It amazed me, really
The way she glided across the room
Blissfully ignorant of the beauty that reflected in her movements.
I found myself captured by the light
That danced across her face
Highlighting her eyes
That mimicked pools of melted chocolate.
I can still hear the echoes of her laugh
And her moments of pure joy
That cannot be duplicated
Replicated or Complicated by outside influences
I remember staring at the curves of her face as she drove
Memorizing the dips, lines, and scars along caramel colored skin
As well as the ones across a body
That proved to me her strength is immeasurable.
Every touch was brand new
Like I’d never been caressed before her.
Fingers that drew promises in the crook of my neck
Hands that massaged the arch of my back
Lips that made love to my skin
I was loved without words
Brought to tears by actions
Every breath I took against her lips
Filled me with warmth that spread down my veins
And every kiss was a hammer against my carefully constructed walls
That she found to be more of a nuisance rather than a deterrent.
I cannot count the ways that I love her
Not even by the stars in the sky nor by the blades of grass in the Earth
But I am eternally grateful to have found a love created just for me.
Aug 3, 2019
Aug 3, 2019 at 9:41 PM UTC
dreams of skin like melted caramel
covered in white linen
torture me each night
as I lie awake in my bed.
images of liquid cotton candy
straight from her inner sanctum
gives me cavities
as memories of her sweet essence
leave me breathless and begging for more.
warm fingers trail down a curved spine
and etch moans into each bone
while disappearing into the depths of her
lost innocence, enveloped by tight walls
that feel like home every time
eyes like chocolate pools widen
with anticipation as that ****** gets closer.
silent pleas of desperation echo between our bodies
nails draw rivers of red down my back
as you arch into my kisses and melt onto my sheets
Apr 17, 2019
Apr 17, 2019 at 11:53 PM UTC
when people are in love
they often say
they simply fell
tripped over their own two feet
face forward
and into the arms of their beloved
i did more than simply fall
onto the ground of your love
you, for me
were an ocean
and i dived
headfirst
roughly
harshly
almost painfully
into the waters of “you”
i knew i could not swim
but i did so anyway
i was drowning
entangled in you
surrounded by this being of “you”
engulfed in this feeling of “you”
and i did not know what came over me
but i let myself drown
i did not try to swim back up
because if i went back to land,
releasing myself from your grasp
that would mean losing the feeling of “you”
and after
submerging into the depth
the love
the passion
of “you”
how could i ever leave?
Mar 27, 2019
Mar 27, 2019 at 10:01 AM UTC
Learning to love myself means acknowledging the toxicity and flaws I long pretended didn’t exist.
Mar 27, 2019
Mar 27, 2019 at 9:59 AM UTC
Her dark chocolate skin is an aphrodisiac
Yet I cannot taste
Awakening the beast within
Dormant for so long
He longs to play
Her chest expands with every breath
Beautiful skin tone and gorgeous smile
Hair the way I like in pigtails
Reaching down to her buttocks
And her eyes?
Big brown eyes
They pierce through me like a sword
Never letting up their gaze
Seeing through to the beast within
Roaring with intensity
I long to feel,
My hands travel freely to antagonize
I long to taste,
The forbidden fruit
I long to see,
Her body move beneath my touch
I long to smell,
Her chocolate skin moistened by the heat of immense passion
I long to hear,
Her moans and cries as she comes undone at my hand
The beast wants to torture my beauty
Whips and chains await you my dear
Let's explore your pleasure together
JM 4/26/17
Mar 10, 2019
Mar 10, 2019 at 11:09 AM UTC
I wish the flavor
from the taste
of your mouth
could last longer than our distance
and grow stronger with more resistance to time
long enough for my senses to sense your fragrances' scent
within reach of your presence
and be present enchanted by the grace of your essence
Mar 10, 2019
Mar 10, 2019 at 11:03 AM UTC
She has eyes like melted chocolate.
You know..
The kind of chocolate to pour down her body
And lick from every crevice
As it mixes with the flavor of her skin.
She has the kind of voice that seeps beneath my defenses
Tears down my walls
And infiltrates the deepest parts of my heart
That I kept hidden.
She has the type of body that makes me drool
Like a teenage boy.
And I crave her *** as if it was a drug
And Im the addict going through withdrawal.
She speaks as if she's lived a million lifetimes.
Her words wrap around my brain
Breaks through my mental shields
And leaves me swimming in her sea of conversation.
She makes me stronger.
I feel like I can run a million marathons.
Her motivation and support giving me the strength
Of Superman with no weakness of Kryptonite.
She brings out the primal side of me.
The one that growls in her presence
The one that marks her and claims her
With no intention of letting her go.
She's my weakness and my strength
My annoyance and my source of laughter
My Queen and my Knight
She's Mine.
And I am Hers.
Mar 8, 2019
Mar 8, 2019 at 10:19 PM UTC
The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.
When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.
If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.
But most people don’t see it.
Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.
The poet lives in two different worlds.
Mar 7, 2019
Mar 7, 2019 at 4:30 PM UTC
A friend asked me
how to be a writer.
I wanted to say,
lock yourself in a room,
scream until you have
a poem and no voice.
Open your veins and bleed
until you know that your bones
are pure words and sorrow.
Act as if you slit your own throat
and all you can bleed
are your own regrets
and all of the darkness
you boxed up for inspiration.
Write your mom a letter,
tell her you're leaving
and you won't be back for awhile
Because being a writer is traveling
through all seven layers of Hell
and denying anything is wrong.
Forget loving yourself
when all you have is a pen and paper
fused to your wrist
and Jesus is tapping at your skull
saying turn back now.
Warn the neighbors that if they smell burning
It's just your soul
clawing at the front door trying to get in.
Learn how to be alone.
Learn how to lose everything you have
in order to feel release,
learn how to only feel deceased
from now on.
A friend asked me
how to be a writer.
All I said was
don't
Mar 7, 2019
Mar 7, 2019 at 4:30 PM UTC