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Kewayne Wadley Oct 2021
I love the conversations that we have.
There's no rush involved
A certain amount of logic or
Anything otherwise overbearing.
We might not say that we love each other
in the sense of coming out
& Saying the words, but
We do so in a more fun generously
Giving way.
If I ever slouch or have something
on my face you tell me in a way
that doesn't feel remedial
Or wait until I reach your train of thought,
which could otherwise
Feel embarrassing.
A mutual understanding in patience,
Filling an empty space in my bones.
The cushioning that relaxes and eases
Tension.
No matter how goofy or if we don't see
eye to eye.
You're the only woman I want
To fall asleep on, while
You fall asleep on the couch.
With three perfectly good explanations
Down the hall
These are the things I think are fun
So much so I can’t choose just one:
To hold you.
To kiss you.
Be with you.
(Not miss you!)
Laugh with you.
Walk with you.
Listen and
Talk with you.
Ride a bike.
Park a car.
Stay at home.
Travel far.
Get undressed.
Lie in bed.
Don’t wake up.
Snooze instead.
Kiss your lips.
Kiss your ear.
Kiss your neck.
(And down there!)
Foot massage.
Shop and eat.
Motel Six.
Fancy Suite.
I guess the things I like to do,
Are anything I do with you.
store.bookbaby.com/book/insights-hurt
https://www.gofundme.com/insights-hurt-volume-2
Thomas Mar 2018
Easy to love
And easier to hate
Oh how things changed
From our first date

That cute little giggle
Once had the heart all a float
Now when it's chortled
Wanna rip out your throat

I once was " the biggest"
And always " the first"
Now my genitals have "shrinkage"
And I'm " the worst"

Thought you were a treasure
My good morning peach
Instead you are fool's gold
An emotional leach
With feminine hygiene
Of something washed up on a beach

I'd say I'll cherish our memories
But that would be lies
You're evil incarnate
The bowels of Satan
Wedged up in your thighs
Had some fun here showing some mock lyrics for an Eminem doing...
John Niederbuhl Oct 2016
I went out early and saw the sunlight
Dive on the breast of a mountain;
Then I watched the firs and spruces
Poking through the fog.

I ground their words into tiny flakes
And smoked them all afternoon;
Then I succumbed and floated up
Way up, like a balloon.

When I woke, the flames of dawn
Were raging in the east;
Nighttime left my roof and lawn
And crept off like a beast.

I was fixing the flowers
When blue-eyed morning
Stopped and came inside:
We visited over coffee
Until the dew had dried.

— The End —