Poetry for thought

title:
How to ache?

It aches sometimes,

Or maybe it aches all the time,

Maybe the ache has always been there,

Maybe it hides behind all the motions of life.

Life must be lived I am told over and over,

But how do you live, when there is a hurt, an ache,

Always searching a wound to penetrate,

Searching for a way to exist, exit.

Which means, every situation, every moment,

In the algorithm of the mind, it must answer to this ache,

The mind must find a way to release this into the world,

Or keep it within, having lonesome conversations,

Inside the ever changing world of ideas, beliefs, emotions, blood vessels…

The mind and the ache have many conversations,

Most often the mind wins, the heart cajoles, sings lullabies,

The mind beams a proud smile,

Watching the ache bloom into a flower.

Like a parent, the mind and heart know that this isn’t over,

There are more conversations to come,

Life will spiral, the mind and heart will need to learn new things,

New languages, new worlds will be presented in front of them,

While I keep living, learning and listening,

The mind and heart keep a watchful eye.

But the ache, like a wilted flower will show up,

With tears streaming, with anger raging, and silence screaming.

Poetry for thought

Title: Silence

YouTube plays a song that I heard when I hardly heard your voice.

When you were far away,

Even in these notorious times of technological connections.

“Invest in cuddles, and not conversations,” I said, yesterday.

And today I am craving for all those conversations we never had,

And even more so for those silences.

Though we were silent, it was in separation.

Silence in togetherness has its own melody,

Its own dance, its own memory.

As the song comes to an end, so does this verse.

We have drifted far from that month long, self-imposed exile,

From our love, our silences, our cuddles and everything in between.

And here we are today, in silence, but together.

Poetry for thought

Title: Imagination

Imagination doesn't suffice on a day like today,

Today should be spent falling asleep under trees,

With your hand in my hair,

Collecting smiles, watching the colour Red

Dancing in your eyes.

With every gaze, I fall apart,

And with every smile,

You put me back together,

Give me all those smiles,

I'll bottle them up and keep them for cold nights.

On days like today, imagination doesn’t suffice,

I close my eyes and I can feel your breath at my neck,

But you aren’t here and I am not there,

But imagination… is a bitch, makes you want it

Right now. Right here.

On a day like today, you should be here,

Distracting me, teasing me,

Leaving me struggling for air,

Did I mention?

Imagination doesn’t suffice on a day like today.

I am left wondering if I would forget how you smile,

And I am being greedy with memories,

Trying to always remember,

Replaying them over and over and over….

Because, you know, imagination doesn’t suffice,

9 January, 2018

Poetry for thought

Title: Good Morning

Wake up, lover.
Look, the sun is streaming in,
Drawing patterns on your skin,
Warming corners under my fingers.

While I move the covers away from you,
Here take my naked chest for warmth.
Stay warm, lover,
I am just getting started.

Your naked stomach,
Against my naked chest,
Your hand in my hair,
Are you falling asleep again?

That’s alright, lover,
Stay warm,
While my fingers find your soft nipple,
Don’t open your eyes yet.

This half asleep, half awake
Moment is my favourite,
While I part your legs slowly,
Stay warm, lover.

I am just getting started,
Your warm skin against my lips,
At the curve of your waist,
Making my body warmer.

I want to stay slow,
Keep you drowsy,
But I am thirsty,
And this proximity is driving me insane.

I take you into my mouth,
Now, your eyes wide open,
Tug at my hair harder, lover,
Show me where to go.

Are you awake?
Are you warm?
I am just getting started.

21 December, 2017

Poetry for thought

Title: Pictures

I want to send you pictures,
Disconnecting in this connected world is hard.
So.
I want to send you pictures.

But will these pictures ever tell you those thousand words they are supposed to?
Proverbs are being questioned now.

Let's not digress.
I want to send you pictures,
Of my day, of my face, of my hips, of my skin.

And you ask me for them,
For the fleeting moments in my day.
I willingly submit to your demands.

But will these pictures ever tell you those thousand words they are supposed to?

Well, they don't tell you things like -
The flowers are blooming here and you should touch them.
The flowers are just background fillers in the picture I send you.
But you should be here looking at them,
And me looking at you.

But.
But..
But...
I still want to send you pictures,
Maybe some day
The words will come back,
And pictures will scream,
And they will tell stories.

And I will be listening to you
Reliving those pictures.

Poetry for thought

Title: Lurking

Lurking.

You are lurking in my mind.

I should be thankful that

you are not lurking in my bed.

Melancholy.

Deep, deep sadness.

It grips me in those moments

that you lurk into my mind.

Miserable.

I am so very miserable.

Your memories are making ripples

in oceans that are already wild.

Desirable.

Miserable desires.

Poetry for thought

Title: Of Lovers.

I miss that weight of another person on me.

When they’re kissing me, with hands searching.

With hands desperate, but mouths gentle.

Do you remember that?

That feeling of carrying another person’s weight?

Those soft creaks and moans from your body?

I can’t breathe suddenly, but you cant stop kissing either.

I miss it; the warmth, the sweat, the search.

Slowly the weight becomes nothing.

All we have left is instinct.

And with it, we go places and take holidays in our minds.

In our bodies. In our dreams after.

I really miss that instinct to spread my legs at their will.

Their slow soft kisses, leading me, teasing me.

Their rushed breaths, almost tearing my skin.

I miss that weight of another person on me.

Around me, spinning legs like they are vines.

Humming lullabies and I love yous.

I miss them all.

Desitined to dream of them all.

And of all those to come.