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Shawn Oen Apr 21
Something Beautiful After

I didn’t expect to want again. Touch had become a memory, a ghost I nodded to in passing—familiar, but too far.

Then you walked in like a secret I didn’t know I was still allowed to want. Not loud. Not demanding. Just sure.

Your hands didn’t ask questions—they knew answers. Like they’d waited their whole life
to map this skin I’d buried under silence.

You kissed me like it wasn’t a reward, but a right—like you’d earned it just by seeing me
and staying.
Staying when I trembled.
Staying when I burned.

This isn’t a rebound.
This is a rise.

There’s something holy in how you undress me—not just my body, but the layers I kept hidden even from myself.

With you, it isn’t just passion—it’s permission.

To want.
To ache.
To feel everything again.
Lips like an offering.
Fingers like truth.
Breathless doesn’t mean broken anymore.

You don’t heal me—you remind me I’m already healing. That I’m not ruined, I’m ripe.

And now—now I know the difference between being needed and being wanted.
And God, you want me. Like fire wants air. Like night wants skin. Like I want you—with everything I was once afraid to give.

© 2025 Shawn Oen. All rights reserved.
ab ja na Apr 19
it
i
it remains empty, so empty.
would you write into it endlessly,
would you writhe inside of it fervently
please ugly please
consume me,
chew me,
grow into me,
shatter me,
destroy me
ab ja na Apr 19
we will gift each other daggers and stab a hole in each others chest. slide our hands into it and grab at our throbbing hearts. feel that? pulsating life
painted scarlet
tasting like rust,
like us.
bury me in you, will you?
David Cunha Apr 18
Her prowling gaze strikes
Heart lungs brain electrified
Energy for miles
- David Cunha
april 18, 2025
0:30 a.m.
ab ja na Apr 17
stifled, i feel
because i am a storm you would forget
the wreckage i leave isn't to your taste
i was not wishing you couldn't withstand me
that was never why i came on too strong
i just wanted to sway with you in the tides
i wanted to savor you in the highs and lows
i just wanted to be your personal storm
just that although i get it, who wants a storm
but i am a storm nonetheless
and no one likes a storm that stays
when it does you find a new home
you tell the world it wrecked you
about storms, within us, without us and the ones that left us, the ones we left and the ones we invaded
ab ja na Apr 17
but no not words
when i said i cannot have the truffles or the waffles or dark chocolate
you broke them down and melted them
you got naked
you spread your legs and you spread it on those lips that forever seemed to conceal a pearl even you did not seem to know you should cherish
i liked that you liked it so i nibbled them clean
but i had to think about how much more insulin
i would need in the night
i wanted to know what truffles and waffles were
i wanted to lick them off your lips that quiver most
but would you get it without the sugar that can **** me
next time
that way i can die a little late and eat you endlessly

but hey i found donuts without sugar
it was sweet too
i ate it alone because who do i share
the yearning for sweet less sweet
while in a sugary decay

venus, i don't want to be your adonis nor anchises
or for you to lie that i am them
or maybe i do, why not
i just wanted to eat something sweet with you
that does not **** me
another part of the confessional that encouraged me to say it as is, that ego death is not for this world. it will ****** you.
6 a.m.
The alarm sounds.
Eyes open slowly,
Fighting the pull of sleep.

7:30 a.m.
Coffee in my mug,
I race out the door.
I’m late
Yet somehow,
There’s still time to think of you.

12 p.m.
The phone rings endlessly.
Paperwork piles up,
Fork in my salad,
The first bite pulls my mind to you.

3 p.m.
Meetings drag.
Click-clack of typing,
Emails constantly pinging
Until 5 p.m.
And my hands tingle,
Knowing it’s almost time.

6 p.m.
The pan sizzles.
The air fills with the scent of ground beef.
The door creaks open
My husband greets me.
The TV hums softly.
Bowls of pasta in our laps,
And still, I think of you.

9:30 p.m.
Water boils in the kettle.
A steaming mug finds his hands,
While mine search for you.

I open my laptop,
Eyes aching from the screen,
But I can take a little more—for you.

The mouse hovers over a small document.
Tea steams as the page loads.
I smile.
Hands rest on the keys,
And I begin to weave.
Izan Almira Apr 13
you cup my heart;
enlacing it between
your fingers
with tender care.

you feel it’s beating;
as it is weirdly alive–
weirdly on fire–
above your palm.

so brush your thumb
against this igniting heart,
and press your lips
on it in a tender kiss.

as the only thing
keeping it beating
is the passion
that you coat it with.
This poem is inspired in Howl's Moving Castle movie from Studio Ghibli. Funny enough, I have literally never felt this kind of connection, but felt like exploring it. Hopefully, I did a half-decent job at it.
Savva Emanon Apr 9
In the quiet between heartbeats, I found you there,
Not in grand gestures, but in a most gentle care.
In every moment your eyes softly see,
The deepest, truest parts of me.

You understand when words fall short,
When silence speaks more than love ever thought.
With devotion, you stand by my side,
A lighthouse constant through the tide.

You offer respect like a sacred prayer,
In every look, in how you’re always there.
You validate the dreams I dare to voice,
And reassure me, love is not a choice.
It’s how you show up, again and again,
In sunlight and sorrow, through joy and pain.

And I, in turn, trust your soul’s design,
Accepting your shadows as wholly divine.
I see your strength, and I admire,
The way you rise from every fire.

Your worth, your heart, I deeply approve,
With every breath, I show my love.
And when your courage starts to fade,
I’ll be your echo - unafraid.

Appreciation fills my every vow,
To cherish the person standing here now.
Encouragement will be my gift,
A steady wind, a soul’s uplift.

So let this be the promise I keep,
To love you wide, to love you deep.
Where caring meets trust, and devotion meets grace,
That’s where our love has found its place.
Copyright 2025 Savva Emanon ©
The Poets Loft is my new YouTube Channel.
https://www.youtube.com/@PoetsLoft
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