PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Our chairs are facing each other

Great inches apart, mere worlds away

Our eyes are stuck on one another

So I close in on her with no delay

Music is playing but all vibrations stop in the room

The fan is blowing quietly but inside I feel a monsoon

Each centimeter moved is a stride as I burst from my cocoon

Our lips delicately converge on this most glorious night in June

As our mouths move slowly it drains from me

All of my, um, what's that word again, let me see

A word that means to speak good, 

Swell? Well? Oh hell.

The seconds pass too quickly when

I get this sudden, um, not again..

A word that means like, to feel, 

but physical, like your nerves, you know, real

Anyway, this feeling, it feels good

I can't name it either, I'd tell you if I could

A word that means like super happy, 

It's also the name of a drug, LSD?

My mind stops working, it's falling apart

But we've got this, connection? No. Ugh, brain fart.

It's like a connection, means we're in sync.

I'd tell you the word, but I just can't think.

Suddenly she pulls away and opens her eyes

I start to breath again like I've never done it before

Oxygen hits my brain, rebooting, it comes as a surprise

The words I couldn't remember returning once more

Articulation! Sensation! Ecstacy! Rapport!

These terms once unattainable, now creatively pour

The poetry came back to me, "An artist again!" I roar

Until I see her gaze searching along the floor

I reach out and tightly grip the small of her back

I feel my IQ dropping fast, my poet's mind starts to crack

I swiftly pull her closer and place her on my lap

The words leave me again as my wisdom turns to crap

Our lips reunite and my heart takes a leap

But at the same second my brain goes back to sleep

As her tank top flies out of my hand and softly hits the ground

I feel my brain blink off, it just completely shuts down

I feel braindead now, but I can't stop. Should I try it?

You know what, fuck it. My body can work on autopilot