alexandria-cooper
Canadian
"A poet is, before anything else, a person who is passionately in love with words." (W. H. Auden) In poetry, just as in other arts, there is really no right or wrong. I find solace in that idea, and i take comfort in its application. I'm a bisexual high school student, who's just searching for an emotional outlet. Thanks in advance to all of my fellow poets.
Tear my heart out of my chest,
Throw it to the ground,
and stomp until your heart's content.
Ironic, isn't it?
May 28, 2012
May 28, 2012 at 9:31 PM UTC
Kiss,
and our tongues dance,
back and forth
twixt our
Lust
Lased
Lips
Take,
my hand to feel your
Heart, where
it will
Cup
Gently
Squeeze
Shift,
and sit atop me and
straddle my waste
while slowly
Grinding
Back
Forth
Tell,
Me where it
Tingles
Pulses
Tell,
me what you
need.
I'll
do
the rest.
May 27, 2012
May 27, 2012 at 11:37 PM UTC
Where can I go
Where no one would judge me,
Where I could be normal
Like I was in my dreams?
My thinking was "confused"
And no one knew why.
There was no escape from unwanted feelings,
No matter how hard I would try.
How could I go on living like this,
In a world where too many knew?
To ignore or even deny these thoughts
Was all I wanted to do.
What do I do if I don't understand. . .
Have an escape, or even a plan?
I can't just sit back and dream it away,
Not even at another's demand.
If there is a God up there in the sky
Why won't he take this burden of pain
So far out of sight I can't see it again?
Until then all I'll feel is shame.
Mar 1, 2012
Mar 1, 2012 at 6:04 PM UTC
Your eyes
Your smile
Your graceful control,
A puppet on a string,
Of love
Of lust
Desires and trust,
And every little thing.
Your fingers dance
Across your chest.
My eyes so close behind.
You pull the fabric
Show more or less
Chasing what they may find.
You smile as you capture me.
I'll forfeit to this lust of yours.
Libido at your every whim,
Ask lust of me, and all is yours.
We should sleep, but that's too bad;
There's clothing to be removed.
You ask of me, and off it comes,
Revealing more lust to be proved
Dec 13, 2011
Dec 13, 2011 at 6:56 PM UTC
We meet in moments truant from time,
Alone but for each other.
Our loves, our lusts, our lips align
'Neath night's silent cover.
Your mother had said, "No girls in your room!"
She knew we'd be up to no good.
If I were her, that's what I'd assume,
I intend to do more than I should.
In these moments, these few sweet moments,
While the barrier of our bodies is blurred
I'll stifle my whimpers, on lips so potent,
And pray that our bliss isn't heard.
I swore to myself not to come here
But you've just got too much charm.
I'm not sorry. No guilt. I'll not shed a tear.
I'll just close my eyes wrapped in your arms.
Dec 10, 2011
Dec 10, 2011 at 11:58 PM UTC