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Literature Text
I tried but couldn't unravel
you into an unmarked box, anonymously buried
in the peripheral spaces of a closet corner
you kept peeking up around the edges
of old coats and vacuum cleaner attachments,
slipping into the pockets of a hoodie I wore once
when it rained and the warm chill of august trickled up my spine
when I reached my hand in and found a wad of crumpled paper
with scribbled scraps of notes I wrote to one day send to you
you came flooding back in; I couldn't breathe
because the air felt empty in my lungs
and I knew, then:
this is me wanting you.
you into an unmarked box, anonymously buried
in the peripheral spaces of a closet corner
you kept peeking up around the edges
of old coats and vacuum cleaner attachments,
slipping into the pockets of a hoodie I wore once
when it rained and the warm chill of august trickled up my spine
when I reached my hand in and found a wad of crumpled paper
with scribbled scraps of notes I wrote to one day send to you
you came flooding back in; I couldn't breathe
because the air felt empty in my lungs
and I knew, then:
this is me wanting you.
Literature
consecrate
authenticity an arsenic
in morning coffee, in the smiles
pressed like ironed laundry,
because I feel like one wrong breath,
one wrong kiss between glossed lips and soft jaws
and I will be nailed to a cross
deception a shame rising like steam,
where teeth grind against each other
like clockwork gears, tick tick ticking
while the tongue kisses the roof of its cathedral
like a prayer to gods yet to be named
because her face is a mosaic window
shining the sin out of love
Literature
no room
I am so full of me
there is no room
for you in here.
You can be out
there, alongside me,
but there is no room in here.
The hotel is full.
I am the Anna Madrigal
of my own soul.
So you be you
and I will be me.
If there is connection,
I will cherish it.
If there is not,
I will not miss it.
This does not diminish
my love and devotion,
nor your own to me.
It just makes it real.
Literature
Reykjavik For Lezayre
so slip, i stumble. fumble with the
doorknob and your key falls with me
im falling into - there you are
i see you in
these ports and the sea foam shades
of the fog that parts at dawn the day
before i find myself - here you are
i want to be left alone but -
it was the taste, salty and too sweet
it was too much and my tongue
is not appeasing or the tricks
that tease -
come close. still this one last time
there’s something underneath your
skin steady i want
inside
you - to see, how i memorize you
in every gasp that splits the air around
us and when you cum - crashing
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it's all true except the details
© 2015 - 2024 nawkaman
Comments2
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Have totally felt this way before! Nicely written!