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She Writes Apr 2018
My wandering fingertips
Trail up and down my skin
I can’t help but wish
It was your lips again
Blubber
Sometimes I get tired
Of all the blubber
The grinding of systems
The metal to the rubber

The pushing of points
The singing to the choir
Pickaxe in place of featherc
Look there's a bird upon the wire

Maybe potions going dry
No thank you please
And fingers going all stiff
While here awaits the feast

And vases laying all smashed
Words sitting there all torn
Lets gather the broken scraps
Rearrange them and be reborn

Maybe it's me and only me
Closing an old and tattered page
Maybe I've overstayed my welcome
On an old and creaky stage

Ah the sticks an stones are smiling now
The crows I think they've left
But the cinders upon ash
Still burn bright upon this hearth

Out into the clearing
See it twinkling up ahead
An inkling of some something
Some of us have thought of and said

Merlin's done it agian
Con-Ed's shut down
Tesla's come into power
And White Bear gets his crown
Oh
And
George Carlin is pope
Shakespeare is president
They both know the ropes
And you what ya think?
Wink, wink
Old out dated systems gone haywire, personally,socially, politically. A system soaked in ideals we call 'civilized'.........from my collection The Situation@amazonbooks/taralizdriscoll
emmie cosgrove Apr 2018
Trace my corners with your fingers

Caress my curved spine

Kiss every inch of me

Spoil me with your love

And I shall spoil you with mine
zb Apr 2018
my fingertips are always cold.
when I press them
to my face
or tuck them
under my chin
they are chips of ice.
the warmth feels good,
and i can breathe again.
Haylin Apr 2018
Sit on the couch- wandering hands and wanton mouths
Every now and then one of u speaks
I love you
Between kisses
I'm wet
She'll tell U
Tell U like She's saying I love you
U never move past the make out
I'm wet She'll say
U don't know how to think
Only act
Mouths devouring mouths
Bumping teeth won't be a mood killer anymore
I'm wet She won't say it, but it's all U'll hear
U can't breathe as U push Her down onto Her back
Pull Her shirt up and kiss Her stomach
U're wet
I love you but U'll hear I'm wet
Look into Her eyes
Take off Ur shirt
She'll do as She's told
Pop the button on those jeans
Giggle when She has to stand up and hop around to get them off
Don't really know what U're doing
Feather fingers stroking the interior of Her perfect thighs
She'll sigh Ur name
Gently remove that piece of lacy-nothing
Touch Her
She's wet U'll think
Think like U're thinking *She loves me
Kewayne Wadley Apr 2018
When the tide was high
I loved to hang over the edge.
Rising and falling.
The gap widening then closing.
No longer visible to shore.
I'd lean over.
The wind thumping me in the chest.
My lips peeled in joy.
Well conditioned hair.
My fingers lost in wave after wave.
The sails filled in a gust.
My fingers folded between the current.
I a stow away.
Finding my way to the helm.
My hand lost in a sea of hair.
Sailing towards the horizon
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