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I Come To You In AdorationYou reach for me in the late afternoon when the sun resigns to a slow relent the sunlight falls to the back of the room to leave us in privacy, making soft and wonderful the features of an ordinary roomI Come To You In Adoration
You reach for me with no assumptions, no questions your arms two sure currents your body a silent stretch of shore a simple, clear note of wanting
I come to you in pieces segments of my self the first to breach on you is my living ball of sensation I touch, I taste, I feel I know and hear the thundering pulse of your body
Close
by ~DeantheFemaleUnit
The Great Love PoemThere is not one inch of you I do not wish To curl into, there is not one circle of your flesh & person I do not know by nameThe Great Love Poem
I love your smell Like a cloudy May morning When the leaves are new, tender & wet & waver gently above the hammock I bury my face in your shirt, your neck
You smell like a fantastic possibility A newness, a familiarity The unobtrusive masculinity reminds Me of what home should be
I cherish the way you look As I meticulously remove your glasses Kind, a pilgrim of charity & goodness Your eyes, endeavoring to a p
by ~DeantheFemaleUnit
HateYou are just... dull. You contribute nothing to life, do you know that? That beauty you criticize so fluently (not quite eloquently your clumsy tongue flops in a too-rogue mouth) isn't yours to tear downHate
Did you help build it?
You bore me. Your apathy, tired. (Coincidence, huh?) a flippant hand of yours, wafting with hot, lusty scorn - sort of stale though, in a way - points out how we're all just links in a chain
If ever such irony was! You're a living, breathing, sighing cliche.
by ~DeantheFemaleUnit
Turn InI just want to crawl into myself, just sometimes I mean, it's not like I'm a radical, or anythingTurn In
It's a lot of things, really ( not just the too eager clap of your hand singing stupid songs about your boyhood strands of campfire smoke )
The difficulty of striding out into the day
with a back bestride by demons little, demons, in a lot of ways but whispering evil nonetheless tearing silver threads of confidence into gnarled, hopeless fingers.
to get away,
Would be ideal. From doggedly pursuing past &nb
by ~DeantheFemaleUnit
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It's hard to live as a perfectionist
...well, I'm a semi-perfectionist.
But still. It's hard.
YES I AM THE AWESOME FROGGY HAT. <_>
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