Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Alicia Apr 2021
you sear me
a match burning slowly down to its tip
hands like thundershock on bare skin
caressing progressing movements
near grey eyes
goosebumps
shivering
slivering
sliding
grab me by my white cotton shirt
fistfuls of unspeakable passion
I fall deeply
serenity found
on your concrete chest
For my husband Thomas
Penne Jul 2019
Glass seeing through glass
Is it as clear though?
Cannot see through this facade
Since I am the facade
These prism of spectacles are all part of me
You are easy to hook
Since you are an open book
Now you are fully booked
And I am overlooked
But what about us, microorganisms?
They say if you can read people
Then you are unreadable
Predict the unpredictable
Just another floater in the eye
Until it was just a dusted sparksfly
Interconnection
Macro up to micro concoction
Yet why are we in disconnection?
I wish to disconnect from the world in peace
But you want to connect to me
Who are you
What the readers are thinking too
Do not need a metaphor that we are in the same class
No science can explain
The human field and brain
In this world of ecosystem chain
Eat me as main
Why do I always have to fall in love those who I can only see through the window
I am the type who never leave the  shadows
No matter what I do, I will just end up being a widow in a wide meadow
Sleep to the glades until they are just fleece and eaten by my kind of fleas
A specimen to all these hungry men
I am just as absolute zero as the bacteria glycerol stock
What to do when I am born to be stuck in that flock
Do we exist like water and rock
Or are you and your significant one co-exist like that?
Thundershock at the aftershock
Of you two drying up together
Came the realization that there is after laughter
I am complicated and I hate it
I am complicated and I hate it
Space for this antimatter
For you are what matters
Or else we are tested by scientists
During this niche
And then by mentalists, instrumentalists...
Wonder if you will wait for me
Serve me as the last dish
In your petri dish
Perish might that wish
Until I do not last
Romancesque: A Collection (pt. 4)
Pt. 5: https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3224100/a-boat-ride-to-548th-st/

— The End —