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I may as well be a widow
Clinging to a past love that is no more
The sweetest tang of heartache
For a me, as I was before
It seems like forever ago
Since I became mature
Innocence crumbled to nothing
But a beaten senseless
*****
 May 2015 Emma Pickwick
Chris
.

Whispering apricot beams shine upon frilly sheers,
lazy shadows dance in daffodil dawn colours,
pirouettes of pleasured moments,
silently flowing on smooth brush stroke walls

You breathe, softly, the sweetest sonnet,
rhythmically exhaling beneath satin sheets
symphonic…bringing a grin to the sunrise,
blushing clouds hide behind a bashful horizon

Placing a gentle kiss upon rose petal shoulders,
you stir ever so slightly…eyes flutter, chiffon wings
hugging the pillow wistfully, floating within,
cascading between dreams of us

Exploring the mesmerizing curves of your body,
my lips touch warm porcelain skin,
the faintest sigh escapes, a smile appears
as your wispy fingers seek my own

A purr escapes, whispered desires sooth,
tranquil thighs twitch as they part slightly,
the sweetest scent tempts me, awash in dewdrop bliss,
glistening beads of summer rain memories

Probing gentle folds, serene recesses of silken slivers
sipping the morns perfect elixir, ambrosia,
seeing your eyes wide open now
and falling once more deeply into their hypnotic beauty

Maple sugar cravings, slippery pearlescent glimmers,
tasting your flavors as methodical moans sift dawns hush,
drippings linger my lips…nectarous indulgence,
essence of honeysuckle breezes

Hands ****** my hair, wavy lengths, grasping  
tickling heated embraces, melting into the morning
reaching beneath arching form…pulling nearer, closer
quilted comfort massages

Sunshine illumines the room with sparkled effervescence,
writhing deep into the blue sky destinations,
azure visions of springtime promises kept
and green grass wanderings

I rise with you, fall with you…with this perfect time,  
mirroring movements in reflective crescendos, rapidly,
as your voice sings my name, feathered pillow melodies,
ending in an ovation in hummingbird quivers

And you collapse, tethered breaths, tiny giggles
pulling the sheets tight to your chin playfully
I peer up, cinnamon eyes gleam, twinkle
*rejoicing as brand new day begins…in love
Use your imagination.  :)
Sorry, it's a little long but once I started it was hard to stop
According to Cecil
I'm such a ****
More than slightly psychotic
Borderline *****

Cause I'm such a liar
Turn your back for a second
And I'll burn you like fire

Yeah cause according to Cecil
I'm just so rude
I'll dampen the mood
With my antisocial attitude

Don't touch me, I bite
Always looking for a fight
So don't get caught in my sight

Yeah cause according to Cecil
I ruin the art of writing
My works just not exciting
So terrible, that its frightening

Just so arrogant
Not a true artist, its apparent
Not to mention I've got no talent

Yeah  cause according to Cecil
I'm just not nice
As annoying as head lice
Cold as ice

I've got no friends,  can't you see
Cause there's so much wrong with me

And if you can see it all after only knowing me for an hour
Then it must all be true
More power to you
My 'friend' Cecil Miller.
Inspired by Cecil Miller and According To You by Orianthi
Ps I have nothing against Cecil, and I don't care how much hate I get for posting this. Anyone who wants to know the full story, need only ask.

Cecil Miller said:
"True enough. What do you do that is fan worthy? How many gigs do you play? Where might one be made a fan of whatever your talent may be? Forget it. You are too arrogant. If I could unfollow you, I would. Humility is with sincerity. You are not a true artist. You actually are pretty shallow. Now your poems, because a few of them were good...would just remind me of how rude you are. I am pleased you will not be writing, so I do not have to be reminded of how inconsiderate you are. You are the first person I am blocking. People like you would ruin the artistry of writing. I want no part of it."

Ps He actually didn't block me, I blocked him. Also **** it I'm meant to be taking a break.
Soft skin,
creamy and
glistening,
wet and ready.
Now there
is the stuff
of dreams.

  ~mce
Take that Shakespeare!
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