Rhymless Poetry 8

A Poem By Kassady // 5/4/2014

I want you to be completely jealous.
I want you to want me badly.
I want you to feel your heart beating.
I want you to think of me always.
I want to be the only thing you see,
When you drift off to sleep,
Or when you think of beauty.
I want to be your waking daydream,
Your childish nightmare,
Your everything,
And everything between always.
I want to be yours, yours only.

Glass Innuendos
"Come here"
The words echo over in my ears.
The scene plays out,
On constant replay.
I knew full well,
What you wanted.
I knew full well,
What was going on.
I knew full well,
What "come here" meant.
Your body language,
Your eyes,
Your pleading expression,
Searching my face,
For a connection.
I didn't turn,
I didn't blink,
The words slipped,
Sliding off my tongue,
Curling off my lips.
I had planned my answer,
I knew full well,
What I was going to say.
I had practiced over,
And over again in my head,
But never did I imagine,
That my words would come out,
So bravely, so strongly, so true.
Relief and anxiety,
Both battled strongly,
Battling to be first felt.
"Not yet,"
The addition was to heal,
But truth rang in the two words.
I didn't mind pacifying,
I won't mind giving in,
Turning over my heart entirely,
To you.

Constricted Anticipation
Anticipation floats in the air,
Filling my lungs,
Tickling my gut,
Grasping my heart,
In that familiar way,
Of making my heart pound,
My chest constrict,
And butterflies flutter in my stomach.

You say sweetly that my hands are soft,
Brushing your fingers across mine,
And even though I complain and scoff,
I'm pleased you think so.

Your finger tips brush against my skin,
Sending giddy tingles up my arms.
It's suddenly becoming hard,
To remember how to breathe,
Without sighing deliriously.
I bite back a smile,
Running my fingers across your palm,
Against your wrists,
Between your knuckles,
Brushing the honey colored hairs,
Covering your warm arms.
You raise the back of my hand,
Barely touching my skin,
Not a sound from your silky lips,
Stiffly brushing.
I kiss the back of your hand,
Your skin smooth beneath my lips,
So soft I caress it against my cheek,
Childishly content.
I kiss your hand again,
With the satisfying sound,
Of lips parting and tongue clicking.
Despite this,
Nothing could be more thrilling,
Than my hand in yours,
Nothing more comfortable or safe or exciting.
It's like an electric charge every time,
Your thumb rubs against mine.
Fingers entwined,
I can't imagine being anywhere else,
Can't imagine being happier,
Than I am right now,
After your lips have brushed my cheek,
So quietly.

I know not how to love but to obsess,
Waiting with bated breath,
And anxious heartbeat.
Addictions and habits grow,
Despite the boundaries,
That I once created.


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