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Alex Apples Jun 2014
breaking ice in my mineral water
lime spritzing the air and
dripping down my fingertips
as i twist it and sip its tang
hot sunlight radiating on my
body until the sweat glistens
at even the slightest movement
the rustle of well-worn pages
his sharp Adam's apple
rolls ever so slightly with a swallow
of the sparkling glass
the bubbles, like tiny diamonds
the hiss of the sprinkler next door
and the squealing chortles
of the neighbor kids running in it
chocolate melting on my tongue
chair squeaking when I recline

Happy is as happy does, but
I'm thankful happy's mine.
Jenay Breden Dec 2012
When this life finally stops, toward the ocean I will find myself.

Sit on the shore, and dig my toes in the sand.

On a foggy day, I'll wander under the dock, and not focus on that ticking clock.

The grey-blue haze, that sits on the washing waves.

Matches the color of my eyes.

I close them and imagine diving into the curling white water.

My legs start to bind together.

And where my ribs used to be, Gills start to piece together.

I swim and swim and twist and turn. And jump.

God it feels so free, just the ocean and me.

My lips spread into a smile, the wind sweeps across my face, and kisses my ears.

A toothy grin.

I open my eyes.

I'm still on this shore.

Standing up, I lightly step some-what on my tippy toes.

The oceans comes up to greet me, licking my feet.

I spread my arms out like I'm on a balance beam.

And turn in circles and start to sing.

Humming softly to myself, singing to the ocean a melody.

I flick the water with my feet, and keep walking in that teasing tide.

I pencil turn, and reach up and back down, drag my fingers in the water.

As I come up, SWISH, throwing the water across the space.The blowing wind, spritzing mist in my face.

I smile and dance, while the ocean and I hold hands.

I laugh and smile all alone.

But its drown out by the oceans dragging moan.

And I sit in the water like I'm 6 years old.

Starring out into that grey-blue foggy world.

I crawl a little deeper and start to slink around.

Touching the sand and smelling the water.

Dear god mother nature, how amazed I am to be your daughter.

Gently letting myself sink, I dig my hands down deep in the sand.

Pulling myself along the floor, letting the sand sweep down my body.

Forcing myself to the top, I briefly stop to rush my lungs with good ole' air.

Before sinking back down, until just my eyes show above the water.

Peepin my peepers back to shore.

And for a minute I see myself sitting there on the shore.

Staring out on the ocean.

I stand up, still wading in the water.

She stands up too. We look at each other from our distance.

Just watching, observing and there's no resistance.

We just stand and stare.

Are we one person or a pair?

I look to my left, and my right.

Look back at her, and wonder if she's alright.

I wave at her and she waves back.

That's all that's done, and we are one, and now we're back and she is gone.

Was she a part of me?

The one looking longingly into the sea?

Or just a figment of who used to be.

Two different worlds, living as one, walking further towards open water.

I move on.

It's getting stormy and starts to rain.

I get antsy and start swaying, with every wave that crashes through my chest.

I wait for the next,

Rolling monster and dive right through it's growling stomach.

So smoothly gliding back to the surface.

It's getting darker and the fog rolls in stronger.

I swim head first, crawling over every wave.

Reaching open water where the waves are much smaller.

Treading I move myself 360.

Nothing and no one but the grey-blue fog around me.

It's an eerie feeling but it feels just right.

Out here with no one-nothing in sight.

I turn on my back and float around, my ears under water listening to the oceans sound.

I can hear myself breathing, and the faint sound of my heart beating.

Ba-thump, Ba-thump, Ba-bathump, Ba-bathump. Beating faster and faster.

Pushing my up out of my daze.

Why had my heart rate started to raise?

Tilt my body back till my feet dangle towards the oceans seemingly never ending depth.

I spin slowly around.

Pure silence except for my treading breath.

I turn around again and again once more.

My eyes stop wide and I nearly sink.

When not 10 feet from mine, a large fin, sitting on a monsters spine.

It's just a fact, there's not much I can do.

But keep treading and despite the view.

Take in this marvelous creature, keep myself calm hoping he's not thinking "I'm gonna eat her!"

But the reality is that fin's getting closer.

I'm not afraid.

Accepting yes, because I am in the presence of greatness.

You have to respect the realm your in, and understand,

If you choose to swim, that you may drown if your not strong.

And you could be devoured before long.

Treading still I keep my will, breath in deep and then exhale.

Creeping closer, unusually slow

The fin disappears somewhere below.

My heart is in my mouth, and my spine feels weak.

I keep breathing slow, in and out.

I look across the water and up at the sky.

I let myself drift a little vertical,

As my pupils line up with the waters edge.

Slowly in this foggy grey-blue blanket.

I pedal myself around.

Not a foot away from me, that fin rises slowly, menacingly.

My eyes lock on that fin, and I watch it pass right around me, back to where it began.

Again and circle twice.

I reached my hand out.
Quinn Mar 2011
you walk in
i'm standing there
spritzing lingerie
to make it reek
like high class prostitutes
do after a night
when the cash flow
is non-stop

"Hi how are you today?"
"Grumble, grrrrr, grumble."
"Can I help you find anything?"
"Well, grrrr, I want the bra, arrrggghhh, I've got on. LOOK AT IT!"

i slowly approach,
postponing the inevitable
for as long as possible
as you lift your ancient
once black, now grey, turtleneck
and release an avalanche
of layer after layer of blubber
that jiggles ever so slightly
as it is disturbed by the movement

it is covered in a thick forest
of black hairs and
i swear i see a herd of lice
scurry off as i cautiously
lift my hands to inspect
the tag laying in the depths
of the jungle that lays thick on your back

the moment i make contact
with your skin
it takes all of my willpower
not to pull away in disgust
as my fingers go
for a ride on the slip n' slide that
is your back
it feels as if you have been
bathing in Crisco since
you were just a child

as i finally grasp the
worn and stretched material
and turn it over
i'm not surprised
to find that your bra
feels as if it just went for a swim
in Onondaga Lake
mmm, sweet, sweet radioactive sweat

i fumble around looking for
any indication of a tag
as you begin to tap your
foot with no rhythm at all
and suddenly you exclaim,
"OH, I cut the tag out of this ages ago!"
and storm away back into the mall
throwing bows and ***** looks
as you go

i'm left staring
as my sweat saturated hands
thinking,
"**** Victoria and her secrets."
©erinquinn2011
Quinn Mar 2016
i've heard of my harshness
my entire life, the way
that my words dig tiny
holes in hurt feelings and
infest psyches with
second guesses until
madness consumes the
unfortunate recipient of
my terrible truths

they are only truths after all,
honesty is the best policy
plays on repeat behind
closed eyelids as i think
before i speak

none of this is senseless,
maybe it's that i suffer
from a seemingly sweet face
as an accompaniment to
my realism, or
perhaps you're just too
******* sensitive

i picture myself taking
sandpaper to my tongue,
spritzing my brain with
lavender extract, and
instead of word *****
i regurgitate daisies
Nyx Apr 2024
Holding a long forgotten bottle
Spritzing it into the air
As the particles sparkle like pixie dust
Glistening gently as you stare

Breathing in the luscious scent
That reminds you of the past
A nostalgic fever rushes over
From the days you wore it last

Flooding your mind like a river
Overwhelming you with youth filled visions
From the you who wore this delicate scent
The you who couldn’t make decisions

As the scent fades away
You return the bottle you found
There it will continue collecting dust
Placed gently without a sound
It’s strange how a certain scent of perfume can bring back so many memories from the past
This, my friends, is an anthem –
For the ones who feel small; the introverts,
The ones who believe in things so much
They can feel it in their bones, yet at the end
Of the day refuse to believe in themselves.
You are all beautiful.
I don’t mean that in the socially-constructed,
Warped, narrow-minded sense of the word.
You are beautiful for your raw, honest souls
Your unique individuality, and the love
For every living thing you pour outward
In a radial, sunshine-spritzing way –
Promise me you won’t forget to love yourselves in return.
Yes, you, the ones who believe in second chances,
Big droplets of rain, the first snowfall of winter,
And the rejuvenating cycle of leaves.
The ones who believe in the sound
Of typewriter keys and songbirds
And the beauty of stars after a long day.
If all other things deserve the greatest joy
We call happiness, then so, my dear,
Beautiful soul-friends, deserve all the happiness
This great big world can contain.
Brad Lambert Sep 2012
This was the tree I first slept beneath.

It was summertime then, when
nights were warmed by hot breezes
and spritzing sodas were the drink of choice.

She could overthrow a king with the fall of her leaves.

These leaves fallin’ a’briskin’ the air
hung-hangin’ leaves in air cold and frozen—
iced off leaves hangin’ a’swayin’ like a gallow’d man.

Now she is gold and old and losing leaves.

These leaves crinkle like foil
snap, crunch, crinkle
Oh I do hope they are ok.

I pray that Winter will be good to her.

They say it will be a cold one,
I think to myself as I rest against her.
The air smells spiced and dry.

I hope she will be ok.
Shylah S Jun 2013
Whispering soft words in your ear,
Do you hear me?
Intertwining my fingers through yours,
Do you feel me?
Leaning in for a lipstick stained kiss,
Do you taste me?
Spritzing rose perfume in the crevice of my neck,
Do you smell me?
Scribbling words against the creamy pages,
Do you see me?
Understanding my every thought, word and touch,
**Do you love me?
Abaigeal Skye Jun 2014
You know those kids spritzing febreeze perfume,
Rollin' by, no curfew soon.
Shades on past the afternoon,
They have what they need and they don't need you.
Sarah Aug 2016
Screen door, sunny patio
swing with pillows
hanging feet
slices of clementines so
small in my
hands

bronze sun tea
and drooping plants
sprinklers spraying water
spritzing fresh cut
grass

late sun dusk
sleepy cats
never wanting
June to end

this is falling in love with a
friend
Dylan Mcconnell Nov 2017
Love. Love is so much. Love can be that hug you get at just the right moment. Love can be the song she showed you. Love can be the first time you two had *** on the bathroom floor. Love can be an object.

Love is the sound of a pen writing and typewriter clicks. Love is the sound of keypad clicks because you know that means they're typing something just for you. Love is playlist after playlist. Love is the sound of knitting needles going back and forth and back and forth because she's knitting the scarf for you. Love is the sound of the perfume/cologne bottle spritzing. Love is the sound of pottery. Love is the sound of comforting words. Love is the sound of confessions late at night. Love is the sound of hang-up buttons and cars starting up. Love is.

Love is the feeling of the universe and stars moving to my brain stem and *******. Love is the feeling of you kissing my lips and moving slowly until you're at my collarbone. Love is the feeling of you moving my fingers to match yours. The feeling of poetry being written about me. The feeling of the zoo and butterflies, and even the robin outside moving around in my stomach because that's how you make me feel. Love is.

Love is the sight of you in the red dress that I bought you for our one month anniversary. Love is the sight of the paragraphs when I wake up. Love is the sight of seeing your wrist clean for a year. Love is the sight of waking up and realizing it's our one year anniversary. Love is the sight of nakedness. Love is the sight of you smiling. Love is the sight of our first date and delicious looking food.

Love is the smell of ha long bay and ginger tea. The smell of perfume on your girly days and the cologne on your not so girly days. Love is the smell of our house, along with bath and body works. Love is the smell of your hugs and your chapstick. Love is the smell of fresh vinyl and flower bouquets. Love is the smell of marshmallows and a crackling fire. Love is the smell of **** on my favorite sweatshirt. I love the smell of your sweatshirt and that's perfect.

Love is the taste of ha long bay. Love is the taste of her lips and chapstick against me. Love is the taste of wine and blood. Love is the taste of well, love. Not much to say for taste is there? Love is you.
Jimmy silker May 12
Feels like it hasn't rained in weeks
But there was
A spritzing just now
Lasted but a few minutes
All the clouds would allow
So there is that fragrance
That's hard to describe
Wet dust
Doesn't quite cover it
But it makes me feel alive.
It makes you remember.
janie lay Apr 19
spritzing a cat will make it hiss.
it will scratch with persistence
and bite, despite resistance.
calloused hands never stop
even when they reach soft skin.
they just continue to hurt you
with tears in their eyes.
Justin S Wampler Nov 2022
Lies and deceit are a heavy spritzing of perfume,
truth and honesty are a rotting carcass in the ditch.


Both are bitter and sickly-sweet to my nose,
and if my eyes are going to water either way
then what does it even ******* matter.
The Fire Burns Aug 2017
Pink tip blossoms,
tightening hard as,
the hot night falls,
a dewy breeze tightens the buds.

I lavish attention on her red canna,
spritzing each folded petal,
making sure each one has been explored,
and pampered.

Slowly I plow the field,
breaking each bit of ground,
opening it further,
readying it for the down pour.

The storm builds,
approaching inch by inch,
the sounds are unmistakable,
then suddenly a flash flood.

As morning light starts,
the garden I start to tend,
natural beauty,
appreciated.
Gurgles and steam; coffee brewing
In an unkept home

Meatless young elbows jarring from
Open, wind capturing clothes

Dirt stained into soft kneecaps
Where the light wrinkles arise

The unseen preying of grays
Onto the young bright mother of May

The photographs freeze her
Before her gentle demise

Spritzing water spews softly sizzling
Few nozzles survived garage winter

The dampening sun-
Mosquitos ate at all, leaving none

Sweet tangerine smells
Swatting of fruit flies from the treasure
Once was held
Johnny Noiπ Jul 2018
Mother         used to tell me
presentation   is everything
before spritzing
               strawberry water
on the gray bush, still
flecked w/               rich         red;
old chasm
tight & juicing;
opening         to say hello;
grandmother's
rebellion; at 16
he chowed
like porcelain        false teeth
& licked                her **** like
an outstanding     pearl
     in a wet            oyster:
it was the best wettest  
           afternoon ever;
as  the sun went over
mount Fuji in shadows
           & the
nun sighed like a Burmese Buddha -

— The End —