It’s more than butterflies in the pits of my belly
I may have a bat
hurling around in there.
I am MORE than in love with you.
I am the moth dancing around the fire,
scalding myself repetitively as I enjoy every flicker of flame .
It isn’t rational that you have the force of a jet plane,
taking me high enough that it feels like we might reach the moon,
with the potential to thunder to the floor,
shatter me into pieces of mercury,
separating and rushing in different directions
Until I’m torn up,
like sheets of unwanted poetry.
I don’t no who I am anymore.
You frighten me.
Your latent has me on the brink of dread,
If only I was sane enough to stay away,
Instead I’m the girl from the psychiatric ward who
doesn’t know how to take care of herself.
They say insanity is doing the same thing repeatedly
expecting a different result,
and here I am again.
I’ve been telling myself that you don’t matter,
when really you are as essential to me as breathing,
without the air you bring
I would deflate,
I hope this time you haven’t brought me back to life
Just to enjoy killing me all over again.
When we meet again I won't be disappointed.
rousing with you're arms around me
Will be flesh, and bone,
heart and soul…
setting together like jelly, a mass of solid,
waiting to be pulped,
till I am left alone
vomiting up rainbows,
Just like before,
maybe this time without the tears.
I want to get laid
I tell you this often
Its not that I'm deprived of sex
I get migraines, I feel pain
like my brain is rotting in my head, it will
become a corpse and the rest of me will live on
like some kind of android.
I've besieged myself in memories so often
its using up my thoughts
until I run out and I can't think anymore.
They slope down reddened cheeks,
splatter ignorant over yet another
I am perpetually writing.
like a thing possessed, re-wording history
like I might somehow reform my shattered heart,
Weld it back together,
so I may choose to hand it back,
It doesn't matter anymore
I'm already here…
When you tell me that you love me,
I won't believe you.
My fingers will toy frantic with buttons,
hair or anything else I can find to fidget and distract me
from the uncomfortable urge to climb inside your head.
I won't look you in the eye
because my belly is distorting into stiff knots
like every drop of blood
is being ringed out
my guts are black charcoal,
dried out with the heat.
My need for reassurance is
twitching like a diseased rabbit,
tripping over half formed words,
that I am too afraid to speak.
I had almost learned not to love you
until you took those words from my mouth
and spat them back in my face.
I keep searching you're eyes
Like I might find some blackness that will validate
my nightmares of you stamping on my stomach.
It's in my guts I feel it the most, the hellish agony of love
My heart like a water balloon
spilling graceless all over us,
I'm breathing in you're air and its killing me.
My poems dont compare to the ones ive read on here but I shouldnt be comparing. Beautiful writing on here. You guys are talented! Here are two of mine. I am going to share with you some of my slightly happier poems. I only have a handful. Most of my poems are dark and sad.
A fluttering of wings
in every drum beat.
you are blue. lips sharing
kisses with pinks and greens
and the jam-master bunnies
on their LSD beats, keep
jammin their burning man
be-bop like a blitzkrieg
of rose-petal red
and glittering gold,
Spinning in circles.
I am in love.
with the synesthesic
dance of colors, that drip
off me in teardrops.
In reds and golds
and pinks and greens
of blue kisses and
funkalicious drum-beat wings.
Once I felt like I was a part of something.
Standing among the girls and boys
with their glow-in-the-dark eyes
Filled with both youth and lust.
Breathing fire like it was oxygen
Dancing like gods and goddesses
They made everything they touched beautiful.
I knew not of their hopes or sorrows
They were not dancing for me.
Still, for once, I did not feel so alone.
There was something about the eyes.
Was it the mermaid-blue currents
that seemed to swirl inside them?
That were both peacful and terrifying.
Did he know, how dangerous they were?
Did he use them to seduce the girls with empty ones?
I know what it's like, he said I used to be like you;
lost, frightened and alone.
I didnt dare look him in the eyes then,
fearing that they were his secret weapon
Reminding myself that I am not like the other girls
I knew his secrets and I believed them.
Concern yourself less with love and more with loving.
[Poem] Soft Touches
Soft pressing at your mind.
Do you ever wonder if I'm real,
Ever think of if I'm yours?
Soft knocking at your heart.
Do you still believe in my love,
Like I believe in yours?
Soft tickles of the hand.
Do you feel my understanding,
In the stroking that I lay?
Softness stay with me.
Do the thing that come to you,
Natural or vain.
Soft moments you recall.
Do you still recall that second,
That joy the way I do?
With all my heart I will love and not fail,
With all my soul I will fly and not fall.
Wow Erosa, this is beautiful. I really like the structure of the poem, and it reads really nicely. I of course can relate to its content as well, that wondering if someone else is cherishing that moment you hold so dear, or if they will remember it later. Beautiful. thanks for sharing!
for my lady love
To my lovely,
I know her face and smile
I know her voice and laughter
But now I want to know more
To feel her body in rapture
To touch her lips with mine
Imagining they taste sweeter than wine
Thinking of touching her soft skin
Not knowing for sure where to begin
For now, thoughts run wild
As I listen to her talking sweetly
Would the passion be hot or mild?
Imagining her touch completely
Is the now the time to act?
Would that be to forward? to open?
I try to guess how she'd react To a kiss, or maybe some gropin'
I'll think on this for now And wait to see what comes
Wondering mostly of how And her cute little 'bum!
for my Master dripping with BDSM themes/thoughts so might not be to everyones liking
his eyes start a fire
his touch is the flame
when he moves closer
my body calls his name
more then his touch,
his punshment she needs
happy to give in to him
whenever he would please
on her knees before him
is her one true place
bowing to his whim to see
the smile upon his face
long it has been since he
has punished her enough
she longs to feel the pain
to feel him being rough
the spark is in his eyes
iniviting her inside
only thrills he brings her
as she kneels low at his side
to be his once again would
make her feel complete
bringing her such joy
down besdie his feet
low she sits though they
both know that she need only say
one word to let him know
it is time to stop this play
just as she knows one word
from him and it all begins
her falling to her knees
she is very disciplined
him taking all he wishes
wherever, whatever and however
she is only to please him
denying him never
her body longs to feel him
marking her as his alone
bending her, breaking her
taking her for his very own
to him she will submit
his every whim she does fill
happy to please him however
at mercy to his very will
to her it brings only pleasure
no matter the marks he makes
bringing her such orgasmic bliss
willingly givign all he takes
time after time, she takes her place
ready to be everything he desires
trying to meet each request and demand
wanting to be the one he requires
bowing down low before him
is where she spends her time
loving every second with him
for her it is purely sublime
Bet you can guess where I wrote this one. Love that there are writers here. I dig that stuff! This might give my identity away to one on the boards but it's cool, he knows who I am.
Tell the Captain, We're Going Down May 4th, 2009
The rain had eeked it's way through the cracks of the ceiling
on the 5:18 MTA bus.
A drop of rain performed a half-gainer onto my forehead.
A wake up call sent to me by the weather spirit.
It reminded me of those anti-drug commercials from the 90's;
"This is your brain on drugs"
Except the reverberating chorus echoing through my skull
and through the dreary bus
as the sky sobbed the remainder of winter
down the rounded roof, through the insulation
along the ridges of the ceiling,
falling at a water torturers rhythm
first to the crown of my head,
then in slow motion, as I stared cross-eyed
at where I though the source of my discomfort was erupting..
"This is your brain on denial"
I looked at the four young mothers holding small children,
having just exited the rain,
the recovering drunk, who hasn't actually recovered,
who slams a pint of spirits every night to "sleep."
I saw them smiling and cooing at the babies.
But, the worried distant gaze that peered through the children in their parents arms, told a different story.
It was as if the sky was falling
the weight of today's flying pig flu and looming economic collapse
onto this dreary road ship
that had just sprung a leak.
"You can't make a giant just by stretching out a dwarf. One person's beauty mark is another person's wart."