion
When you own the portion
Reciprocating fish swim through the ocean
Compromising earned positions
absorbed efforts and confiding pawns
Morally right, lost, fully wrong
No matter if bestowed or too long
Taking care by growing strong
Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 3:01 AM UTC