Viv

Wow. Words.

[romanticbutnot]

Intimacy

I crave the quiet moments;

summer sunshine on a lazy morning,

sweet black coffee in the midst of madness,

and your hands in my hair, running from the sadness.

I crave the subtle glances;

the knowing smiles and inside jokes,

the midnight selfies and mirrored mannerisms,

and the fleeting fumbles from narrowly avoided cataclysms.

I crave the minor touches;

hands sweeping together and passing on static,

hips swaying at parties to 00′s songs made for lovers,

with a bottle in one hand and your memory in the back of the other.

[romanticbutnot]

I can’t help but stare at your lips when you speak

I can’t help but stare at your lips when you speak.

The patterns and shapes paint words in my head,

Like lyrics to the sweetest melody,

The harmonies of your voice playing smooth symphonies.

It’s like you know your soul is like Mozart’s or Shakespeare's.

When you speak in prose,

Tuning your voice to the sharps and minors and crests,

Sending me magic in code.

It’s a strange kind of magic, masked in your mutters.

Spells I don’t understand hiding in the shadows

Of your addictive laugh,

Lingering beyond the echo of your smile.

It’s terrifying like a witches cackle or a demons roar,

The power you have over me,

You don’t even know you hold the key to seven kingdoms in your hand,

You think it’s just a guidebook to the deadly sins.

But loving you would not be treason,

All chapters come to a finite end,

But your starlit smile is infinite,

And I’d chose your sourest sounds in place of the sweetest sonnets.

[romanticbutnot]

I’ll meet you where

I’ll meet you where the earth kisses the sea.

Making out in perfect harmony.

Like a good old fashioned couplet rhyme.

They’ve seemed to stand the test of time.

The waves caress her cheek;

And the sand tickles his fingertips.

And he tries to pull her under, show earth what she’s missing.

But she stands her ground.

Hidden treasures masked below his facade, 

He’ll protect her from the monsters,

He’ll give her his treasures,

He’ll keep her hidden and safe from the cold world outside.

But her mummy told her the water gets cold in summer.

Never dip your feet below the surface.

The tropics and gulfs are always changing,

Disorientating.

The earth still kisses the sea.

They meet in blissfully cruel honesty.

With quick short touches at the shore,

Where she tells him it’ll never be anything more.

But he says she teases him,

Gives of the wrong impression-he can see her vibe,

She’s throwing those pebbles into the water like stolen glances,

And she lets his streams flow over her.

But that’s the way it’s always been, 

They’ve sustained each other,

Communicated.

Split the universe 50/50 -to ensure equality.

The Earth still kisses the sea,

Although something doesn’t feel quite right.

His lips aren’t sweet and friendly,

But taste like vile, salted wine.

His touches don’t feel warm and soft,

They leave her shaking and struggling from the cold.

His currents and majestic moves have all played out before,

But now they’re less impressive and more intimidating.

The Earth doesn’t know why she’s kissing the sea.

He’s corroding her landmass and disrespecting her immunity.

Stripping her boundaries in displays of ownership,

Counting her creatures as if he’s building a ship.

He promises it’ll just be the two of them

Like it’s always been,

But she’s less naive than she was before,

And the Earth hasn’t let water slip into her core.

The Earth still kisses the sea,

Though her touch inflames him and sends him spiralling.

Evaporating away.

Changing state.

So I’ll meet you where the Earth kisses the sea

And they respect each others privacy.

And their kisses mean more than just taking up time.

And his streams and puddles don’t mark what’s mine. 

[romanticbutnot]

Sounds like a song

I could write you better words,

Or bring you breakfast to bed;

I could hold you close at midnight,

And be the whisper in your head.

I could preach you,

Praise your body;

Kiss your soul and touch your heart,

And sip you with morning coffee.

[romanticbutnot]

Smores

I’m sat on my bed

Eating Nutella straight from the jar,

Fueling my need with heavenly poison.

Melting into the marshmallow duvets

Roasting on a fire until they flow like a gooey cloud,

Of white dreams crystalined in sweet confections.

Blanketed by biscuits

The distinct crunch of the hardback book I was reading; as its crunched into crumbs in my fingertips,

With the distinct snap.

Weak; sweet; fragile; and completely imaginary.

[teacup13-deactivated20200319]

he reads smiles to the stars

like the paint dripping from

his ribs has time to dry before

my name is pulled from this

story, like we’ve held hands

with the ache of the ocean

sanding sound from a pointed

breeze, writing is my home, but

you’re all of my words, darling,

your love is everything I never

wanted

[lebuc]

bed we made

* the bed we made has within it a pea embedded one mattress down, disrupting our sleep for months, now * seems we can’t find nor were we aware of it until we attempted to unearth the recent source of  our extreme fatigue

* bedbugs haven’t proven as insidious nor impervious to detection & all good intentions to rid ourselves of this irritant-in-chief, er - green-shelled sycophant from our midst * drained of pleasant dreams & restful sleep, we lurch from event to event, despairing - desperate for a dream, some respite & hope for a change… * while we mull, er - wonder if & when we’ll find some measure of relief from this malady. * 6/1 - lebuc - bed we made

[romanticbutnot]

Reckless Abandonment

I’ve never felt the kiss of pain

It’s gentle caress

Burned onto my beating heart.

I’ve never yearned for the golden touch

It’s gentle attack

Payed for my sins in mountains of gold.

I’ve never hurt for a broken heart

It’s gentle asphyxiation

Took my breath and love and soul.

I’ve never longed for a pleated dream

It’s gentle lull

Stole my presence into its mythical mist.

I’ve never flown too close to the sun

It’s gentle warmth

It’s guiding light

Never scorched my flesh with moral words

But now I find myself lost

In reckless abandonment

Too close for comfort

To you.

[romanticbutnot]

Candles

There’s a glimmer in those eyes

A faint grace of glitter in those glass orbs

A promising sparkle from the firecracker of youth

Burning out like a broken fuse and working through the gasoline

Until it’s just an old blackened match

That glimmer put out

Waiting to be lit again.

[romanticbutnot]

Lipstick

She paints her lips a cherry red,

A powerful shade

A deep red blush

A bruised blood orange.

She fills the outlined lines,

Like a connect the dots book.

A simple task

Carried out with precision and stealth.

She dries her lipstick- aging it like a fine wine,

The blood red warpaint,

The scarlet scar

That catches my attention from afar.

I touch her lips before we kiss,

My poppy coloured nails

On her pomegranate lips,

And the clear taste of rosé fills us with bliss.

Black magic is the devils work,

But when I taste the passion in the hue of her lipstick,

I know true power comes from

The magic that lines her cherry red lips.

[romanticbutnot]

Hills

I watched a movie today about soldiers of the Armia Krajowa surviving in Communist Poland and it’s got me feeling all kinds of things so.

The lord is my shepherd; He makes me lie down in green pastures.

In the fields of dashes painted skilfully by a master artist-an anonymous sculptur of beauty.

Amidst the greenest grass; the cleanest cut and most needed.

Between willow trees weaping for their fallen comrades.

The soil rich in blood, running redder than a poppy or the colour of a flag, in underground rivers and passages.

Shot dead and masked by the army of blades of grass.

He leads me beside quiet waters,

Quenches my first in the freshwater rivers trickling past rocks,

The murmur of the lapping waves as quiet as one’s last words.

The rocks quivering in the cold water- with the constant threat of a storm of bullets looming overhead.

The rivers winding past each other in peace and harmony

Obstructing passages- the pastures split into rival battlefields.

Even though I walk through the darkest valley.

With death and defeat clambering down the sides.

Dust falling from the cliffs, rolling down the hills,

Like an avalanche of ambushes consuming the valley.

The boots on my feet heavier than the weight on my shoulders-and that weight as heavy as the souls lost.

My head held high, but my posture kept low.

I walk along the valley floor.

You prepare a table before me.

You provide for me when I’m turned away and branded as a foreigner in my own home.

When I’m seen as the blighted potato in a harvest-

My flesh doesn’t rot for you carry me through and heal me with the bread.

The table laid with the finest cutlery; even if silver holds no value when you can’t spend it.

You provide for my soul and sanity with memories of joys few and far between.

You can find the needles in that haystack and make my pain seep through the pinpricks they leave and heal stronger.

Bandaged with your love.

You annoint my head with oil.

Though your earthly servants push me away and I am a sacrifice for the parishes.

You bless me with morals and duty and honour and purpose and plans and tasks and and and

And yet my strength is failing me and I’m vastly outnumbered.

I’m the droplet of oil scorched on the pan and evaporated into the air

The dissipated energy wasted.

The lost.

I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever,

With you looking over me and taking my hand

And leading me into greener pastures; stiller waters; brighter valleys; fulfilling tables and love.

A house with warmth and fire to comfort and heal the coldness of my soul-built to withstand the harshest winters spent in the forests frozen and alone.

With fallen fellows and those taken far too soon-like roses picked before their bloom.

In the hills nurtured by your love and perfection.

The hills that remind me of the mountains I called home.

The hills where we hid as strangers amongst stranger things

The hills were memories were made and lost and revived.

The hills we could call our own.

[romanticbutnot]

Coffee

I drink my coffee plain and black,

Usually ice cold,

Sweetened with tears from my bathroom floor

And the bitterness of their salt.

I drink my coffee plain and black

With memories to cut through the taste

Like lime with tequila shots

To cut through the pain.

I drink my coffee plain and black

In its simplest form

Savouring the taste of each drop of dew

And the texture of the old new.

I drink my coffee plain and black

Inhaling the scent of a rich, dark bean

Smelling sweet fortunes and trades

And the imbalance of fate.

I drink my coffee plain and black

The best cure for being alone

Is a steaming cup of liquid

That fills your veins with gold.

I drink my coffee plain and black

With a splash of your smile as milk

A spoonful of you as my honey

And a lifetime of you as the price

[romanticbutnot]

Prayers

Muttered in cold breath

As a lingering request

Dispersing through the universe

One petition at a time.

Mumbled in cold faith

As a grasp at a covenant

Begging for ethics

That don’t apply to this situation.

Muddled with the air

With loves and hopes and dreams

Ice cold and abandoned

Like sinking ships.

Mixed with background noise

Unrecordered chatter

The patter of feet

Running for safety in silence.

Murmured as a last request

Submitted to the court of appeals

To be assessed and witnessed and analysed

Like the prayers of hopeless admiration that make all of us last.

[romanticbutnot]

I yearn for so many things.

Kisses stolen from the coats of pickpockets,

Seconds claimed back from old broken watches,

Fits of laughter; from the silliest jokes,

Timeless moments sealed in snapshots,

Lovers quarrels and silent fears,

The passionate sex instead of cold tears,

Afternoons spent reading old rhymes

To the rhythmic pace of each others hearts;

Hot chocolates in winter with mellows and cream,

Sipped by the fire; with flames licking our feet,

The dances of fingertips on each others palms,

And the patterns of beats as we try to dance,

Spring walks by the boardwalk with a spring in our steps,

Hands tied together with an invisible net,

As we catch laughs and smiles and some awkward smirks,

With the knowledge our hearts are kept safely from hurt;

Reminiscing the moment that were never to be,

As I hear all the words that you’d say to me,

But it’s all in my head- not that it matters,

Because I yearn for you above all the others.

[romanticbutnot]

Notice me.

I’m wide awake tonight

Searching the streets for some type of feeling,

Illuminated by the streetlights,

Spotlighted into infinite artistry.

The changing traffic lights,

With their sequence and purpose,

Shine a light on the shadows

Changing their meaning.

Shoplights with their neon flashing signs,

Screaming notice me,

Come to me,

Search for a greater truth,

With me.

(Ps this doesn’t even make sense to me so pls don’t think that all my other poems are like this)

[romanticbutnot]

You only call my name when you’re lonely

You only call my name when you’re lonely,

And I only hear your voice when I’m wide awake,

At 2am,

Blissfully content and blanketed by the night.

When I’m falling into slumber, and you’re fading into shadows,

When I’m creeping into darkness and you’re crawling from the demons,

The bar stools,

Looking for a holy war to claim back what was once yours.

As I reach towards infinite stars,

And they fuse burning fuel like it’s no one’s goddamn business,

Expelling energy into my broken heart,

To mend the bonds.

You reach for another sip of sweetness,

The taste of the lingering cherry on your lips,

The lipsticks and lisps,

Your demise and downfall breaking your ankles each time harder than before.

Because you only call me when you’re lonely,

And it’s pouring down with bucketloads of my tears and splits green teas,

And I only hear your voice when I’m wide awake and half asleep in bed,

Crafting and creating beautiful moments in our minds.

[romanticbutnot]

Plain

Somehow this paper is oddly plain,

This extravagant canvas filled to the brim with space,

Sentences knitted together with blanks,

Plasticine bullets flying past-

Lightning fast.

Seconds ticking with a fulfilling silence,

At a monotonous pitch and levelled amplitude,

Subtitles with nothing but nothingness,

Centred around the point,

A pointless point,

Like the tip of a blunt white crayon,

Plain on this page.