I want to feel the bite of your hunger. I want it to leave marks.

You're not the Six Million Dollar Man, but I'd take you apart and put you back together again. Better than before.

I can feel him in the silence. His thoughts like a deep inhalation of me.

Whisper to me like night's kiss, each reveal and blushing vulnerability that crosses every line you've drawn.

He told her, your eyes are a sparkling universe I want to explore.

To gain access to the secret vault of my heart search not for key nor magic word for even I know not what it is my head my heart & soul working in concert will bring those sibylline syllables unbidden to my lips the click of an unlocking door neither loud nor showy a spectacle only to us.

Part the sea to know what treasures of the deep remain hidden; part my ribs to discover what is priceless within me

Eyes that watch me that see me noticing everything the laugh I find in them and the smile that is for me and me alone.

We, the emergence of Summer in Winter the beginnings of Spring where the kiss of heat thaws the ice encasing us as this blaze gains ground and resistance is shattered.

When winter stripped me of warmth I felt your touch and knew summer's heat would be mine once more.

they're executing moms and nurses in the street. they're using preschoolers as bait. they're stealing people's dads and grandmas and children. they're tear gassing babies. they're staking out schools. there is no remedy but abolition. any proposal that doesn't start there is an act of violence.

you are always with me i don't reach out to you i reach in

ICE just gunned down ANOTHER person, beating a man half to death before shooting him at point blank range. What the fuck are we doing? ARREST ICE NOW. PROSECUTE ICE NOW. I will not rest until every single one of these murderers is held accountable to the communities they terrorize.

unthinkable sacrifices carrying the truth dusted with presence as the intermediate between land and sky blends with sardonic wilds giving energy to resistance alleviating the furnace of direction only to wonder, where did the clouds go in those nine shots #AlexPretti #Poetry #Resistance

A poet doesn't say I have loved you for three years, they say my heart has recognized the beats of yours for 1,095 days, and in those days, 1,576,800 minutes.. this knowing has become a part of me.

Seriously, are we being Punk'd?

Every day, another version of 'Never have I ever...' Will this madness ever end, or will it be our end?

She is the idea that blazes brightly in his thoughts.

The Big, Beautiful Journey Facing who we've been is to know who we are.

Special places Good news Sharing with those who mean the most to us Sweetening the experience

A new year of wishful wonderings and feathered fancies, that give flight to our imaginations, and light a fire within our souls.

I am a woman of depth I am safe, not strategic I love deeply and show up fully emblazoned with battle scars.

Being off boarded archived decommissioned. Now, instead of a breakup, there's emotional termination where access is revoked with politeness. It's not honest. The absence of a mess does not reflect the scorched earth actions taken.

A manufactured end leaves you comfortable, unwilling to look in the mirror to see what's broken in need of repair. A manufactured end is a lie you tell yourself to feel sanctimonious about your choices knowing there is no substance and what you are building has no foundation.

She is not meant to sit upon the shelf taken down to admire then returned, untouched she is fire and warmth and color to be engaged with, touched and felt deeply and once you have experienced her you are forever changed

I find within my days a binding tenancy between you and my thoughts.

Dripping secrets from her fingers her pen spoke louder than her voice with a whisper he moved closer to hear her sweet accent echoing within the chambers of his heart.

Slow hope and surrender

Intention carries weight.

Make it exquisitely erotic make it a slow burn no need to rush it should be savored.

We become love and ashes as we let this fire burn undeterred untamed knowing we are fated to rise again and again and burn anew.

How the mighty will fall amid tangled sheets.

The lights on the tree twinkle reminding me of a smile that reached ocean eyes and lingered there when his gaze was upon me, enfolding me in warmth and love my shelter from the storm my clear sky sunny day my no words are needed as we sit here in silence speaking with our eyes, our touch.

2025 has been a fever dream

I woke light spilling over the pillow feeling you there beside me your touch upon my hip, a fragment of my dream the ache oh so real.

She is a poem only he knows the words to.

Morning light upon my curves kissing my skin a moment before his lips.

He saw what lingered below the surface waiting to break through and breathe.

In our dreams we are free to be and to have what and who we desire until we make those dreams a reality.

There is something dark, wild, and feral within dancing freely unapologetic authentically me; shadows long known that move in tandem with my light

If we synchronize our watches maybe we won't run out of time, the steady tick of the clock matching the beat of our hearts.

Devotion measured not in what is said but rather felt.

Your hands as they roll over me like waves, taking me under.

This darkness mirrors what is within.

The day fading gracefully into darkness, indigo that cloaks the night in fathomless whispers; some for lovers some for loners.

There is simple honesty in an unwavering gaze and fingers threaded in belonging.

Scarlet thoughts that bleed out with my blush unmasking me.

The most potent first impressions are a dangerous cocktail of looks, personality and wit with a dash of lust thrown in for a kicker.

Blanket me with the warmth of your tender embrace for when the cold winds howl and bite, I want to feel naught but your touch.