Your lips belong to the skin between my legs,
where your name is etched in lace
and your hands have room to play.
LR

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@lilireinhart
Your lips belong to the skin between my legs,
where your name is etched in lace
and your hands have room to play.
LR
It’s a beautiful thing
to remember that you’re
silently watching over me.
You are the sky as it starts to set,
and the stream of light that lands on my cheek.
For Luke.
Use my chest to rest your head
And I swear I’ll never move again.
I give too much of myself to those people.
The last people on earth who deserve it.
And I feel regret.
For letting them spark a reaction out of me. When I know all too well that the moment will pass.
I’m still me.
They’re still them.
Judging my pictures and words, without actually seeing anything or knowing any part of me.
The sticky spiderweb that they create seems to trap me every time.
But I seem to be the one biting myself in the end.
And I’m worth too much to cheapen myself by acknowledging that their web even exists.
They will never know me. They will never see me as raw or bare as they see themselves.
And that’s what keeps me sane.
That I, myself, am tucked away. Where none of them can reach me.
Each year brings new lessons.
This is one of mine.
Value yourself. And the parts of yourself that are your own.
That no one else can touch.
you are the treasure I have earned after multiple lifetimes of good behavior.
LR
by Damon Baker.
As an actor... some of the worst words you will ever hear are “just pace it up a little bit.”
*sigh*
No room for breath in network television, I suppose.
His voice is the only music I need to hear.
RIP
I had a bunch of poems saved on my phone in my notes that I had planned on posting gradually over time.
Sadly those notes were deleted when my phone was hacked.
So alas, my poems are gone.
But I’ll conjure up more soon and I love sharing them with you all ❤️
I’m back.
I’m so sorry for the offensive posts that the hacker made on my account. Everything is handled. Thank you x
It’s been a while since I’ve had a moment to miss you.
And to cry.
This warm, summer breeze on my balcony makes me think of Cape Cod.
And your floral swimsuits.
And how you never wore sunscreen but always told us we had to.
Even in this loud city, these quiet moments exist where your spirit is present.
And I feel like you’re sitting next to me on the beach again.
So I’ll wait until the sun goes down before I go back inside.
For now, we can sit together and hear the ocean.
No, I’m not cold.
I always get goosebumps when you kiss my neck.
Find someone who inspires the poet inside of you.
That is how I know I love you so much.
Whenever I see something beautiful, I want you to see it too.
I seem to be your new favorite novel.
One that keeps you up at night... to continue turning my pages.
Fingers lingering on me so you don’t lose your place.