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How can I unmake indignant hands,
rolled, into fists?
If I kiss the fingers, will they unfold,
like celestial doors,
and beckon me in?
If I traverse your lifeline,
with softened eyes, and lips,
will we time skip,
Into a time, and place,
that's better, than this?

Even in thunder,
you dwell
at the center, of me.

I wonder,
would you melt...
with my hand, on your cheek.
My body screams your name,
with the big letter J.

Longing,
burning
for a taste of love
between two people,
who have found a home
in each other’s tongues.
I don’t speak lies
don’t exaggerate
__, when I say
I like your size
Yes! You feel great
Come on! I wanna play
Pressing deep inside
you satiate
Hold me close & stay
Always true
I miss you
Fill me with Someday

How could I resist
You’re the entire list!
I crave everything about you
Delicious torment.
Satisfying as a scab.
Patient, violent, and kind.
The masochists' wine.

Fruition fermented.
Succulent, seductive.
A painful map of desire.
Terrifying and everlasting.
Your ghost sits well over my frame.
My visage as honest.

Comfortable and compatible.
Our cracked hearts sprout
A flowering display
Of fingers laced around sleep.
She's a Wild Woman,
She is out in this world,
that is so full of Darkness, but
was once a young girl,

This World has manipulated, and
has taken away her youth,
It has shielded her eyes with lies,
instead of telling her the full truth,

A young little girl,
brought up in a world of hate,
Who was told so many false dreams,
At this point, for her, it's too late

There's a little girl out there today,
who was given false hopes, and desires,
Was told that she would never make it,
Only needing someone to Inspire.

If only someone would encourage her, and
Let her know that it would be Okay,
There are people out there who could help her,
Llift her up, and continue to Pray.


B.R.
Date: 8/24/2025
Tell me, what fuels your fire?
My passion, my desire,
my ******* fantasy,
is to be your fuel
to fan your flame
to know your molten core
melts

explode for me
though buried by the deep blue sea
mountain of my dreams & memories
rise, erupt
by my heat

Let me fuel your secret fantasy
Burn blue and white for me
On moon-damp sheets, you slowly open my violet fig, passing halves tongue to tongue,
its seed-pearls, captive minutes embraced by our soft lips,
each velvet pulse a swallowed clock tick, unthreading the night’s camisole—unstrung

Our minutes take root inside our souls, night’s vines in green hour’s gentle grip,
soft pods burst open, figs too ripe to cradle our desires,
their wet seeds, exploring, ticking onward—dreaming of a solar eclipse

Dawn’s pallid hand already tests the window, sprouting its cruel thorns and briars,
we stack our stolen seconds like leaves against the latch, a barricade of lost cries,
yet every green minute bleeds to gold, slipping through fingers, we tire—

Seconds steep in our bellies like sour home-brewed wine highs,
bubbles of yesterday escape—tiny pale moons clinging to folds and hips,
drunk on recycled time, we speak only in overlapping echoes of whys?

One corner of the mattress folds like a calendar page—blank, stripped,
our shadows lengthen backward, seeking last night’s candlelight,
Dawn’s fiery glow becomes a vortex of memory and lust—we slip, hip to hip

A seed-shaped cog spills within; its milk is bitter sun, not honeyed night,
the soft ticking falters—our wetness rusts the teeth of fragile gears,
we press our palms to the fracture, bluffing the hunger of day’s appetite.

All swallowed instants germinate in rapture; green shoots flare wild from every tear,
morning slips through the leaf-lattice, feral, unstoppable—death,
the room sighs oxygen unearned; we wake leaf-littered, dewed, a frontier unclear

One last seed, caged behind the sternum, ticks backwards, waiting for breath,
it counts in reverse, each tick a small fist begging still to be loved,
we do not let it out; we cradle the echo, its name?
—A Terza-Rima Nocturne of Swallowed Time
Sin
Trading glances like thiefs in paradise lost

Taste of a teenage dream lingering on my tongue

Your retreat, traitor blood

Throwing stones on my window

Perishing into the edge of town

Roses grow in our loss
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