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EXPECTATIONS
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@wordsmithsanvil-blog
It feels like we got caught in each other’s natural disasters. Where you’re a monsoon of lust and passion, And I’m an earthquake, our hearts pounding faster and faster. The chaos throwing us together, tearing up our roots. Mind reaching for stray thoughts, trying to figure how this storm has...
It's okay
We weren't gonna work out anyway,
besides our sweet talk
and the naughty times we've shared,
what else was there?
Sure I was someone you could vent to,
talk you out of a panic attack, kept your mind on track.
But does it even compare
to someone who could do all that,
and more?
Who could hold you when words don't work,
who can cuddle you during a thunderstorm.
Do all the things we could only talk about.
But thats okay, I've heard someone say,
if you're a lover of two, choose the latter
cause if the first were true, the second wouldn't matter.
First type.
A young lady reaches out to a starving man,
not hungry, but craving attention.
She sent him two letters, an "h" and an "i"
together the letters started to talk
Words became stories, stories became smiles.
Smiles became laughter, as they chatted long after.
The firsts exchange was awkward, the man being blunt.
Skipping the boring chatter, and getting straight to the brunt.
Who knew, one could get so much,
sending just one word to a man who was bored.
Length of hair draped over your face as my lips brush against yours. Our near nude bodies coupled together in a lustful embrace. Your hands guide mine down your bare skin. Eyes full of wanting as my fingers make your heart race. Soon your grip takes hold, and joins me in sin. Once smitten, now bitten, we continue to pleasure, Our mouths take over, just for good measure. For hours we play, so late in the day. Until we must retire, drowned in sweat. Lustfully still longing to cling to each other. For now we rest, to begin anew, one day or another.
The chances of us working out are pretty slim.
We come from far different ends of the spectrum.
Not only in location, but experiences and inheritance.
You've got fans and admirers swooning over from all around the globe.
I'm just one choice of many,
What makes me any different?
What makes me special to you?
We are everything to each other, yet we are also nothing.
Just young kids, fantasizing about an alternate reality.
Where all the intricacies of life do not exist, only each other.
We mean so so little, yet we mean too much.
Invested emotions, potentially unrequited.
Bushfire
Wrath is coming upon us, not of the heavenly sort,
Of the pure demonic rage, Satan.
He ignites the overgrown brush, setting the town ablaze.
Scorches the ground beneath, opening up a rift.
His minions arrive to spread the flames.
And the sky will blacken, smoke from the fiery depths of hell.
She is undoubtedly desirable, not merely in a way that implies defilement, but one that makes her dominate every aspect of your life.
An uncontrollable need for her presence. Addictively attractive, impossibly important, precisely passionate, a grand gorgeous girl.
Her voice like chocolate, soothing and irresistible. Witness her beauty, as if you were a newborn gawking at your first sunset, laying in astonishment and awe.
Yearning
A growing tumor of doubt swells,
Cancerous slender fingers clawing at my chest.
Alone in my mind I dwell,
I fear it may be for the best.
Such a vast void between,
No contact, except through a screen.
One can only do so much,
Unable to give even the slightest touch.
For you and I to be us?
Or to set myself aside?
Unintentionally brought upon this fuss,
This uncertainty will subside.
Tattoo
My tattoo is a symbol for the sin of Sloth. One to bring upon the demon. He writes the contracts. To take the souls for hell.
It came out so shitty, as if the artist was overcome with his laziness as she drew it. I think my tattoo was supposed to come out horrible. So that I may regret it.
I regret it not because it is a tattoo of poor quality, but because it represents what I despise about myself.
My overwhelming lack of motivation,
the way I put everything off unless it has immediate gain.
The words I write to influence others into my way of thinking,
into loving me.
I got my tattoo the spur of the moment,
but deep down I know,
I got it to remind me to prevent myself from going too far again.
To be less manipulative.
To control my words better.
I got my tattoo to control my demon.
you’d never know i was this way you’d never know the truth, that i have been trapped in this body so angry since my youth.
people often come and go but few have ever stayed, which i have learned to just accept it’s because i am this way.
i suppose that i feel lucky for the ones that never went, because i know i’ll never change i’m thankful for the time they’ve spent.
i feel i’ve let so many down and feel that i must leave, many call it death but i call it being set free.
Voices of Light
Standing on the edge of Styx peering into the beyond,
Swimming down river would be irreversible.
With the angels of death taunting you over the edge,
Faint words far behind you cause you to take a look back.
Recite fond memories,
Yearn for loving embraces.
Faint winds carry voices, scents of recollection, glimpses of the future.
A place where the lives you meant to touch,
Never felt the warmth of your presence,
Their fates doomed to be left unfulfilled.
The earth beneath rumbles, hands of the dead reaching.
Glance downward, witness the hollow shells of their skulls.
The dimmed lights of souls in their eyes, growing smaller,
Attempt to take another to briefly brighten their omened flame.
Life is hard and rough,
Death is an unsurpassed difficulty.
A journey ended abruptly, far more saddening than one momentarily challenged.
Without past hardships, growth is impossible.
The path we've traveled, a way to evolve the being inside.
You have an army of the heavenly sort,
To shine through the black veil.
Insane Intellect
Unique thoughts are only found,
Where no one wants to look,
In the minds of the bothered.
The insane contain genius,
Trapped within a rotted mind.
Creativity is smothered,
By government issued drugs.
So we speak in riddles,
To hide what we want to say,
In fear of more scripts,
More pills,
More psychiatry.
Our intellect hidden behind a mask.
Life without music.
The silence burns.
Your ears ache,
Yearning for the beat.
A compilation of vibrations,
Ordered just right,
To create a beautiful harmony.
The cacophony soothes the previous absence.
A harsh adjustment, so blissfully painful.
Distance
A few small words, exchanged over a great distance.
Simple acts of kindness, with potential to become so much more.
Extravagant beauty so far away, admired by a simple man,
Causes inspiration.
Desire to see far off worlds, take in the breath of the earth.
Boundless ideas afloat in his mind.
To witness the curvature of such a woman,
Would leave a great man speechless.
Yet leaves this man thirsting for more.
If he could just hold her hand, the rhythm inside will falter,
A mere kiss would stop his beating heart.
Trite
I feel like telling you you’re beautiful,
Everything’s been said before.
I want to greet you with a kiss on the hand,
Hasn’t that been done as well?
I may have caught your eye,
But have I captivated your mind?
With my ideas falling short,
Becoming slightly cliché,
I fear my loss of words,
May push you away.
Pretty princess.
A royal beauty,
Admired from afar.
Countless tales told yet,
None know its intimacy.
The world in her eyes ,
Make many a prince float.
The flutter of fascination
from deep within.
