"tangly" poems
I lie and await while you lift off your shirt for me...
I bite my lip and smile, while bending in my leg.
My hair, in a state of disaster,
Messy and tangly, dark rose wine lip stain...
Your ****** monster.
You climb onto the bed with a charm set on your face...
Your expression tells me a ton...
Making my mind ***
You tackle me with your touch as you feel up my legs....
My thigh tingles as you place your fingers inbetween them...
I lick my lips whilst moaning in a sensual pleasure....this feeling of erotica is something like long lost treasure.
Breathe onto my neck....
Feel my heart beat as you turn up the heat.
Baby, make me leak....
I've craved you, an intense arousing feeling comes about...
Love is making us... like ******* is nothing but a poor lust.
Squeeze my *** while I moan....
You pull out your stick ...
Oooh baby it's so thick.
**** me like you need me...
Kiss me fuckin' passionately.
Soulful lust...
Like the earths crust.
Crush me...
Devour me.
Taste me...
Lick me...
Baby just *** me.
I claw the bed sheets while you go deeper in me.
Head tilts back while you grab my throat in hack.
Your back inbedded with ****** scars as I claw and scratch you....
I love it how you do me...
More...
I love you like you have no fuckin' clue...
Adore.
****** tensions build as you kiss me down my hips...
I love the feeling of your soft luscious lips...
Kiss me...
I am everything you liss.
"Lips so french, *** so spanish"
The words escape from your mouth.
**** me right til' I'm too tired to leave you"
I reply in truth.
Passionate love so good you got me in a sensual mood.
Sweat drippin' down our bodies...
I love the sensual lust...
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 4:18 AM UTC
there was this girl i used to know
she was like this
skateboard girl
tangly hair girl
homemade pretzel girl
fire escape girl
cigarette girl
different when it was just us girl
tough girl
tomboy girl
save the animals girl
god knows where she is now girl
mazel tov, ******* girl
god, i was so hooked on you girl
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 9:12 PM UTC
I am trying to write poetry about flowers,
The messy, spillingover kind, rioting, too
Bright, so alive something in me cracks like sidewalks
When tree roots push up the concrete like When molars
Erupt from sore gums that time she said when I grew
Too big for carrying, I had to learn how to talk
like an adult. Whatever. Money. Car. *** Pill.
Capitalism. Work. Responsibility.
But something about tangly sunbright flowers still
makes my heart say whee.
Sep 7, 2016
Sep 7, 2016 at 1:34 PM UTC
I think about you every single day still.
even though it's been over a year since my heart was ripped out, I still wish it would be you to stitch it back together.
I don't want some guy who's name I don't even know stitching it back together after I've drank so much my head spins, but that's normally how it goes.
a new boy told me he liked me today and since he smelled like you I almost kissed him.
but if I would have kissed him, his lips wouldn't mold to mine like yours so willingly did.
sometimes I can swear I can still feel your fingertips tracing my thighs.
my fingers still aren't very sure how to grasp things because they still want it to be you I'm grasping, not the toilet bowl I'm throwing up into after a night of drowning my sorrows in *****
my thoughts still echo your name, but I can't tell whether it's from me missing you so dearly, or from me wanting to strangle you for cracking me in half.
I think about how we knocked the pictures off the wall when I pushed you into it with lust, and then we laughed so hard that we ruined the moment so beautifully.
sometimes I think I can hear your voice in the blanket you gave me after I told you I couldn't sleep without your arms around me, which then causes me to start weeping and shout your name into it which somehow still smells like you.
I've washed my hair over 300 times, but I still can't seem to get it to go back to the way it was so now it's still as tangly as it was that Saturday morning, and still smells like your pillow and cologne.
the butterflies in my stomach turn into piranhas whenever I see you, and they rip apart my insides and it leaves me bleeding for days.
I still think about that one time when I woke you up at 2 am when I called you sobbing, and you picked me up and we drove for three hours because you thought I'd rip my veins out even though I'd been so good for so long.
my dad asked me if I wanted him to paint over the writing on my wall from when we'd been together for a year and you wrote that you'd love me forever, but I told him no because it's all I really have left of you anymore.
you grew daisies in my heart and watered them with your kisses and love, but now there's just dust left from the tornado that ran across my insides the night you left me.
I remember when you told me it was over and I collapsed on the sidewalk where we had out first kiss, and I screamed at the moon swearing I was going to die that night.
I told myself I was going to close my heart and close the box of butterflies so my love for you would die.
I closed it. there is no more heart. and there are no more butterflies.
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 10:43 PM UTC
tangly hair and light pink nails
a pretty little mess
disaster's got his eyes on you
and your black sequin dress
you sniff and sneeze just what you please
when all you want is wine and cheese
you've sent your brain over the seas
and give your love the rose gold keys
Dec 22, 2015
Dec 22, 2015 at 12:04 AM UTC
Baby called me Rusalka,
having the same number of syllables as my name.
Moonlight tossed me in a river to awake
fins from my toenails
to bird-sing to the handsome until I am unalone
mortality, mortality
as clean as the banks of a landfill.
Our child would nap in a basket of ripe fruit
strung to a willow and birch
description of me, “perpetually wet from something”
or alexandrite
golden by dusk though with a jade sunburn;
hair so long
would *** a rainforest’s feet if it had a pair.
Suicide on the tip of one’s tongue
now saltwater buoyant on the roof of a mouth
I was out of wedlock,
mother anchored my wrists with tangly fieldroots
right below our old tire swing
and
Baby simply meant I touch
everyone with my laugh, and it makes them dead.
May 17, 2013
May 17, 2013 at 3:39 PM UTC
Current emotions are like,
As, Bs, Cs.
It's like preferring tea but you're caffeinated by the idea of reality.
Current emotions are like,
Asking people who kept away from living.
If they are afraid of dying.
Current emotions won't let me explain,
How it feels like to be different.
Or somewhat unusual.
Always being the one to hear but they won't offer to listen.
Being left behind by the people who you loved dearly.
Current emotions is a pain,
A burden.
It drove me insane.
I can't even talk to my friends about the plant I have growing inside me.
The roots are deeper, grasping strongly.
No poison I could take to **** it.
Current emotions are tangly,
Like your earphones every time you place it inside your bag,
It's teary and wavy,
Like the paper soaked in the tears I had held on for so long.
Current emotions are;
Flattened.
Jun 6, 2017
Jun 6, 2017 at 11:31 AM UTC
My truest self is June, 2014. I've just returned from France and I'm excited to simply wake up each morning having no idea where the **** I'll go with the rest of my life. I have no job, no real priorities, just curiosity. I'm still a ****** I've never told someone I loved them. I've got too many black clothes in my closet and I'm convinced I'm the long lost southern spice girl. My hair is ombre and I haven't cut it in three years. I gave my friend Sydney my shoes because she needed a pair. I listened to Sylvan Esso's new album in a bathtub for five hours in a hotel room in Marseille- day dreaming about all the different people I could pretend I was that day. I hadn't lost anyone before. I was writing beautiful tangly words everyday. I was no one's but my own. everything was going in my favor. I was happy and far too curious for my own good.
But curiosity killed the cat, and here I am on my ninth life walking on egg shells trying to keep it all together.
May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 12:53 AM UTC
New heart
Old heart
Fused together so perfectly
The torn pieces
The frayed
All sewed and mended
But not new,
No they wouldn’t be, would they?
I am sitting here
At 9:39
At night
In the cold
Chilling silence
Of my childhood bedroom
A place of pain I forgot to abandon
And I’m feeling manic
Enraged and enticed
By foggy drunk memories
Of your soft tangly hair
In my mouth
And between my fingers
But this poem isn’t for you
My peach
My perfect pear
(but isn’t it always really
about you, my love?
Don’t you live forever
In the back of my mind?)
No
Not now, I won’t think
I can’t think
I’ll just watch the curser
Flashing curiously at the top of the page
And dwell on how unutterably
******
my life has become
My life
With it’s twists and turns
It’s cruel little jokes
I am a punching bag for the universe
I am the teacher
The one the boys learn to be better from
Only to practice on soft
Untattered
Unbroken women
Those who can’t do
Teach
And I can’t do love.
Jan 3, 2012
Jan 3, 2012 at 8:36 PM UTC
She traced for me a kiss so sweet
A flower grew between our teeth,
Four arms they wove a tangly wreath
In a bed of summer leaf.
Feb 26, 2021
Feb 26, 2021 at 1:18 PM UTC
She smiles coyly,
Playing with her wild tangly mane.
She ***** her head to the side,
Scoots a little closer and says:
"I'd like to think that I tend to trip more people
Than I fall for."
Sep 16, 2013
Sep 16, 2013 at 3:28 PM UTC
escaping through his body fantasizing about the touch of your skin through his scratchy tissue
closing my eyes tighter as I'm kissing him to somehow force his lips to morph into yours
running my fingers through his tangly knots that sprawl across his skull while falsely believing the tighter I pull the more his locks will begin to feel like they belong on your head
brought back to reality as I notice the greenish grey light given out through his eyes that just don't match up with your brown beauty
I pull away remembering I can not find you in someone else and while I may feel like this is the only way I can go on happily knowing you're not mine he does not even compare to your soft touch and it was unfair of me to think I could ever replace someone still stitched into my heart
flowing through my brainwaves and constantly being reflected somewhere behind the chambers of my eye
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 9:47 PM UTC