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 May 2017
S
Heavy breathing

Lip biting
Teeth grinding
Stop writhing

Heavy breathing
 Apr 2017
Scott F Hemingway
Ya sacrifice
yo seat
with ardor
of heat
on beach
with noise
ya enjoy
from with
wind of
yo heart
that ya
watch sundown
and hew
yo bikini
in the
yard here
with me!
 Apr 2017
Jonathan Witte
You already have my heart.
And though I’m not dapper

enough to wear one, my body
is yours at the drop of a hat.

My mind, too, belongs to you:
before you even read them,

these lines are yours to open.
Slide a finger beneath the seam;

undo me with a concupiscent flick.
Spill me onto the bed. Take me in.

You’ve read me before.
Tonight, read me closer.
 Apr 2017
Sadie S
I don't know what to say.
I can't even explain to you how I feel.
I guess in simple words,
I feel used and abused.

You were everything to me.
I cared so much about you.
I gave you everything I could.

What was I to you?
Just some *** object you can use and abuse?
Just a *** object so you can fill your fantasies.

Did you even see who I was underneath my skin?
Did you see me as me?
Did you just hide me behind the images of your *******?

What was I to you?
Just some *** object you can use and abuse?
Just a *** object so you can fill your fantasies.

Well I got some news for you.
Listen to what I have to say real close.
I am human being.
I am a girl with a open heart.
You took advantage since I fell for you hard.
You broke my heart.

What was I to you?
Did I mean nothing at all?
Just a *** object you can use and abuse.
Just a *** object to fill your fantasies.

Your compliments mean nothing.
When I look you in the eye,
I can see that you just told me a lie.
I tried to hold on.
I guess I tried too hard for far too long.
I am finally to the point, where I am just numb.

What was I ever to you?
Just some *** object you can use and abuse?
Just a *** object to fill your fantasies.
That is what I was to you.
I wrote this poems to explain what it was like to used for *** and how wrong it felt. 8/29/2014
How do you taste a woman?
Do you let your breath
Take over her skin
Or do you,
Gently
Uncover
Her treacherous,
Deceitful, delightful touch?

Do you take her sight for granted,
As if it was yours to own,
As if she would
Never vanish,
Or do you know
She's nothing more
Than a chimera on a wall,
Than Clotho's spinning thread
In an ancient story of forgiveness...

Do you trust her soft and humid body,
Like a silky cloth soaked in
Spicy peppermint oil,
Or do you fear
Her lips
As if they'll
Harm the pulse
Of your easily grown
Desire for all that she has enchanted?

Do you let her fingers linger
Somewhere in between
The locks of hair,
As they were
Her only to poses,
And make them come alive
Like serpents shadows on a desert's moonlight?

All in all, a woman cannot be
Taken for granted,
As she isn't there
Only because
You see her
Near.
No.
A woman is
A passing shadow
For your mesmerized vision.

A woman is that summer rain
On your heated body,
Or that devastating
Storm on a
Moroccan
Desert.
She is both
Dust and wind,
Love and hatred,
Hope and despair.
She is nothing more
Than clear, cold water.

So drink the woman
As you taste
Water
Turned
Into good wine
And tell me, stranger...
How do you taste a woman?
thank you for all your comments and likes. never thought that this poem would be so appreciated. thank you again and again.
 Apr 2017
wordvango
flesh concious since
my mom caught me and my cousin Anne naked in that old beat up rusty hulk of a truck right next to the outhouse
playing show me yours
at five years old and scolded us like satan's spawn
several psyches through my tale
I decided to live with it
got naked one day
ran through the ******* middle of town
plucking flowers from gardens and graves
had several pinned in my hair by
the time the constables caught me trying to
steal a shrubbery from the
garden center at Wal-Mart
 Apr 2017
cait
dripping in your love
i find myself licking each finger
and savoring the sweetness.

your approval tastes like chamomile,
blackberries, and melted icecream.
the taste of you is even sweeter.

to be here
drenched in your affection
is the most saccharine dream
i could ever hope to imagine.
 Apr 2017
Lora Lee
Why sleep
        when the words
             are running through
       the maze of my mind
gushing up through
my pores
     in liquid divine
Why sleep
      if my fingers could
           be interlocked with yours
wrists pinned
    our legs a-tangle
          souls wrapped
             around each other
                    like the crush of
                    viscous silk
my breath
          entering you
                  with the purity
           of the most nourishing,
                            ink-stained milk
How on earth to sleep
when this wild restlessness
electrifies my bones
makes me roam into
     the caverns of deep
            as the rushed heat
          disintegrates my clothes
             my inner loneliness
holds me in the night
spoons me for comfort
cups my ******* hard from behind
grips my throat
and squeezes me
with its presence
crushes my heart
with its emptiness,
                   its ghostly weight
tries to steal my breath
attempts to control
my fate

And I do not let it
No way
           hell no
I will fight this
to the end
I will keep myself alive
and my soul will wander
through the night air
my womb
will search
for her home
as the blood spills
from the tip of my pen
and my heart beats
in lit
darkness,    
      alone
 Apr 2017
phil roberts
Put the kettle on
The Dodger's here
Him and me sat chatting in the sun
As happy as gypsies leaving town
We have a lifetime between us
Over forty years of friendship
And a thousand events and people
Indelible memories
Me teaching him his first chords
Fingers stumbling on the frets
Now he plays like a dream
And he's taking the band
Into the studio next month

All down the years
It's been music and laughter
And a few daft adventures
A few rows but then
We're both fiery characters
And they were soon forgotten
In favour of a laugh or a song

And now we sit in the sun
Remembering old friends
And "Do you remember when"s
The summer of '76 was rich
Guitars in the hills
Writing songs and poetry
Happy days, old friend
Happy days indeed

                                 By Phil Roberts
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