"uncross" poems
Read your mind, and wrote back. Your body language, crossed the line. Your wet spots, one track. Taking my time, laying you. Face flat, pulling on your hair, head back. Hands spreading your thighs, take that. Two fingers inside, now taste that.
Baby you looked surprised, I wasn’t telling you lies. I can touch the back. I got one thing on my mind, shivers upon down your spine, you quiver. Me on top of you, turn things around, you looking back. Coming one after another, from different points of view, imagine that. Read between the lines, and found you; sitting on my lap. kept crossing my mind, uncross your legs, red your lips; love doing that. Spread your legs, relax your hips, and lean back. I take a sip, a little lick, then a kiss - now that's that. I grind your hips, you like that? My tongue, flicks your tip, you like this; you bite your lip, your waist lifts. Your pleasure. My bliss.
You come with your eyes closed; cause I take you back. I thought you were a good girl, well, I take it back. Curl my finger, you *** harder like that. You only put up a fight, cause you know I’ll bite back.
Aug 28, 2018
Aug 28, 2018 at 9:43 AM UTC
I told her,"Cross your legs tightly, and start rocking back and forth. Be patient, it might take some time. Just, let it build up. Don't uncross'em and it will feel awesome. You should know yourself, what works best; rolling or rocking. Don't think about it, just relax. Use your muscles, the one(s) between your legs. Read in between the lines of everything thing I just said, then repeat it in your head, word-by-word, sign language on your lips. Your heart skips. Speeding up your heart's beat, note-to-self all over your sheets. Pace yourself, you can't cheat. First come, first serve; you can't beat. Just, listen to my voice, follow my lead. Take your time, no rush. Relax, match your breathing with mine. slow, down, take your time. Find your fingertip, with your tip, and grind. Pause, fast, forward, left, right; rewind. Now, do all if that, one more time. But first, lick your fingertip, so your ******** rise and shine, glitterish. Your index, just slide, inside you appendix, cause I penned it. Now, move your hips, like you are enjoying the ride. Here's a tip; curl your fingertip, like my tongue licked your upper lip; the thought alone should make you flip - ******* colored wet, that's my favorite. Just use your imagination; then go for it! If I was there, I would, make you, "Knock on Wood." Now do what Simon says, and you should be all good." Then she just hung up the phone. So, I guess she was good.
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 3:44 AM UTC
Baby you looked surprised, I wasn’t telling you lies. I can touch the back. I got one thing on my mind, shivers up and down your spine, you quiver. Me on top of you, turn things around, you looking back. Coming one after another, from different points of view, imagine that. Read between the lines, and found you; sitting on my lap. kept crossing my mind, uncross your legs, red your lips; love doing that. Spread your legs, relax your hips, and lean back. I take a sip, a little lick, then a kiss - now that's that. I grind your hips, you like that? My tongue, flicks your tip, you like this; you bite your lip, your waist lifts. Your pleasure. My bliss.
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 2:48 AM UTC
Be patient, it might take some time. Just, let it build up. Don't uncross’em it will feel awesome. You should know yourself, what works best, rolling or rocking? Don't think about it, just relax. Use some muscle, the one between your legs. Hussle; ruffle and tussle, it’s like trying to make a puzzle fit; sometimes you gotta wiggle it a bit, a little bit.What’s wrong, you looked puzzled? You red, so into it. lights out; so intimate. Now try feeling between the lines, you have to focus a bit. Forget what you read; and what's been said; you won’t go blind, it’s all in your head. The only time you should lose site, is when you re-sight this vision in your head; closed eyes, on your loveseat, sofa or bed. Just repeat it in your head, like Simon said. **** around and hit the right button, you might wet the bed. My sign language tracing over your lips, repeating what I said. First come, first serve; you can't be beat. Just, listen to my voice, follow my lead. See, you don’t need to see men, to succeed, you got me.So. take your time, no rush. Relax, match your breathing with mine. slow, down, take your time.Touch your fingertip, to your little tip, and grind- press down harder, yeah, that is it.. Pause, fast, forward, left, right; rewind. Now, do all if that, one more time. But first, lick your fingertip, so your ******** rise and shine, glitterish. Your index, just slide, inside you appendix, cause I penned it; very specific. Here's another tip; curl your fingers, like a tongue would flick your upper lip - the thought alone should make you flip. Now your ******* soaking wet, that's my favorite. Just use your imagination; then go for it! Your heart will skip. Pace yourself, you can't cheat. Sped up your hearts rate, to your beat. You might have left a note to yourself, but I’m the one that wrote it all over your sheets!
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 12:37 PM UTC
Every day.
The everyday.
You see it every day.
The twitch and reel and marble movement
As turgid blood surfaces to face,
Flows to operate stiff shoulders.
Backs hunch as soon as they're alone.
And they are alone.
Surrounded by lovers that
Love in word only.
They chew their nails and cross their ankles.
Uncross.
And look around.
Spring. Could you imagine?
Gear, wire. Did he say?
Bolt, frame. Isn't he?
Ratchet. And then what did he say?
Screws.
Rotor.
A bunch of ****
Oil.
Oil.
Oil. Oil. Oil.
Plug in.
Silence.
It moves.
We move a head in times of
Strain. To signify
Exact measures.
Twist on axis
With perfect posture.
Unnoticed frameworks bar our days.
We are brass.
The more crass are silver, gold.
And the days are polish. Or maybe sand.
Soon there are no mistakes.
The veneer cakes without flaw.
We do not acknowledge.
We are not caught.
For little hours though, there are kinks.
Pauses.
Errors.
Open the clockwork face.
What is stuck?
A look around.
The gears that grind us to cognition
Are jammed by a fly-body
Of soul.
Soon, soon, sooner than ever
It will be crushed.
So gears might continue,
Might make room for the everyday.
Feb 13, 2010
Feb 13, 2010 at 2:57 PM UTC
I first noticed my abnormal heartbeat
in Duluth, Minnesota.
Standing across the canal from you
separated by water
and the waves waves waves.
I still swear to this day
that it was your breath I heard
mingling with the hush of water.
The next time I notice my heart
we’re at the hospital.
You tell me to uncross my ankles
and hold out my wrist
your thumb brushing over the more delicate part of its skin
and your stethoscope cold on my throat.
It’s only a
one-two-three
four
before you’re pulling away
my pulse going with you.
I don’t care if I have to live with arrhythmia
live with the pills and the appointments
and the lack of a steady thump thump thump
in my chest.
Just the ghost of the feel
of your thumb on my pulse point
on my wrist
on my neck
curving behind my ear
and my hand on your heart
with your thump thump thump,
will keep my blood flowing.
I’m a girl with a broken heart
and I’m in love with a cardiologist.
Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 1:39 AM UTC
our shoulders would rest
side by side –
nowhere to slide away,
just room to close in
and share body heat.
our arms would overlap
then uncross;
our feet and heads
would beat and bob
to a rhythm we’d share.
our fingers would jump –
they would poke
and would provoke;
grow closer
and intertwine.
we would share moments –
magical ones –
if only I had learned
this language of music
flowing through circles and lines
of black and white.
Dec 27, 2012
Dec 27, 2012 at 1:30 AM UTC
The day will come that you find yourself stepping in that big unavoidable pile of **** that is completely made of the huge mess that you yourself have made.
I know when you finally do that it will haunt your dark black soul forever.
So keep flushing your meds down the toilet I guess you're right,
you don't need them.
You are someone who can't
possibly be saved,
because you don't want to be saved.
You can't turn back the hands of time,
or take back the hands in which you laid upon me to harm and cause me pain.
It's far too late.
You can't uncross the ultimate line in which you crossed with me.
Point those filthy fingers of yours towards the mirror right back at your own reflection when you're searching for someone
to blame, you've chosen your own
twisted fate.
I'll never be your's again baby girl.
Not to wrap your arms around to hold,
not to catch you all the times you fall,
not to talk you off the ledge that you so dangerously dance with death upon.
I will never again be any part of your ****** up world.
My shoulder will never again be the shoulder that bears all of your fallen
salty bitter tears.
Listening to all of your depicted fears and each and every one of your own self made problems will never again be either of my ears.
I do hope that there is some sort of help you one day find.
I just won't be the one who's there for you when everyone else leaves you behind.
I do hope that you find a way to keep your head above the waves and remain afloat.
I just won't be the one who jumps in to save you when your drowning and
pull you up onto my life boat.
I really do hope that one of the many days you are feeling helpless that you somehow find the strength to not resort to picking up a razor, pressing it against your skin and making yourself bleed.
Because seriously I'm sorry but,
I won't be the one who's there to
interfere or to bandage up your self inflicted wounds.
Because I won't be there ever again,
so not even in your time of need.
I so badly do hope that you one day find the type of love that you need to find
within yourself.
I just won't be there to love you anymore myself.
Nov 29, 2018
Nov 29, 2018 at 1:15 AM UTC
you have to face it:
you are getting tired of your boyfriend
especially when he sings along to the radio
your smile is cut open,
you are daydreaming through the midwest
your friend looking a little too hard
you touch your boyfriend’s jeans
just slightly.
her mouth is cut open,
and you can feel her red hair
spreading through you like a fever
you were always tired of her boyfriend
and you are already tired of los angeles
and you are only in texas.
you’ve been here for three days
and the earth shakes with *******
and gold bikinis. you sip a harvey wallbanger
and watch people **** in the fountain
and you resent your boyfriend
you cross your legs. you study the greek myths,
holding a cigarette.
her name is roxanne
and her mouth is a vase
of red flowers standing in the kitchen
of your connecticut home
when you are thirteen and
everyone is still alive
she is wearing black
and so are you.
you’ve never been ****** before.
the sun pushes through swelling flowers
towards the bar. you can’t stop blinking
when he leans into you, you giggle
like a mouse in a minidress
and uncross your legs, slowly
like you learned about in the magazines.
you’re wondering how much coke
one person can do in one night
(a lot)
but it’s not you, and the red fills the room
and you have benzodiazepine in your pocket
and you think about the word “calamity”
calm, or not?
what is the music industry?
you have started to sleep face down
and you keep the flowers close at night
and in the morning.
you’ve been kissing the sun
with your mouth open
so your boyfriend does a stage dive on national television
from 30 ft up
and the red fills the room.
when you are invited to his house
you want to say no
but instead you dress in silks
and take peyote, or LSD
roxanne drifts, laureled, around the ceilings
the host is drooling mad words
all over the candles. they’re not going out
and neither are you.
do you deserve half a million dollars,
or are you just telling yourself that?
roxanne doesn’t feel the gun in her mouth
until it’s going off
and she can see you outside on the beach
building your dream house out of sand-
but only for a second.
obviously, you didn’t think
you’d ever love your boyfriend again
but he relearned to walk
and you think it’s admirable
and strong, and brave
you’re the only one that los angeles didn’t swallow
by this time, the sun is going out
the blood around her mouth like a vase
of flowers on the kitchen table
give it a minute, you’ll be gone too.
Apr 7, 2013
Apr 7, 2013 at 8:32 PM UTC
Gild the marble as divine as ice,
Day's eye sinking below the horizon line,
Red dust drift among torrential specks,
Echoes boom from the valley pine.
Lay upon the crisp sunny hay,
Clean the grime from the sapphire quay,
Immerse 'tween the twilight breeze,
Asps should **** off, leave me in peace.
As synchrony reach cacophony,
Our destinies uncross, tis uncanny.
If true, a key unlocks powers of lore,
Against, the key forfeits my very soul.
Capture my seat of soft emotions,
Crush it against your decrepit merits weigh,
Scheme within your empty jeweled mansions,
Burn to ashes my undead void lest it decay.
All such entities loving their tragedies,
Ridiculous melodramatic melodies.
Slouch and wallow as monuments,
Imaginary quagmire of queer torments.
Swing the fury of Krato's strike,
Kneel in dust of ancient plights,
Hold thy loved ones above the light,
Spy the ragged truth outside insight.
Flood the starry gates: drown my pain,
From colossi reduced to ******** straits,
My mask cares less lest I am unpaid,
Friendship once did the beloved slay.
Tears trembles upon my eye.
Good-bye time, friend of mine.
Oct 8, 2010
Oct 8, 2010 at 6:26 PM UTC
I.
You walk through these streets
like you think you know what you want.
But tell me honestly,
inside the pockets of your coat
your fingers never uncross,
do they?
II.
I drown you in photographic film
and sometimes I wonder how time
stands still in a painting.
In the middle of the bazaar, you stood
like a painting
while people moved around you
like an overexposed reel of film
and time still stands still to this day
III.
You're coughing it all out; winter
on your lips and spring in your lungs.
Drink me.
I am a tincture of a daydream.
The sun is always brighter, my dear.
IV.
Our hands interlace in the darkness
and melt away with the consequences of time.
You are a bottle of something precious.
Put me to sleep, sing
me to sleep.
V.
Undo the buttons of your dress
and wear away with the night.
Shed this old layer of skin
and something about rebirth
we can tell beautiful lies
but how long before the bread soaks up the milk
and the blood on the carpet
seeps into
the wood.
VI.
The ice on the lake
can't hold up this dream anymore.
You're a hallucination
and all I needed.
Mar 2, 2018
Mar 2, 2018 at 1:36 AM UTC
an open book on your lap,
hair a black jumble as you cross your legs.
i can hear the skin sliding over skin and the pursing of your lips,
like the sea chumming it up with the salt or some ships.
and of your tongue like a red oval sun
fighting against mine in the dark,
i lilt and drown in the dime of flesh above the ankle strap of your left shoe.
you uncross your legs and look at me, then dip your head toward the ground,
draw your hair out with your fingers, past your face, and let it fall
between your thighs.
skin brown as sand and as hot inside the living room,
beneath seventy watt bulb and lampshade.
you sit up, one mile into my mouth,
and cross your legs again, begin,
*“do you like the way that sounds, joshua?"
when my thighs brush against one another?”*
the moon gets caught
somewhere in a net as birds shut up
and cats uncurl.
unbuckle an ankle strap,
slip one foot barely out of your shoe. *“listen to that,
joshua, you can hear my foot
arching, my legs smearing into one another.”* sand glistens
with sweat
and trembles. uncross legs and gather your hair behind your neck,
slip off your other shoe and claim that you are “naked”.
i believe you
and blame my imagination on the book covered in the folds
of your dress.
***for my shortie
Mar 30, 2013
Mar 30, 2013 at 9:02 PM UTC
Your embrace, like being pressed against a
fridge door
Painful, but I couldn't rub the pain
in public, but endure it as I walked away
through the silent quad
Your goofy smile as I gave you
your birthday present last year
when there was that heat
And when I touched your heart like your mother once did
and you tried to hide, but couldn't resist
You are coming
Looming large
Coming yes, with your newest girlfriend
They come and go and come again, swirling around you
backs arched, hands splaying as they reveal their inner thoughts to your
rapt attention, cross their legs, uncross them, flip their estrogen hair,
your little subordinate girlfriends
What pleasures you could have if only...
You come to judge me, with your eyes and hers.
Your eyes I used to watch, but now you avert most times
You must maintain your detachment and judge me and
converse about me with her, as you "mentor" her
Meld with her. It must be a palpable connection between your center
and hers. Teach her how to think like you, feel you, be a part of you
Let her accept you into her
And me, up there, trying to impress both of you
to keep my job
to save my apartment, my unpaid bills, my cats
my dented car, my anti-depressant pills, my life sans
trifles, but deep and thoroughly lived
I am a slave dancer, unclothed and unprotected, but skilled and
nothing can take that away from me, not even you
As you will not look at me, only at your little electronic pad and at her,
As she sees me perform for the first time
and she won't have any idea that I was once in her place
and you were not detached
And I can only hope, that through it all, my skill
will prevail
And you, now detached little man
That I mourn, will keep me at my job
And sad as I will be to watch you watch me
and feel the energy between you both, as I
an experimental animal under a scientists eye
As I am there, and she is next to you
I still hope you stay detached and
let me keep my job and
I will be free forever.
Oct 14, 2012
Oct 14, 2012 at 10:17 PM UTC
she falls
she rolls
she falls again
fragile forgive
exposed honest
forward slowly
raw
is her skin
paper in this damp salty air
take her with you
when you find her there
warm her
in your hearts fire
warm her
slowly
your gentle wind
will ignite her
resting volcano
she has come apart so many times now
her pieces lay where they may
pain
and
beauty
they are the same now
she is neither
fool
or
wise
woman
or
wildfire
sweet sweet slow learner
uncross your legs
untie
the knots of usury
take hold of the ground beneath you
she is you
she is me
she lives in the smallest of places
she is wild in excess
a fractured heart will blossom within her walls
colourful
vulnerable
willing
learning
slowly
slowly
slowly...
Mar 9, 2020
Mar 9, 2020 at 12:32 PM UTC
once you dig the razor in too deep
you know youve crossed a line
in more ways than one
physically;
youve cut deeper than
you ever have before
and then
mentally;
you cannot go back now
May 12, 2025
May 12, 2025 at 9:18 AM UTC
forgive and forget, they've all
told me to do.
forgiving I've done, but
I can’t forget you.
uncross the swords, I’ll step
to the side
my fingers are crossed, are
yours crossed, same as mine?
May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 10:28 PM UTC
Your lover left you
yesterday,
You noticed a hair
that is gray,
you gained five pounds
this holiday,
it seems that nothing
goes your way.
The sun will rise
and set each day,
The moon gives light
to lead your way,
flowers bloom to
brighten your day,
how can you say
things aren't your way?
Beauty is truly
everywhere,
uncross your arms
and leave your chair,
open your eyes,
become aware,
this is your day;
life's not unfair.
Jan 28, 2011
Jan 28, 2011 at 5:26 PM UTC
i need another hole in my head,
something to let the sun in
and the evil out.
A set of beige drapes like
a wet napkin over a bowl of oatmeal.
Size: 4 by 2, color: beige, hardware:
not included.
Just big enough for a three-year-old
to reach his (her?) grubby fingers
in, uncross my wire, accessorize my
space, evaluate my feng shui.
Oh my god, is that a hole in your head?
--one of several...--
Just an access panel, really.
i am a talented surgeon,
as seen on T.V., spreading
hope and renewal...
BEHOLD! *i have faced death
and returned to you a shaman!
Hear my words, heed my words,
i i i, cast down amongst you,
beseech you:* RISE UP!
*Rejoice and tremble,
look upon the beauty that is,
despair no more in the
illusions that were past,
face illusions to come,
as real as we make them.*
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 4:27 PM UTC
Cross your arms in front and grip
Peel away from your own skin
your 100% cotton exoskeleton
Raise it up, up, up
Let it envelop your head like a cocoon
Up, up, up
Until you are naked again
Feel the breeze
Shiver
Walk over to the basket
See how many you's you have been
(they served you then)
Walk over to the dresser
Crawl into a new beginning
Uncross your arms and relax
Sep 18, 2020
Sep 18, 2020 at 12:45 PM UTC
They say sometimes falling feels like flying.
And every time I catch you eyeing me I wonder how it would have felt to fall with you.
To stand there hand in hand at the bottom taking in the view up above.
What if we had?
Could we have called it love the words we shared and the nights your breath entangled itself in my hair?
Would our secrets have surrendered and made themselves into promises?
Would we exhale the inhales that we had been holding onto and uncross the fingers behind our backs?
If we had fallen would you have looked down or trusted that the ground wouldn’t break our bones?
Would you have let the wind allow you to soar?
Or would you have searched on your own for something more than the tiny echo of a dream we had?
If we’d fallen would you have listened to the way our hearts were able to sing?
Yours the melody, mine the harmony; together they’d bleed so easily.
Or would the shouts from below drown out our song?
Would you have listened if the said we would never last long?
Or would you hear the voice of reason saying we could build a foundation to hold up the clouds and make a river to keep the stars set in stone?
I can’t help but wonder which you would believe in and where we would be if we’d known that love doesn’t happen on it’s own.
Maybe we would have fallen slowly and landed surely.
We wouldn’t have clung so tightly to the edge and wasted so much time worrying about the end.
If only someone had told us that falling could send us flying maybe we would have found letting go something worth trying.
So sometimes I close my eyes and see us cannonballing side by side to the ground realizing that happiness was never up, it was down.
But I never get farther than that because with eyes wide open I know that love is all about timing.
And even though we were almost there our words were just words and your breath found its way out of my hair.
We were too late.
No matter how hard we fought, time doesn’t wait for love to make up its mind.
So instead of falling we fell behind.
And I’m stuck here wondering what we missed every time I look into your eyes.
Oct 6, 2013
Oct 6, 2013 at 11:18 PM UTC
Uncross your arms. So I
May access your heart.
Smile, so our kisses fit.
I fell in love with you laughing,
Now look for things to laugh
About; there are plenty.
Save your tears for the hard, solid
Tragedies. I'll cry with you. Then.
I earn your trust just by
Breathing; so honest is my
Loving you. Uncross your arms.
Return my embrace.
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 6:39 AM UTC
Reverse the growth of my upbringing roots
Start back to before the coming of one’s brutes
Let me put my clock's time backwards
I want to not have to take any more steps forwards
Fall we shall into a recurring pit
Mistakes allowed to have never been hit
Please grant permission to uncross the strings of time
Now all will be about to make a new outcome in their prime
Dec 25, 2018
Dec 25, 2018 at 7:29 PM UTC
The least you could do, is uncross your heart. Unhope to die.
Feb 3, 2021
Feb 3, 2021 at 12:43 PM UTC
my hospital band keeps sticking to my arm
and i can't uncross my legs
she stuck the needle in the arm and missed
gave it a kiss, tried again as the arm bled red
perhaps it may look wrong;
the spots on the arm or the grin on the face
both similarly misplaced causing confusion
to their reader- context clues please read closely
or you may not pass the final exam
Sep 20, 2016
Sep 20, 2016 at 5:19 AM UTC