I’d love to slice your eyes in little pieces
scatter them across night skies
so you go and glow my nights away
from the starlight in your eyes

I’d love to pluck a kiss from your lips
to plant in my garden of growing weeds
so when all fails to bloom too soon
your sweet scent is sent from your seeds

I’d love to clip the smile off your face
and toss it to the sun at morn  
so when night has lost its fight for light
I’ll have burnt your smile into the dawn.

I’d love to cut open your heart of hope
carve a heart beat out with a knife  
so if my passion is dead after I’ve bled
you may bring me back to life

I am not afraid
to send you my ❤️ in a text
if you ignore or delete
it is not the one in my chest

that is for one and my only
it will not go to waste
like the ❤️ in this message
I can copy and paste

so if by chance you reply
with a real kiss
without an emoji, you win
my real heart, like this

lips crisped cold, anticipation
building above and below
any seen surface.
months of waiting culminate
in an awkward embrace,
and two pairs of lips
branding one another
with tenderness and lust.

I am that prince
With a razor sword who
Ventured into that twisted
Thorny forest which
None thus far survived,

I am that knight
In armour bright who
Refused to fear the vines
And spines
And bubbling vitriol,

I  am the man
Clothed now in rags,
Torn flesh and bleeding
Heart labouring for
Lack of air and

Hurting for the lack of love
In the little ways,
The ways that count,
The ways that nourish
A relationship

And make sacrifice
Not just worthwhile
But a joyous act
Of service to one
I love,

Dragging myself  
Upon all emaciated fours
Through fresh thrown
Mud and hard edged
Indifference,

I am a pile of bones  
Bleached by the sun,
Gnawed upon by wolves,
Bereft of flesh yet
Bearing even now

A kiss to wake

My sleeping

Beauty

I kiss you as if to confirm you are here. With me. Not going anywhere.


To confirm your presence.


I kiss you as I kiss your hands, as I rub your hands, massaging them to make sure they are real. In disbelief, perhaps that it is your hand in mine and that I have the pleasure of holding it.


I run my fingers down your back, soft, your arms, sturdy. I clutch a wiry coil of hair, yours, in my fist.


I smooth your face. I kiss your face.


It is soft. It is safe. It is kind. It is right.

how i know i can't swim,
we somehow drifted apart
and i could have taken the advise of Moses,
and split the waters in between us in two,
-but tell me if love wasn't made for two
while i butter you up with sweet words
to have you as a spread
still feeling anxious as two ticks of
a message, still unread.

.....tying, tying,
i still doubt i'm your type,
that sort of guy you like cos
he liked you first,- you must call me cute
and i feel myself trapped in an  unwelcome
phenomenon -really feeling acute
but if you could feast on my eyes, you'd
fall prey to your hunger, if i gave the right look.

maybe i should tattoo my words
for their intentions to stick
but even a subtle taste, bite and a lick,
can at times overstep the tingles rushing
down to your feet. so i do prefer to kiss
but before the kiss, tell me if we'll be
trading skin for skin, or shedding skin off skin
cos we both know kiss will always
rhyme with hiss.

Sweet and supple golden nectar
Caress my lips, gentle as a kiss.
There is no step that I would not venture;
Nor no succulent sip that I would miss.
A touch of lips
In a state of bliss,
Unable to resist.
Closely rhymed with a kiss; and the tongue in between makes a hiss.
The world around is set ablaze
Stuck together in this sweltering maze.
To wish upon the stars to stay a little longer
And hope for the moon to hold in a little more fonder.
~RitzWrites 🍁