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Jeremyeckl Jan 2015
There’s a dog on the bench

By the car on the sidewalk 

She won’t move — 

She wants to stay dry 

And stay on the sidewalk.

I am paved in gold & the

Parts that make up a radiator 

A rigid source of heat 

In the cabin.

Like a ligament at the crook

Of your, her, leg — I am bathed 

In the light of the fireplace 

Waning from the moon. 

I am afraid of the moon 

It may render me a wolf caught

In a bear trap;

I howl.

I howl like the dog perched

Upon the bench by the car

Crashed upon the sidewalk. 

She nor I will move for fear

Of straining the safety of dry fur.
Pitter patter,
pitter patter.

The rain echoed in your head,
as you tried to remember what the drizzle sang
On that cloudy noon in November.

With its rhythmic tune
And endless repetition,
It danced its way to your sun roof
installation.
Staining the back of your mind with images of tear drops,
shed by the clouds.
For the skies missed your company.

The rain drops,
Quietly tapped on the,
Glass panes of your apartment; reminding you to use your umbrella.

Their warning useless,
Because you never wanted one.
Never needed one.
Even as the cool shower
came rolling through town.

You were there: Umbrellaless.

See,
The dreary weather here seemed so...
Relaxing.

Well,
not to anyone but you..

But it was as if the rain that day,
brought a hint of restlessness.
The aroma of coffee shops
became tempting,
like little boy's feet
drawn to sidewalks full of puddles.

They teased and tickled your exposed skin,
Those parts unsheltered by your favorite grey cotton sweater

The rain left the scent of wet pavements and fallen leaves,
lingering on the tip of your nose and top.

It seemed like one of those days:
Reading your book;
Your body tangled up in the couch;
A blanket to warm you;
Freshly brewed tea on hand,
as the endless chime of drizzling kept you company.

To you,
it was the most sensible thing.

The bustle of the city went mute as you walked along the avenues and streets.
(Especially without an umbrella.)
For where you went, you felt the rain.
While others got wet.

And for that brief stroll around the city,
slightly damp.

You were lost in the rain.
Calm and free.

For the rain was your friend,
And you were his..
Pitter patter,
pitter patter,
pitter patter.

I hope it  rains today.    

Sent from my iPad
It kinda drizzled today
WickedHope Jan 2015
"You're so                      
much prettier
                      with wet hair"
"Yeah?"
"Mmm... Yeah."
- - -
The conversations we have... yup...
Eleanor Rigby Jan 2015
When I met you the soil was wet
Underneath cloudy skies
And so were your eyes.

Now it's the summer,
everything is dry
You must say goodbye.


F.Z.**N
Touch me softly
And run a feather
From over my neck to my belly

Then
Up and down
round and round
Move your hands gently
Over my boomerang

And when you can’t hold it
Anymore
Move fast and slow
Eye to eye
Until our faces glow red
and our hair is wet with sweat

Crisscross, our
legs like scissors
#feather #belly #gently #boomerang #glow #red #wet #sweat #crisscross #scissors
MoeGallo Dec 2014
I’m rendered powerless. Just about breathless. I watch as each layer of clothing gravitates toward the floor. Strip off the clothes that enveloped his beauty. My knees begin to fail me. Through his stare it feels as though he’s already probing every crevice of my being. Eye-fingers ravish me. He’s bare. My eyes haven’t left him. He smirks, refusing to leave me a spectator. Clammy hands penetrate the chill of the tile lined room. He strips me. I'm sure he senses me shaking.. goosebumps begin to rise. We step into shower. The tap is high, the temperature hot. The passion as well. He’s capturing me. Rapturing my frame, Grasping me. Gasping for me. He pulls me into him.. into the air. My legs incoherently wrap around him. The hot vapors aren't from the water, but our lust we heed. It’s wet. "Think ya can make it to the bedroom?" My throat closes. Barley touching, the pleasure, pressure, of his words render me unable to respond clearly. I nearly whimper out an answer. The smirk returns. This act meant for cleansing morphs into such a ***** one. I’m miserable within myself, the sheer amount of desire burns. Pushing me to the wall his body presses against me. He pushes into me. His hips. His lips. I feel him sliding in and out, violating, his tongue twisting around my own. His body as well. We’re intertwined...
Inspired by Stardust's "Showering together" c:
Hope you liked it!
Ezra Nov 2014
The robe of haze is wet at its hem,
It must have felt the dewy drizzle.

The robe of light is dark at its hem,
It must have seen the solar eclipse.

And your lovely face is spoiled inside,
It must have seen who you really are.
The Good Pussy Nov 2014
.
                                  s
                          s­     h a      s
                       h       v  e       h
                   ­ a            d            a
                    v            !              v
                   e             s               e
                  d           h    a            d
                  s           v       e          s
                  h          d       s           h
                   a           h    a           a
                     v            v             v
                       e          s           e
                            d     h      d
                                   a
                                   v
                                   e
                                   d
Boys and girls, having your ***** can be LOADS of fun!

"Boy's?"

The operative phrase being "your *****"; as in, I want, no I need you to own my *****.
Suzy Hazelwood Nov 2014
I'd be consoled
for rain to fall on my face
because right now
I feel nothing
about anything

Soaking wet
in a rainstorm
might wash me clean
and maybe tomorrow
I’ll feel again
III Oct 2014
A smile a day
Keeps the rain away,

But sometimes
I just want to get wet.
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