But no one ever takes their socks off before sex!

We can pass for undersized cynics in pants
but naked, oh, naked
we are such children I can't meet your eyes.

You, with your hands cupped protectively
over your lips, cheeks puffed out,
and the silence spilling like spat milk
through your splayed fingers,
trickling down your chin.
And me, kissing the inside of your left thigh
where the skin is loose and goose-bumped.
My elbows haven't been this sore
and my mouth this dry
since I stayed up
reading ghost stories,
grandmother's rotted quilt draped
over the short spiky hair
at the back of my head.

But I guess the shame alone means I'm not eight anymore.

Besides, you taste like sunscreen
and embarrassing damp dreams,
not
terror.
"I think I love you"
is sealed like an old, old truth
between my face
and your knee.

Hi. The first thing I'd do is rate this for content.

The first stanza is fine.

I'd change the hands over the lips bit-it's a very strange image and I don't think that it adds to the poem.

I'd also change the connection between silence and spilt milk-in a poem like this, it's too connected to other images and that takes from your actual words.

I really like;
"And me, kissing the inside of your left thigh
where the skin is loose and goose-bumped.
My elbows haven't been this sore
and my mouth this dry
since I stayed up
reading ghost stories,
grandmother's rotted quilt draped
over the short spiky hair
at the back of my head. "

The imagery is very good.

In fact, perhaps you could get rid of what comes before it-this is more personal, and the "such children" reference undermines what you're saying before you've said it.

I like the isolation of;
"But I guess the shame alone means I'm not eight anymore."

I'd cut "embarrassing", as it's not necessary.

I love;
""I think I love you"
is sealed like an old, old truth
between my face
and your knee."
It's a beautiful ending.

Hope this helps.

Jas

First, I thoroughly enjoyed this piece.

It was emotionally involving from the start, a very satisfying read.

I would say that the first stanza seems to awake a certain emotion that is never really resolved.

Fantastic imagery, messy yet surreal. Love it.

There seems to be something unwritten, something personal, disguised by the language you used that is both intriguing and disappointing... perhaps like the subject of the poem.

You did an excellent job creating mood, very bittersweet and remiss.

Babanuuk

I might be the first to say I love this! it has a youthful voice but is mature.
I loved everything about it!

"Besides, you taste like sunscreen

and embarrassing damp dreams,

not

terror."
this was the best. i Love the description of having the essence of sunscreen because i love the odor of it and it brought tasteful, real imagery.

your style is very appealing to me. has a sense of a novel.
"since I stayed up

reading ghost stories,

grandmother's rotted quilt draped

over the short spiky hair

at the back of my head."
that whole background shpeel could have come from an honest novel.

"You, with your hands cupped protectively

over your lips, cheeks puffed out,

and the silence spilling like spat milk

through your splayed fingers,

trickling down your chin."

the descriptions are fabulous. Ur only 14 yet your writing style is ripening and refreshing. I commend you. this was fantastic!

We can pass for undersized cynics in pants

but naked, oh, naked

we are such children I can't meet your eyes.

(I think you could use a break after children: dramatic effect and what not, ya know?.)

You, with your hands cupped protectively

over your lips, cheeks puffed out,

and the silence spilling like spat milk

through your splayed fingers,

trickling down your chin.

And me, kissing the inside of your left thigh

where the skin is loose and goose-bumped.

My elbows haven't been this sore

and my mouth this dry

since I stayed up

reading ghost stories,

grandmother's rotted quilt draped

over the short spiky hair

at the back of my head.

(Beautiful comparison, quite a stretch but you absolutely nailed it. Great imagery on all levels. One thing that I don't get is how you compare silence to spat milk... to me it resembles awkwardness, but a sort of loud, attention drawing awkwardness that one tries to bumble through, only to wound themselves further as they push through, I'd love you to explain to me what you were getting at )

But I guess the shame alone means I'm not eight anymore.

(Bang: Sharp and cutting. Brilliantly contrasted with the last stanza which has more of a rolling effect to it.)

Besides, you taste like sunscreen (Is there something deeper here with sunscreen, or is it literal?)

and embarrassing damp dreams,

not

terror.

"I think I love you"

is sealed like an old, old truth

between my face

and your knee.


And the ending serves the rest of the poem dutifully.

Ok, basically you nailed it. Teenage passion has been exposed. This is like, a less sell out, less cliched and infinitely better take on pete wentz style angst. I could relate to it perfectly, which obviously means the poem hit its target. Well done.

The title was great, it didn't fit the poem, but it caught attention and I guess that means it did its job.

Great work man. I'd love to read more