Skinny Dipping You And Me
Under the moon in the salty sea
Skinny Dipping You And Me
for the ones who never needed clothes to feel brave
Let’s go then,
skin to salt, breath to breeze,
where moonlight stitches silver seams
on waves that hush and tease
Let’s slip the world, just you and me,
no weight, no shame, no need to flee
the hush of tide, the pulse, the sway
we’ll drift where rules are washed away
The shore won’t miss us, let it sleep
while secrets stir beneath the deep
our shadows melt, our names let go
we’re water now, and undertow
Your laughter’s wet, it wraps my thighs
the stars don’t blink, they only rise
and nothing holy ever wore
a thread of cotton on the shore
We’re language lost, a moan, a sigh
two sinners floating clean and high
no vows, no time, just salt and skin
and every sin we dive within
Let’s go skinny dipping, love,
not just to touch, but to be undone
to meet where moonlight dares to see
how wild we bloom beneath the sea
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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More stories from Marie381Uk and writers in Poets and other communities.
A Little Bit Of God
January 2026 I thought I’d spend the night in neon lights on grainy film but my brother is telling me how an eternity of hell is caused by prevalent peace, and who am I to disrupt such a thing? So I found myself in the same skin with the same sights, wondering whether or not I am one of those– do I feel peace? Do I expect more when it is gone? It being everything. We’re running out of time but the car is belching up something strange and we’ve got God in between our eyes nodding along to every apology and plea spoken for our friends and loved ones– they don’t know any better, they’ll come around eventually. He’s telling me about barbed wire guides around lives and ties and wives and lies and, look, the snow is starting to fall so I guess we better hang up soon. But it’s been too long. We’re building fields of skills and realms of distrust and these moments are only seen now, can no longer be read as words, only swept with eyes upon oil pastels or smudged charcoal. It’s a painting of an evening, like Daniel’s soles in Edgar Degas’ mind, but if anything is just it’s the lack of unrest in skin like His and lives like this– okay, so maybe five hours on the phone is a lot if you have a job and you’re trying to cook dinner, but only one of us falls into that gorge and only one of us believes in what lies beneath it. My brother tells me things that sit in my spirit like half an ounce of prospect and a squeeze of bourn, how he tells God to let me in: despite my sins, despite all the moons in between these calls, despite the burning in both of our throats. I do feel peace here. I also feel that my peace is a subpar window job, a pinky’s strength avoiding blizzards inside the bedsheets. I’d like to spend more nights like this, with contrasting disaster living between a speakerphone, and God finding some space in between.
By Olivia Dodge5 days ago in Poets
Affection and Healing for Yourself
During the night of the last quarter moon, I gathered my ritual supplies. I carefully handled the chunk of black tourmaline that would protect me from your overall negative and narcissistic energy. I carefully walked the house with my stick of selenite in hand, asking the universe to cleanse our working space.
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Comments (3)
What a great, enticing piece of work, Marie. Very nice
Did not know that you could write soft erotic poems. Good job.
Absolutely stunning — sensual, free, and beautifully untamed. Every line shimmered like moonlight on water. Would love for you to check out some of my pieces too if you get a moment!