Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
I dream of your lips pressed against mine.With your hands exploring my body while you press me up against a wall.

I imagine you leaving me with hickeys, scratches and bite marks.
                                                          ­      
I think of cloths scattered on the floor and of you pressing me to you so there is no space between us.

I don't want flowers, chocolates and love.
                                                           ­     
I want lip biting, messy sheets and lust.
I want pure unadulterated passion
Everything I do with you is a blur when it's over but when we're together everything feels great.

Your smell is stuck in my nose and your image is burned into my eyes.

I remember wanting to hold your hand but not how many times I cowarded away from the idea.

I remember how many times I thought about kissing your face but I don't remember a time when I have.

These moments of clarity and these moments of fog are everything I thought they would be and maybe even a little more.

I'm not sure what we are but I like it. I like that what we are isn't a label but a feeling.

But most of all, I like you.
The world where I stood was a desert
thirsty for a pint of rain;
longing for a kiss that never came.
Not until you did.

Everything started with a droplet of your essence,
Out of nowhere. Unexpected.
YOU... yes you MANIFESTED.
Without notice, you took me by surprise.
A beautiful surprise I say.
For the first time in a while I felt,
my worries washed away by your presence.
Hot sand turned mud where then I lay.

In those moments I lost,
all anxieties brought by drought.
When through the years I thought
I'd never touch the rain I ought
to ardently pray for every night.
Imbued I was with your* "love".

clothes soaked. body wet. soul drunk.

your name the promise I mutter through the drizzle.
This body jived to the beat of a million sizzle.

Moments passed faster than it seemed.
I, taken away by lust of a parched soul.


I slurped. I gulped. I glugged.

as much as I could, never thinking of
what I would drink in the latter.
When the land runs dry;
when then again,
I'm deprived of water.

So then, what caught me by surprise,
left without a word... woah,
SURPRISE!
everything turned back the way it was;
an arid heart in a blink of an eye.

But what makes me wonder is this delusive sense,
of your cooling touch amidst this false pretense;


I smell–
Your scent stick to my chest like perfume odour.
My nostrils clogged with the aroma of your neck.
A waft that distorts the senses of this
consumed man.

Thoughts of you linger long after you are gone...
*Like the fragrance of rain that stays after the downpour.
A poem
for her.
or maybe
for myself.

#MovedOn
You hear the buzz.
Your body is tense.
The needle goes in.
The ink flows.

You begin to relax.
Your mind wonders.
Black and grays.
Traditional.  Oriental.

It's mesmerizes your soul.
You are lost in the moment.
Minutes turn to hours.
It's all done.

It is there.
On your body.
For the world to see.
Permanent ink.
I am in the parlor at this moment getting inked.
Today a flower unfurls in a distant place,
its fragrance a sweet smelling savor,
its delicate frame echoing lost beauty,
it whispers a name that can never be forgotten.
A few words in remembrance of a dear , sweet absent friend who passed away this time last year.
Cigarettes and alibis,
purple turtles, little white lies,
see you fall on a silver screen,
a living testament of all that’s been,

caught your tears in a bottle of rye,
never ever seen a crocodile cry,
storms a brewing in an old tea cup,
stirred up the leafs, our time is up.
disintegrating relationships
Midnight laced the sky's blue moon.
The lights in the castle shone out loud.
The lady of the house be gone.
Wrapped in cloak of night sky blue.
The verdant field met late night's lights.
With nearly morning breeze.

Then there came the turbulence.
A hurricane.
Over the drawbridge.
feeling the force.
Weather beaten and worn.
The oak door screams back.
It's fighting against its hinges.
She's led into the parlour.
Taken by the hand of her faithful lord.
The lonely lord of live alone.
A silent servant sleeps downstairs,
Privately hidden in the cellar under the house.

A tray of nuts and garlic butter mushroom nibbles presented.
Delivered with a scrumptious glass of warming scarlet wine.
Any port in a storm.
He had collected them that morn,just before the break of dawn.
Oh that the darkest time of day.
The mushrooms he'd collected.
Were very very wrong.
The housemaid entered the drawing room.
Quiet as a house mouse.
She couldn't wake them up.
Didn't dare.
They were sleeping silently, within death's cold embrace.
She paid but no attention, as she stoked the angry fireplace.
(c) Livvi
Was it accidental ? The mind boggles!
I stared in the mirror, looked at my own sad reflection and
wondered,

When did I abandoned my own self?
When did I lose my grip of my mental being?
Why did I hide under the covers to get away from the monsters?

I have never looked in the closet because I was afraid of what I might find.
My fears of the unknown have always taken me for a ride. A ride, I still can not get off of.
I have tried to lock the demons away in my mind, into the abyss. They always seem to break out of their prison and crucify my soul, when I am the least capable of fighting back.

My whole life has been in total blackness inside the belly of the beast. Only when I close my eyes, do I see a small glimmer of light or hope.

Then I wake up and realize the mirror that I have been staring into the whole time was broken and shattered.

DID I BREAK IT?
What is it we see and so often despise,
when we view ourselves using only the eyes,
that distorted image inside our head,
the old snakes skin that we’d like to shed,

dare we look from behind the frame,
beyond the self-loathing, repulsion and shame,
our vesture is woven from the beauty inside,
so take on its mantel and wear it with pride.
I wrote this for anyone who struggles with accepting how they see themselves in the mirror, which is often very different to how others see us.  It sounds like a cliche but beauty really is what we are on the inside.
Next page