The Poetry Thread

[Rietveld]

I’m giving the last walk before midnight
I’m giving up on everything
Sleep forgot about me, but still, I can’t forget him
I thought of every single thing I could but it turns
That he is here, there, everywhere
I just want to shut my eyes and wake far away from him
He would only like to end with this whole thing

He says he’s alone
What else could I think?
If it is not his lips, cold as ice
What else could I see?
The sad look on his honey brown eyes
The wind whispers again through his hair
He asks in silence to die and never wake

I wish I could run away and forget about him
I don’t want to see him
But I just remember his sad look
And there is nothing else I could have in my mind
I remember seeing him crying over the corpse of a minute
I remember seeing the ghost of him pursuing me around
It won’t hurt if I don’t see
It won’t really matter if shut my eyes and open them for someone else
I remember his reflection on a mirror
The pallor it reflected, the vice it undressed
The rush of stories in my head, the tattoos of his hands on my weakened body
My hands on his, and the shared passion

My friend’s heart is still too heavy to hold
I am set free and I still wander on his thoughts
I am a present pin on his being
The cards are set, everything is said, all is over and done

Apparently inspiration bacteria remembers me when I am sad. This is... well.... you know...

[Rietveld]

Newest
It is quite easy not to know, know to pretend, know how to act. Being sociologically correct.
But you… you were… we were, miles away from the safety I know, from what is allowed, from what is on my limits, limits that shouldn’t exist and, as in math, are only relative and of course, something I do not care at all.

It was easy, I don’t know what it was and I ain’t interested, I just know that from the “I enjoy your company” and “take off your jeans” and the most wonderful day? hour? minute? instant? weren’t more than 30 minutes time.

And then, after a few tracks of a non pre-meditated perfect soundtrack, gentle words, gentle strokes of your hands against my neck, a massage, messages, noise, your bedroom…

And well… Transmissions from another places and your words… speaking truth about not cutting the moment now the music gave the perfect set of love.

And then you, you allowed yourself to strike the first blow, the first kiss and then… I know I lost control of it, but there you were to take care of the noble beast you had under your control.

You and the perfection, your little body, the right kind of imperfection, too many teeth biting every inch of my body and me sinking my face into your perfect collarbones, wishing that aroma of yours to pursue the rest of my night, your white skin, stained with an old lipstick, your hands, working faster than I could notice, white splendour, the heaven. Flashing and so close, your body was closer than I never allowed anyone, and breathless you asked me never to go.

Awake, far from being sober, wishing that instant to be infinite, to transform itself in the diverse range of colours I can imagine everytime I see a glass, to be as infinite as the minutes I spent in my life reviewing a song, an ego-trip to feel the world was ours only.

And then, I say stop, you open those little eyes of yours, those eyes like painted in aquarelle , I leave, for a while, trying to think. I can’t, I take a look at the mirror, my eyes still say yes, I want more and I return with you, your skin and you all… you at my eyes, are a wonderful demonstration of the kind of loving that everyone, at a certain point should feel in their lives at least once.

No… don’t leave me just… yet…

But…

No… you can’t…
And I feel you deep inside me, the music sounds louder, the curtain blows and my eyes only look at your back, stroking it as wishing that moment, that dream would never end, the last songs end. You blush and kiss me again.

You stand up and I blush. I run trying to collect the few clothes I can find of mine, put everything on its place, you return and you kiss me again.

And I don’t want to leave that safe and white nakedness, the smooth touch of your slender hands.

And I remember what I wrote with my friend at a point and to myself, I smiled, then I smiled to you.

On the way back, you held me, you held my hand, you and I, talking about everything all we have to discover. Your small hand touches my finger.

I think of the next twenty-four hours without you as you kiss me once more before I see you disappear behind a mass of people…

[Rietveld]

Aug 30, 2010 19:52:32 GMT LL said:

facking hell

what?

[Rietveld]

Lost Message
Perfect sense of light. The sky slowly turns from the lightest of blues to a glowy silver gray and the first tears from sky start falling, kissing the earth at the same time we both lie on my bed and you place those lips on the tip of mine. So shy, with the wish it never happened, too shy, with the brutal and passionate, intense wish to have them on mine for the rest of the years, until every little tweak of my existance has disappeared from earth.

My bed, you, rainwater, slow-motion, cinematically perfect. You lie on my pillow and you joke, stealing it from me, I smile and I lie at your side, no one could ever beat my perfect secret definition of love, amour, amor, amore. Whatever. You start by kissing my cheek and then my lips, again.

Your smile, the thing I love the most, the sound of a piano, your hands discovering things I didn’t know my body could do, your eyes, your eyelashes, every inch of you. White glass, no intention of doing more than passing the moment.

And after a while I tell you I want you, I like you. I wanna spend my days with you. I don’t know if forever, but for this time, I want to be happy.

Happy to love you.

Happy to be desired.

Happy to feel your skin next to mine.

Tickling everything on your skin, to feel that the way you smell will sleep with me tonight, I want you, you taste better than the feeling of the rain kissing my face while I offer it a kiss of the smoke of the cigarette. You talk about the things you like about me, my hair, the way it feels under your fingers, the way I tend to roll my cold fingers on your neck and then kiss them. I want you.

I only want you. Nothing more than it. I want you. I want you to hold me as you say you like me to do so. I want you. I want this dying summer to agonize eternally if I can sleep against your chest.

But tonight, I am gonna sleep with your ghost on my pillow. Dream of you and try to think why I want you. Why can’t I describe how words leave my brain within the centimeters it takes your hand to establish an electromagnetic stream of fire? Why I can’t take off you of my mind?

Please time, make yourself go slow. I don’t need a future. I don’t want a past. I want this to be eternal. One can ask for a small bit of fortune at just one point? Ain’t that the truth.
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