When was the last time we kissed on the corner of a street?

When was the last time we kissed on the corner of a street

when it mattered the most? You say

why is it that when we age

that drift of sensual exhibition seems to drift from us,

an exhibition that knows no boundaries except

to exploit what we once innocently felt,

like an impulse waiting to explode,

then implodes from the inside out.

that used to be us. . .young, wicked, dangerous, un-wise,

un-visceral, un-universal, genuine angst at its unpolluted

but somehow we have become polluted with the

do’s and don’ts, the acceptable and unacceptable,

the conventional and unconventional of age

so why should we live by those fucking rules? You grab

my hand and pull me close to you, and far from them,

in my mind you are still sixteen, and your kiss still tastes

of Marlboro mint faintly washed by a bottle of domestic beer

just like the night I snuck out of my parents’ house

to make-out with you beneath a lighted pole on the corner of a street.    

 

 

hollow

you packed a suitcase

slipped a flower in your hair

and turned to say ‘good bye’

without so much as a tear in your eye.

 

but I must’ve been

the most heartbroken man

you had ever seen.

 

I guess it was in that moment

when you, too, realized

that you didn’t have to be

so goddamn mean.

 

string

your hands

slip up my dress

 

curious fingers

trace the contours

of my silhouette

 

until your hand

eventually settles on my thong

 

you grin, I smile

 

two provocative thoughts

escalating

with only a string of fabric

separating us

 

Devlin @ Eyes+Words

 

Well, it has been roughly 2 years or so since I had any of my work [poems] published on another Online Journal. . .So I humbly thank Jacob @ Eyes+Words for accepting one of my poems.

 

And for the little Followers I have, I hope you enjoy “Lightening”!

 

Thank You, Jacob!

 

 

A Beautiful Poem

 

I watched the sun

as it rose from darkness

and slowly crept upon your sleeping face

like a stalking lover

inhibiting you in places

only a woman could phantom [on a man];

 

I cringed with envy

as I watched that same stalking lover

take flight over your chiseled body

while the vast rays of its translucence

pierced your flesh and ravaged your orifices ~

the same orifices my body

sweated upon

licked upon

kissed upon

came upon;

 

how I ached to strangle that stalking lover

with every strength of my hands

with every beat of my heart;

 

I took a step forward

with the intention

of abruptly pulling down the blinds

but the sun suddenly caught

the naked of my glory

into it’s stalking wrath;

 

I bit back my anger then froze

when my lover awoke

his eyes falling upon me

with a grin that echoed for miles:

 

‘goddamn, you’re beautiful,’

 

he flushed

I blushed

 

‘beautiful. . .like a poem.’