Do you remember the humid red that stained your cheeks?
Do you recall the sultry desire that overran your judgments?
Do you maybe reminisce on the unsynchronized gasping of needed breath?
Do you recollect on ripped clothing during insistent moments of unshakeable craving?

Because it was this unshakeable craving that controlled you, it overtook you and you forgot to resist. It was this unshakeable craving that let you remember, recall, reminisce, recollect on your sticky love.  

Do you remember the burning of skin as you transferred heat?
        Or the pressing up against the door?
        Or curled toes?  
        Or the paralyzing quivers?
Do you recollect on the sweatiness amongst the heavy sheets?
Do you perhaps reminisce on how it felt like an addiction you couldn’t overcome?
Do you recall the “no-it’s-not”, but really it was?

Because really, it was.
It was the sum of these parts, but they oddly equated to more.                  
It was this “no-it’s-not”, when really it was, that let you remember, recall, reminisce, recollect on your sticky love.

Do you remember what it was?
Do you recall wanting, needing, yearning?
Do you recollect messy hair, breathlessness, than the stillness?
Do you reminisce on this quiet stillness?

Because it was this stillness that lets you remember, recall, recollect on, reminisce on your sticky love.

the day in the park when you told me you loved me i noticed things that i never noticed before. your hair looked darker than usual and i ran my fingers through it almost absent-mindedly, a quick action that happened before i could process it. my fingertips came back wet.
saturday morning and clearly straight from the shower you smelt of deodorant, that lovely boy smell, of something fresh and clean but with the hint of sweat already from the walk over here which made me wonder why you ever even bothered with showers, when i liked the ***** sweatiness of your skin more than anything.
spring was sprung, flowers everywhere, the council gardeners pruning and weeding every afternoon when i wandered this way after school, but blissfully absent this morning, you and i lone lovers on a lark.
i noticed the dandelions were swaying, how picturesque, us in that strange place between friends and more, and the grass wet and dewy beneath our feet, rose bushes lining the path. but we strayed from that path, we did. you stole my hand and we started running, you raucous and wild, a lion inside a boy, and me, following and cautious but laughing.
there was this lovely weeping willow, the branches dangling gorgeous leaves, sweeping the ground, a curtain of green which you parted and brushed aside like the way you sometimes brush my hair from my face. under that weeping willow things happened.
“i can’t deny it,” you said. you said, as you touched my hair and my face and no other part of me, so intimate and courageous with my heart beating faster than any other saturday morning. “i can’t deny the fact that i love you,” and you were pushing me back as you stepped forward, little nudges in the hip and the shoulder and then maybe just hard enough to leave a bruise you pushed me against the trunk of the tree. as steady as i was weak.
i checked later, at home, safe in my bedroom with the curtains closed, in the almost dark i pulled off my shirt and checked, and yes you did, you did leave a bruise, but it was not as painful nor as potent as when you finally finally finally kissed me, your lips air as i was drowning, against that weeping willow with your hands finally finally finally on my waist and stomach and *******, and the fire you started in my heart as stupid as it sounds that has not and will not burn out, the pain of having to leave you at my doorstep and waiting until the next time you could relinquish my need, and now after we’re broken up the pain of not knowing if i’ll ever feel those lips again.
the bruises on my skin do not even begin to rival the internal bruising of that first kiss.

Show me the Milky Way
I need to taste its creaminess
Mixed with your luring sweatiness
Because I'm trapped and you're ok

When I am wide awake each night
Not able to discern reality from dream
I go to the fridge in search of whipped cream
And everything feels just alright

But then the morning comes
The sun's so bright with searing heat
Its color vermilion indeed
And then again, I'm longing for the night and stars.

He was so sexually suave and strong,
a shimmery dream with high rising scenes,
overflowing with spectacular adjectives
and swagger, his eyes a paradise of vowels
bright diction with friction, sensuous nonfiction
with a descriptive definition.  His lips were softly
pink as the roses that bloom in the summertime
gardens, his distinguished beard growing
so beautifully, his hair filled with deep black
waves that I could gaze at for days and escape
inside his awakening nation.  I was engaged
by your exquisite sweetness, the urgency
of your verbs so firm and flawless, streaming
in his extensive content, his body and soul
written in prose, his dreadlocks swaying
in harmonious motion, so fixated on his manly
creation, the way his supreme scent streamed
in my nose, drawing me closer into his kingdom.
I enjoyed his serene warmth, his deepest desires,
his moisturized skin so satisfying, smelling like
dove, all clean and crisp, your golden earrings
And necklaces shimmering like a green gem.
I took in your dark eyebrows, your pieced nose,
your oval-shaped face so addictively gratifying,
finding delight in the way your physique glides
and spellbinds my thoughts, just turn off the lights
and let me linger in your life.  Surprise me exciting
treats, let me hit the blunt with you, let me get
essentially high, take shots after shots of Hennessy
as we become dizzy, our heads spinning in the wind,
covered in luscious sweatiness.

Hand in Hand.

Your hands were the first thing I loved.
Chapped by harsh times
We held them clasped together till the life was choked out of us
Hands embraced around feelings and hormones.
Clasped so tightly we took a blind leap over the cliffs of loneliness
The landing is always rough but I still miss their warmth.
Hand in hand hearts entangled then broken apart by the tie loosened.
Still the sweet sweatiness of time and love embraced by a firm
grasp of wanting to be comforted.
And maybe held close in a digital embrace.
Hands so warm at first, cooled by time and impact
Still memories of them remain
Chapped but integral to a thing that was true then apocryphal.


-Fin.

it feels like nobody understands
understands the pain
understands the confusion
understands the worry
understands the tingle in my body
understands the rapid heartbeat
understands the shaking
understands the sweatiness
understands the coldness
understands the endless thoughts
understands the constant overthinking

nobody understands the suffering I deal with in the life
of my anxiety disorder.

I once felt them in my bones
Now they’ve lingered to my soul
My muscles no longer ache
It’s my mind I now can’t control
It’s now the burning sensation in my chest
The sweatiness in my palms
Skin picking
Nail biting
Shakiness in my hands
I guess these are just the symptoms of getting old

His masculinity spun me in extreme degrees,
covered me in his enamoredness, his opalescent
rivers of seeping steam that magnetized me,
entrapped me in his immensely exalted art,
his concupiscent skin engrossing me,
carrying me down under to his seemingly
endless labyrinths where his secrets were revealed.

I melted like crystal ice in a large silvery pitcher,
leaking unremittingly, powerless in his majesty,
spaced out, soaring in the night, intoxicated
by his sublime, unconquerable manhood,
his body so right and ripe, fantasizing about him
every night, singing to the swaying of his thrilling
torpedo, how he stroked his mouthwatering meat
so erotically, inveigling me in his naughtiness.

The feel of his amber skin had me trembling within,
clinging to his kingdom, every fraction of his attraction,
analyzing his sleekness, drifting into dizziness and sweatiness
as he became my weakness, everything that I wished
to tame, painting him so realistically in the various realms
of oozing milk and flavored honey, reveling in his unsurpassable
palace of hidden lasciviousness, losing my mind in it all.

I swallow your rivers
of lyrical lushness,
bathing in your brilliant rhythms,
encased in your taste,
navigating your celestial space.

Take me to the greatest dynasties
of your inviting desires,
allow me to feel your fire,
heating me every hour,
reeling me into your flight
by the sound of your lyre

My mouth clings to yours,
crossing the borders of uncertainties
to reach the extensive shores
of tingling thrills and chill ***,
our flesh submerged in incessant sweatiness,
unable to pull away from each other.

Shower to wash away my dark thoughts.
Letting the waters drench me.
Shower to clean me of sweatiness from walking around town.
Shower to stop thinking of the past.

Your kisses were sweet like
salt water taffy, they lingered
on my mind for awhile.

Sadly like seasons things change.

The fall came, love turned brown
and yellow, it's leafs dead and
blew away.

The sweatiness of your kisses went
sour, now it lingers for awhile.

Soured kisses are left behind.

©️ 2022 By Amanda Shelton