#re-bumbleblossoms

[leftiswhatgodmademe]

Misery loves a company of discarded petals.

A sidewalk story told in seconds passed beneath one's feet.

Turn around. Look down. And marvel for a moment.

Roses are red.

Concrete is gray.

Love is fleeting.

Or so they say.

[sike-n]

A man walks into a bar

And asks the bartender for a drink

Put it in a glass or a human body either way they are one and the same

The man stands before the glass stands on the counter

His hands holds the glass holds his drink

Then the exchange

Mouth open the glass lets go of all that it is

Mouth open the man seeks to forget all that he is

Lets go of the glass

The glass tumbles

He stumbles

The glass falls

The man is down

Glass splinters glitter on the ground

Stars hidden by the man on the moon

Who has fallen off his throne

Not quite responds the bartender

As he sweeps what remains of the glass into a dust pan

And he commands the man to stand back up

[a-quietsoul]

always had my arm stretched halfway: ready to catch you, but never quite ready to reach out.

or the desperate attempt to save others and never yourself

[ho1y-water]

is your heart hurt /

did your feet slip in the sand are you /

all right /

in the dark stillness of the night,

everything is warm again

and kind. a susurration of wings.

clairvoyance. squareness and linoleum.

are we still men

if we forget to eat, sleep,

if we spread out in pale grass and melt

and drink blood.

i saw you through dark water /

gleaming on dark water

like so many stars. and like stars

the dawn made you translucent. gone /

and like stars /

you do not love me back.

pink sailboat floating to nowhere

two ships sinking in the night with /

the blackness of night

all around.

[n1mmii]

you feel like poetry

 it’s 4 am,

it’s just you and me in the entirety of the universe.

everyone else turned into clouds,

now they're falling as rain.

i wake up in your arms,

just how i fell asleep in them.

i feel you breathing,

i feel your heart beat against mine,

i feel you dreaming,

i feel your hair tangled with mine.

you keep me so close,

so close that our souls almost touch each other,

so close that your skin feels like mine,

so close that we might not even be different people,

so close that we might be one.

your voice,

your goddamn voice.

the haze in your voice,

the way you say the words,

the way you carve those words in my soul,

you have no idea about the things your voice does to me.

you’re in your olive green sweater,

i’m unclothed,

but i’m not cold,

you’re all the warmth i need.

i slide on top of you,

you caress my hair,

your fingers tangled with them.

you don't fight them,

you stay there,

tangled, 

with me.

you, feel like poetry.

you’re smiling,

the wrinkle on the corner of your eye,

the soft dimple on the corner of your lips,

you kiss me, 

you taste like cigarettes.

davidoff cigarettes, the ones you like.

i place my hands under your sweater,

i can feel your body.

i close my eyes,

i take it all in,

feel it in my soul,

then carve your scars onto it.

you’re looking at me,

looking at me feel you,

your eyes are partially closed,

but your smile, 

baby your smile’s so big.

you, you feel like poetry.

your hands touch my waist,

go straight up to that deepest point,

they stay there,

mold themselves in me,

decorate themselves around me,

like they belong there,

like they’ve found home,

“please never leave.”

“i want to sing for you” you say,

“i only have one heart, please have mercy on me” i say

 with my hands taking your sweater off.

you sing “sunsetz” by cigarettes after sex

my heart skips a million beats.

my hands tremble,

my soul quivers,

just at the sound of your voice.

your hands are so big,

i would fit just right inside the palm of your hands.

you’d carry me,

you’d take me home,

you’d keep me,

you’d look at me and say that you own me.

it would be an honor,

beautiful beautiful boy,

to be owned by you.

because you,

you feel like poetry.

[waadtariq]

there’s an aching in my bones

that fits the shape of your hands

it throbs to the lilt of your name on my lips

and it’s a burning that you leave

a longing that won’t cease

relentless for skin to skin to skin

for you to touch me again

for you to touch me in the aching

to dip into these hollow bones

all soft and yours for the taking

for you to fill this cavernous body

raw and wanting and tender

for a sliver of your warm skin

for my name on your lips

for your hands to heal this open wound

and linger

to leave their heat on me and last

stay

stay and soothe what calls for you

for i want your warmth, not your wake

for i want you on me

i want you on me lasting

all i want

is for you to just touch me in the aching

— there’s nothing in me that doesn’t ache for you | wt.

[dancing-on-the-waves]

Smoldering

Smoldering

Within me is a fire A smoldering fire Yearning to be a raging, All consuming Living fire

In this bed of coals hiding There are sparks abiding Yet to be doused or putout Still lighting

These sparks have not gone out though rare They just need a breath of air Someone to take notice To be fed See them there

All it needs is a hand A bit of tenderness to fan What is yet alive... In me Waiting to expand

There’s a fire set apart Waiting to warm your heart Waiting to engulf With passion, And love your heart

Within me is a fire

K. C. Barry

[poetbitesback]

Yesterday, the shelf above my kitchen table where a small hourglass was housed came crashing down. I won’t ask for more. Time and I have always had a fickle relationship. The give and take becoming more give and break the longer we’ve run around one another. There is glass and sand beneath my feet. I knew they were not the most delicate lover. I sit. I wait. Five more minutes and then I’ll clean this mess up. Five more minutes to tell myself that I too have not shattered. Just five more minutes, so I can pretend that Time has not also run out on me.

Five More Minutes // Olivia Larson