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She laid on the bed and opened the cover to her book, and I began to read, consuming myself with each ****** that ensued.

The words from her pages began to get louder and wilder with every flick of my moist finger, my tongue felt heavy with an appetite - an insatiable hunger for a good book.

I read until she began to unravel at the spine and covers began to submit to its own weight, she could not let me read another drop, her final words on her last chapter were good.
A sensual poetry
I thought that you loving me would be automatic, 
but when I read your label, 
I realized it said batteries not included.
Hello Jim, what woes and sorrows will you drown today.

I cheer to your listening ear, for my problems are many and my words are slurred and winded, but my ol' good friend you are long-suffering .

Nevertheless, I know my secrets will be washed away in your alcoholic oceans of the forgotten thoughts and washed up dreams left by many, and all will be well when I succumb to a foolish stupor and stumble where I trek.

Cheers to you Jim; allowing me to see my reflection when I deplete you.

A constant memento of what a good comrade you have been through and through.
Ode to Alcohol
A fool who failed to realize his flaws, flabbergasted at the thought how he has yet to reach fruition; can such fallacies formulate for this long?

Even foes forge wars against such fundamentalism. But you, a felonious man, has no fear of anyone at all.

It's futile to fight such a closed-mind fiend of a man, fraud and fictive thoughts has already permeated such a mind;  for his ways are fragile, fruitless and foul like a dead tree of figs.
Close minded people are hard to communicate with.
As the flame flits about on the wick,
my eyes attended to her silhouette dancing on the wall, summoning me to see her being.
×
Everything my eyes beheld upon her,
was straight out of a poetry book.
×
I read her stanzas;
line, after silhouetted line,
she became lust to my tongue.
×
I only recite
her now.
×
(sumairu¶oetry)
She guided my fingers and told me to paint on her canvas.

Her moans were pleasantly loud as were they vibrant.

Fiery reds, deep blues, blinding whites and never ending blacks were just the tip of her color palette that night.
I needed to
know for me,

if I loved the lie
or 
if I lied to love
the lie.

It no longer matters.

I mixed my
 blacks and whites, 
now it's all gray.

I love gray.
You taste and smell exactly what 
I thought heaven 
would taste and smell like.

You kissed me
after you 
climaxed; sampling
your sweet wild honey
and agreed.

I went for seconds and thirds 
and developed an
insatiable sweet tooth.

I love giving you oral ***.
The gentleman spoke to her as his lips translated this thoughts into her warming body.

He whispered, 'it was a pleasure speaking with your skin'.

But, I must say, your curvaceousness left me utterly speechless.

If I may, I would like to take my time, until my lips can find the right words to convey how good you taste.
The kisses you strategically placed on my skin gives me deja vu,  I called out your name igniting a flame that started from you.

Girl please don't put out this fire, it's been awhile since I felt something where I lost myself.

I beg you, please continue.
There you are, standing in the hall with the moonlight cascading onto your skin, showing off the silhouette of your beautiful body.

I curse the Moon because it gets to touch you first. As I try to control my inner desire, for one brief moment, I allow my mind to race in desire.

Alas! I settled the discussion, I settled the debate and concluded at this one beautiful thing spoke your true fate: 

'Gorgeous.'
Gorgeous is your skin.
Gorgeous is your smile.
Gorgeous the way you walk. 
Gorgeous when I hear you talk. 
Gorgeous.

(Wild thoughts)
With my eyes I summoned you, laughing at the Moon as it is no longer kissing your beautiful skin.

As I lay you down on the bed I slowly open your legs, I can already smell your nectar.
I, like a hummingbird am drawn to your forbidden nectar, then for a brief moment I hear your heart skip a beat.

I blow on your ******* now warm to the touch, you let out a soft moan 'ahhhh, love, don't stop'.

With a smooth deep soft voice I uttered 'your wish will always be my command' I was truly wrapped in the moment.
The aerodynamics of your words slices through the atmosphere effortlessly.
×
Its succession is perpetual, reaching each listener that your voice can touch.
×
Your words are like the steady hands of a surgeon, operating; opening old wounds or closing new ones.
×
Your words are unbiased, unable to detect any and all human nuances; its only desire is to be heard.
×
(sumairu•¶oetry)
Newton's law: An object in motion stays in motion.
I wish I could
have seen us
in third person
I realized that we are
 burning the Earth down
 because of the printed illusion of lack,
that we created.
For the love of money is the root to all evil.
I want the words that I write to be a crime, that way, your lust for danger will draw your eyes to me. 

The trouble maker.
Nothing is more wanted then when it's dipped in danger.
Love, the moon has scars and we see it as beautiful.

So yours are gorgeous.
When you kiss my lips
my heart feels like it's unraveling at the seams,
and my emotions are exposed to you.

When you are done,
sew me up,
and do it all over again.
My words don't Shake like William's,
nor, do they Frost like Robert's.
×
My words barely lead the Way like Ernest's,
nor, do they have Hughes like Langston's. 
×
I don't know how much my Wordsworth like William's,
nor, do my words keep people ******* like Edward's.
×
My words are far from an Angel like Maya's,
 and they are barely Lovecraft like Howard's.
×
Indeed I profess, my words cannot do those listed things, but, my words can be a great expression of me.
×
(sumairu•¶oetry)
Her eyes were like bold sunflowers, so beautiful to admire when the golden rays of  light breached her eyelids.

I laid her down and whispered pretty nothings in her ear, sending chilling waves of arousal down her spine activating her senses creating goosebumps.

I could lay here with her forever as time slips away just admiring her picturesque sunflowers.

Her eyes contained beautiful greens and yellow as if nature hand crafted them herself.

Her eyes where like exquisite sunflowers, so beautiful to admire when the golden rays of light breached her eyelids.
take my pen.
write your own conclusion.

~

take my pen.
scribble your own miseries.

~

take my pen.
jot your own formalities.

~

take my pen.
scrawl your own elegy.

~

take my pen.
compose your own poetry.

~

take my pen
scribing is no use for me.
When we made love was it not a miracle, did the sky not shower its approval with flashes of lightning and deafening booms, drowning out your moans of being satisfied.

 Did the rain not drum on the windows applauding your beautiful performance, and was it not an encore for round two and three.

 When we were finished, was the sun not fatigued of being out, and did the moon not greet our skin as we laid in each other's arms; glistening as if we were made of diamonds.

Making love to you
is a force beyond anything 
the universe has ever experienced.
The heart is like a Rubik's cube;

Complete
one
minute,  
              
                Scrambled
                the
                next.

There is no algorithm to keep it whole.
Let me love you like it's a new religion.
Let me love you consistently and patiently.
Let your mind, body and soul be my place of worship.
×
Let me read your foundation, your values, your principles and your statutes, so I can lay them to memory.
×
Loving you will be 
the core to everything I do.
×
Please allow me to put my words into practice and review the stories of your past ex's mistakes, so I can learn from them and be the upgrade you've been looking for.
×
Amen.
×
(sumairu¶oetry)
Your voice changed my mood like a chameleon. Flooding my mind in deep nostalgia, I am surrounded by reminders of what pleasures we partook, we indulged, we unapologetically did, we confidently said and we therapeutically wanted. We ravaged, we begged, we, were, human.

Your scent still leaves a trace that even a bloodhound could find. Roses vanilla and a hint of cinnamon; my tongue tingles from the pleasure of closing my eyes, reanimating the masterpiece that went down at your unguarded borders.

But, I kept it cool when you introduced your new boyfriend.

'Hello this is__'

I replied 'What's up, the names Kitarō'

But as I spoke, I could tell we were harmoniously in sync when he called out your name twice; no response escaped your lips.

The third time triggered your body to respond; when your crimson lips were finally free from it's white prison it was photographically known of what was unsaid on your beautiful luscious red painted canvas

I knew you wanted me.
Wet
Wet
Drip, drip, drip, a constant rhythm as the raindrops collided against her umbrella, protecting her like a knight, his enemies small but many as she goes about her day carrying with her a bouquet of flowers picked along her travels whispering to herself.

It's the details she wishes to rope in and hold forever as she examined the wet spot on this particular petal of her freshly picked bouquet, magnifying all the perfect imperfection, because she sees herself, and there's beauty in that too.

— The End —