Join the Neopoet online poetry workshop and community to improve as a writer, meet fellow poets, and showcase your work. Sign up, submit your poetry, and get started.

I look up and He

I look up and then He.

Coffee shop chai latte,
foam at the bottom
on table
and I.
When I look up,

Denim dark indigo wide cuff,
he says out of function but he knows what looks good
and I know that he looks good
so I can’t stop thinking to myself
“My god he looks good”

This obsession isn't helped at all by this
ONE thing
that has become
THE thing to change
ALL things.
When I look up,

His hands are everything.
He, with fingers that touch
like nothing can really touch
because touch wasn't created
with the intention
to be
I’m feigning already
but the moments can’t even be counted yet
to tell me how long I've been clean.

I don’t want to be clean.
I want to be dirty with his touch.

Love with a bit of
hard edge
call me your bitch
Skillfully working me into
desperate need
of his
so each time he has me,
he owns me.
With his touch.

Until I would beg for this.
Die for this.
Live for this.
Ask for.
Do for.
Obey for and pray for.
On my knees and
on my back for.
Warrior fight or
innocent gaze for.
Burn in hell
or climb to god for.
Forsake all other flesh and soul for…

As long as in the end
I look up
and then,

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing stage: 


I loved the way it was written

Why thank you :)

I have written and re written this a few times - I love the passion of it but it has frustrated me at times. So I'm glad it resonates on some level.

author comment

That I have read so far


author comment
(c) No copyright is claimed by Neopoet to original member content.