I’m not always sure whose mouth it is

Undermeyou

• 64 reads

I’m not always sure whose mouth it is

my throat is a mass grave and I’m not sorry

i want to eat a knife blade from the corner of your smile

your forearm across my windpipe, sepia fever dream, stained the color of the crook of your elbow

i stopped using straws to drink when I realized I’d keep drowning in empty paper coffee sleeves

the liquid bites my tongue, sends me tumbling through a landslide to 2018, and I reach down my waist band sweating in a too familiar parking lot

i ache against my palm

shift my mouth against a breath that’s not there

gulp down night air

wonder when the sun began to set this quick

dctezcan

• 69 reads

Call it what it is: swapping spit

I love hugging. I am a serial hugger.

Between the beginning of my career and the end, I learned to ask first, but it was often while I was airborne, arms wide and ready to envelop.

I'm on my second career now and surrounded by artistic people who, generally, hug as much as me.

Covid was a nightmare for us all.

Now, however, hugs are permissible as long as both parties are willing to temp Covid fate.

But kissing? Oh my!

Before I got married, I have to say, kissing was my favorite activity. I get why you would long for kisses.

But, has your dentist ever shown you what a swipe of your saliva looks like under a microscope? Mine did 20 years ago. It's the perfect antidote to the missing kissing bug. I went weeks, maybe months, without kissing my husband. Try it! You'll feel loads better about keeping your lips to yourself.

Have you tried spooning? All the affection, none of the microbe-filled spit...

EstherFlowers1

• 41 reads

Massacred Panic At The Slack-Jawed Gobstoppuppance Convention. (adult-ish content)

Inwardly she liquefied aortal butterflies;

Guiltily, with self-disdain,

She tried to mute their cries as her innards rumbled, gizzling at life's clankumbling chain.

Tears were there now, threatening

To recognize the stain.

Perhaps a simple breath's the key?

The shackled mortal dared

A shaky inhalation

As a passing stranger stared.

Stop! Her heart implored her brain.

please stop

please stop...

And passively she stewed herself into a kind of slop.

Just cry then. Breathing doesn't work as soul coagulation.

...drips and drops hung prettily, from ducts' or salivation...

"My girl," the voice accompanied a hand upon her back.

Warm and gentle,

Offering

to pick up cosmos-slack.

You're here, she told the stranger-man, through shudders and delusions.

She looked him in the eyeballs - blue - as Eros spun illusions in the air between their naked stares and time's forsaken crops.

He's here, she mesmerized herself, then kissed his startled chops.

Freed from fret she melted on the man who saved her guts.

He smiled.

Then, love-hungrily, she knelt and licked his nuts.

RosemarieThorn

• 23 reads

I miss

I miss what I used to feel.

I miss the person I used to be.

If only they were here,

and I wasn't so alone.

HandsOfFire

• 22 reads

wanting .

that eyes could say

what sawdust words

never could,

that i could look

and wonder,

and that was that

the possibility of

youth's greatest wish:

kiss

to wrench that feeling

from someone else,

to breath it off them.

the want

to steal it from your

eyes, or your lips

to miss

wanting

kissing people

to miss the

//romance

the

//bleeding hearts

to miss what

i missed

to long for the unreachable:

forbidden islands

and landlocked expectations

and wanton undreamt dreams

i miss what

i can't have

i miss what

i never wanted