Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
We are a tangle of multicolored parts
A human rainbow

Your clear blue eyes
Exploring the shape of my soft body

My deep violet veins
Pulsing with desire

Your caramel-colored freckles
Mark every inch of your trembling self

My pale pink *******
Are silk beneath your fingertips

Your rusty copper hair
Damp with the salty sweat of *******

My sharp black nails
Carve shallow lines in your flesh

Our warm red lips
Melting in a fiery kiss
 Jul 2014 Xander King
Shanijua
She's come to terms of what she is. A *****.
Not in the sense of sleeping with an abundance
Of men, no I should explain..
Once she was asked try marijuana but said, 'no I prefer *******'
Then preceded to light a cigarette.  
Her mom told her not to be peer pressured by her friends and that
No is a complete sentence. They asked her to have a beer
But her answer was 'no, I already had a glass of ***** before I came'
Whilst she opened up a wine cooler.
'If you aren't ready, I won't make you.'
Said the nineteen year old guy she was in
Bed with. He had no protection but she
Unbuttoned her shirt, proceeding to ******
Him. This boy.. He wasn't her boyfriend, he was five
Years older than her. But surely that wasn't the problem-
Her girlfriend was waiting in the car. That doesn't
Make her a *****. This was the first time she's ever
Slept with anyone...

A ***** corrupts the world around her whether she knows it
Or not.. Her life is a game; played with the highest of stakes.
First she will corrupt her mind.. Her body.. Her social life.
But it's okay, she says. No one cares about a *****.
I was listening to Ode to Sleep and a line in the song inspired me to write this.
With the sweat of groin
and aching head, I conquered.
An arching back like lightning struck
My head grows cloudy as we ****.

Muted palettes of rage and passion
fused *** and sin, wet kisses from below.
Your eyes stare into mine, looking for stars.
And I gaze down like god in your galaxy at scars
left behind by this jagged love of ours.

In these moments, it's never been so clear
that the quality of your *** is a chain leash
Tight around my neck, and choking
Electrified stimulation, you force me to keep poking
|
But you love me like a dog in a cage
imprisoned and belittled
You've got me as worse than a child
Just a brazen creature to be reviled
                       * * *
You love the ***, but you chase away the wild.
read between the sloppy lines
of drunk texts and high poems
scrawled upon pages of telephone books
in black bold letters, black slippery ink

i remember the days when you were mine
loved the ***, loved the roses
all your side-long glances and pretty looks
but without you i have gotten better,
in deaths quick sands i no longer sink

i miss you, honey,
but we'll never love again
when pages turn and our story ends,
read between the lines of my drunk texts,
and you will find me.
this telephone book has sat by my side for weeks now
torn pages and notes scrawled along the sides
empty cigarette butts and empty bottles.
 Jul 2014 Xander King
ASB
I wrote a love letter to literature.

It is the only thing I have
believed in.
 Jul 2014 Xander King
rachel
NO BUT PLEASE, TELL ME WHAT I’M SUPPOSED TO DO WHEN THE PERSON I LOVE TELLS ME THAT THEY DON’T THINK THEY’RE GOOD ENOUGH AND THAT THEIR LAUGH IS ANNOYING AND THAT THEIR GRIN IS CROOKED, WHEN IN FACT IT’S THE BEST SOUND I’VE HEARD AND THE MOST BEAUTIFUL SMILE I’VE SEEN.
HOW DO I MAKE THEM SEE THEMSELVES AS I DO AND HOW ON EARTH DO I MAKE THEM REALISE THAT THEIR EYES ARE THE COLOUR OF FORESTS AND ADVENTURE AND NOT SIMPLY ‘GREEN’.
HOW DO I GET YOU TO UNDERSTAND THAT I’M NOT GOING TO GET ‘BORED’ OF YOUR BABBLING AND THAT THE RANDOM QUESTONS THAT YOU COME OUT WITH AND THE STREAM OF SILLY FACTS ARE THE HIGHLIGHT OF MY DAY AND NOTHING CLOSE TO AN IRRITATION.
HOW CAN I PERSUADE YOU THAT IT’S NOT FAIR THAT YOU’RE ALLOWED TO TRY TO CONVINCE ME THAT I’M BEAUTIFUL, BUT ALL OF THE COMPLIMENTS I GIVE ARE SUPPOSEDLY NAUGHT BUT LOVELY WHITE LIES.
(HOW HOW HOW HOW HOW)
-
I could give you this ‘poem’ to try and explain exactly how I feel, but I’m sure you’d only end up telling me how ‘wonderful’ (or some other kind adjective) it is instead of discussing the fact that it sings your praises in block capitals and sentences so long you run out of breath. Because you’re like that. You’d rather see the good in everyone else and ignore all of that which lies in you. You’d rather put yourself down with a smile than realise the truth, and that is that YOU. ARE. DIVINE.
answers would be appreciated if you have them. thank you.
 Jul 2014 Xander King
rachel
I'm back again to write you another letter because my tongue continues to flounder as I attempt to tell you how wonderful you are and what you mean to me. It seems that words fail me when I need them most and I can only put them in a logical order to form sentences when I have a pen and paper in my hand and the moment is long gone.
You once told me that you had 'nothing to be vain about' and I swear to God, when I got home I wrote a two page long list of all the things you have to be vain about (but for some unfathomable reason aren't whatsoever.)
And the thing is, you say my name as though it's a precious thing and not merely a collection of syllables and a combination of letters. I know I probably don't deserve it but I can't convince you otherwise because you continue to see me through that **** rose tinted glass.
Despite all this and the fact that my name may be an antonym of yours, it doesn't stop me from loving you and loving you more.
Next page