"touchings" poems
The many ways he is legal.,Legit and lit..
With 3 A.M to finish it!
He ever so slightly gives..
Her a passions mind hickey.
F.ck..up.. savory
Like shivering kisses mind hiccups.
unspoken...................................attention given.
Make's her shiver he's a mental ******** giver..
Make's her mind moist and inquisitive.
At the sign of any confusion.
It's his penetrative foreplay.
Its the lyrics used to seductively play.
Tools He uses..their selective differences.
Just before 3 a.m.
She floats adrift softly melting H.i.m.
Talking everything comprehensively through.
Rocks her mindful emotions.
Mind F**kin sweet potions.
non-trivial notions.
Following every word she's relaying.
All before the 3 a.m. relating.
By day he's catering appetizers of verbal compliments.
Sharing of the days events.
when they are away from one another.
They are texting each other.
By evening.........
his texting feels like gentle
whispering!
Making His next text something she's craving.
Neva leaving her guessing what He is doing.
Neva askin her wyd?
Mental interactions are tender touchings.
Mind F**kin.. A tender kind of existing.
As they both be falling.
By the time its 3 a.m.
Oceans colliding.. erupting.. exploding. mental explosion.
3 a.m. dammn she's already had many ******* heightened chills.
Body follows every moment. No hesitations so receptive.
They are such Intellectual souls..
The body is prepped it always follows.
3 a.m Anything Goes.
By 7 a.m exhaustion so good sets in.
Physical resting so sweet.. yet mentally he's ready with a grin.
Just to start a new day all over with her again.
by selinasharday 4-2018...H.I.M (he is mine)
Apr 10, 2018
Apr 10, 2018 at 9:28 PM UTC
When singing songs they are a chorus
of me and my shadows together opening
our mouths (kisses at a distance
some touchings of the self: love). When bees
buzz by the way that they do I imagine they
buzz by via their own tunes and not the wind:
which happens to be around their wings. To sing
is something so simple and selfish and sweet
and right—wouldn't you like to know? —and when
you do it everything becomes yourself like a shiver.
When I am with you: myself: the world
is so much with us while really it is not,
but to sing it is good and is right and is sweet and is selfish so simple.
Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 6:45 PM UTC
I have forgotten all our days,
All words which you wrote to me.
Will you say that it is a mistake now?
The only thought of you had make me cry,
Now I dont know for what I need regret.
I needed to breathe, but you broke me.
How can I forgive you my death
How can I...
Now you're so bad, I can't even remember your smile.
Was you only one who loved me? (say yes)
Now you're so bad, I can't even remember your touchings to me.
Why I wanna see you cry? please, tell me, tell me...
All of that promises of infinity
We wanted it so much.
But why I don't cry now?
Maybe if our last meeting wasn't so vagueness,
Maybe then I would be sad
Please, take my hand
and
never leave.
Was you only one who loved me?
Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 7:15 AM UTC
you make fun
of my poem about sunlight
shining through your hair
the poem about how our hands
are created to fit perfectly
with the others
i understand
why you doesn't understand
but listen:
my love for you
can not be counted in touchings
or flowers or blushing
it will not be seen og heard
in the curve of my smile
or in the rhythm of my heart
mostly
you will only see it in my words
that become hundreds of poems
about how your eyes
become another colour
as your mood changes
and about how you laughter
fells like kisses across my cheekbone
about how
you are my sun and my moon
and all the starts and galaxies
caught in 179 centimers
if kindness
my love for you
can be seen
in the way my hands cramps
after i've written your name
all over the toilet door
it is seen
in the filled trashcan
with crumpled pieces of paper
because you don't deserve misspellings
or wrong punctuation
you don't even deserve
poorly written poems
you deserve real words
and a mouth
whom dares to speak int he daylight
instead of writing
on the lowest point of your back
and that is why
i smile and laugh
and reach out
for the paper in your hands
whispering april fools
and go home to the burn
my collection of poems
about your hair
and the sun shining through
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 11:54 AM UTC
I stand alone, feet bare, at precipices' edge.
I feel the wind, a gentle embrace, breathy,
Infinite caress, enveloping my soul in the
Eternity of acceptance. Irises shut, against
the gentle piercing of dawns red-gold,
tender radiance, I gaze into the
kaleidoscopic configurations of Eternity,
and see all, in dazzling brightness.
the winds caress comes now, softly, soft,
as the reverent touchings of the Lovers,
gentle in their adoration, lost in their worship,
of love, of life, of each other..
I inhale, slowly, the air warm and strange,
and infinitely tender, alive in itself,
and in its love of everything, of the world,
and of the multicolored ecstasies' of
Eternity...
I breathe, and, slowly, I grow, expanding
outwards, encompassing everything, and
inwards, becoming nothing...and I discover
the learnings of my secret heart..
I breathe...and I release, everything..
softly, I dissipate, my body released,
become one with the world; with the air,
with the stone, with earth, with life,
with love...
I remain there, awhile longer, existing in
peace, and in the love of spirit...I breathe,
deeply, once. I open my eyes...and see
my face, there before me, smiling, out of
a cracked, and broken mirror; and there
is the light of Eternity in my skin, in my
smile...and there is everything and
nothing, in the Eternity of my eyes.
Nov 2, 2016
Nov 2, 2016 at 5:03 PM UTC
dream-bones stay long after
he has woken up:
bright, lightweight and silvery.
fused together by memories
and the sleepy recollections of them.
hips joined to ex-lovers and their feathery touchings.
these hollow bones can fly
not on wings, on the rush of nostalgia
high, before a fall.
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 7:49 AM UTC