you shot across my sky
like a rare constellation
now yours
is the only touch i'm craving

our eyes meet
and i drown completely
each moment with you
leaves me aching so sweetly

feeling drunk off every kiss
i wonder if you know
that yours
is the only face i miss

so little time
with so much i long to do
i'd run straight into trouble
if it led me to you.

At times, I find myself yearning for you.
A craving becomes a hunger,
And a hunger,
a starvation.

Shall I pray for a cure to this sin?
The way my collar aches for your kisses-
Your breath,
Hot against my throat

The way my mind wanders to where your hands could trail-
trickling down my skin like the heaven's rain

Am I evil to believe your touch is god?

Love, If I shall pray, I pray to you.
For your hands heal my lonely flesh

And, Lord,
if this is a sin,
make me burn.

Take me to hell and back-
Set me on fire and bless me a godly insanity

For you I'll burn again and again-
hotter than the sun,
Longer than infinity

Late night,
My mouth's watering.
"Wanna taste a Drumstick,"
My taste buds are shouting.

The flavors of those juicy flesh,
My tongue's missing.
To chew those tasty crispy crust,
My teeth are waiting.

In my bed, I'm dreaming
Of chicken frying.
"I wanna filled with leg piece,"
My tummy is crying.

I am just 17,
But 85 kg, I'm weighing.
Yet to have chicken,
My mind is craving...

A singular urge is a first,
reach out and stretch to grasp what's ahead.
Craving the crest of a wave,
we're high on the day as it's made.

Each is a slave where emotions are led,
fixed with impatient aches when we age.
Hard to remember which intentions were sent,
resetting said objectives of late.

Targets in sight from the white of your eye, these short lived events curl up in death.
Less than a wisp as it fades into air,
rolling along to reclaim what we shared.

part of me wants to scream
I want to scream out to the world to get them to understand
I want to scream until there isn’t a single breath left in my lungs until they sting with the energy , I've expended and my words hang in the air for all to hear
to be a poet you must write with a certain passion
live with the satisfaction that you can constantly assemble phrases words and lines
because to truly write you must feel
you must freely write your emotion
you must learn to let go of your darkest secrets
allow the words to flow from your mind
liberate yourselves from mental slavery
they cannot comprehend why I write
I am striving for inner peace
fighting for the freedom of my soul
writing is my form of release because sometimes
poetry is not a release of emotion but an escape of emotion
moments & raw emotions
these aren't things ready made
we fear what we know but do not understand
we are loose at the seams
pretending to fine
Yet desiring to be heard
understood from the core
of our poems our souls
© Jennifer Delong  🦏 8/14/18