Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Dec 2013 Ciara Sarah
Alyssa
The naked truth about men is that they are ferocious creatures of the night, constantly preying on the lonely and the weak in hopes that they'll get laid and maybe rip a few hearts out in the process. They believe that if they consistently make the muscles in your face turn towards the sky that they can finally make your undergarments fall to the ground. The can stick their claws into the holes of your vertebrae and rip out the nerves wiring from your neck to your tailbone in one foul swoop. They will sink their teeth into your flesh and only tear at it inch by inch because they know you will become numb to them soon enough if they tear you apart too fast. But if they take their time to shred you to pieces inch by inch, the pain becomes almost as worse as the anticipation.

The naked truth about men is that once they've seen you naked they think they own you; body and soul. They begin to taunt you with things like love and dinners just to see you naked again. However, you must comprehend that once they see you naked, a part of them dies inside because there is nothing left to explore. Everything leading up to your nakedness is just the chase of getting you naked. Once the act is accomplished there is nothing else to chase, nothing else to acquire. The truth is that you will eventually become an old toy to the man that saw you naked. That man doesn't love you, he loves the sight of naked flesh against his own. That man doesn't love you, he loves the sound of tearing clothes. That man doesn't love you, he loves the taste of your soft skin in his mouth.

The naked truth about men is that this doesn't apply to every man, but a grand majority of them. The naked truth about men is that it is hard to figure out which man is a good one and which ones are there to throw you away in 4 months and 6 days. The naked truth about men is that only 1 out of 10 men look good naked. And the naked truth about men is that 10 out of 10 men will like you naked.
 Jul 2013 Ciara Sarah
Djs
he's back,
again..
here to haunt me,
once again.
he's back.
i can hear him!
footsteps:
running up my spine.
goosebumps:
masking away
his shadows.
making his way
up to my heart,
punching!
kicking!
till it rips apart.
shutting off my brain.
again,
unable to focus.
and he sits,
for a few minutes,
at the dark corners
of me.
laughing,
hysterically!
at how weak i am.
and without a pulse,
not even a signal,
he starts..
jumping!
and shaking!
and screaming!
whispering.
and he screams!
again.
and again.
and again!
pause!
silent, shaky pause.
pulling the trigger.
pushing the knife.
he'd done it,
again.
he'd won,
again.
i didn't fight,
again.
he wants me.
and i want to come,
with him.
so he can leave me.
alone..
and dead.

*-djs
Quick write; can't turn down a brilliant thought in the middle of the night.
 Jul 2013 Ciara Sarah
Olivia Kent
Passion fires,
Love inspires,
From in the pits of diamond mines,
Sparkling,
Showering awe inspired gems,
For all the world revealed,
Drifting in my fellow poets mind,
Love is true, but truly blind!
Bound in chains of love's disaster,
From here until the never after!
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
A free bird leaps on the back
Of the wind and floats downstream
Till the current ends and dips his wing
In the orange suns rays
And dares to claim the sky.

But a BIRD that stalks down his narrow cage
Can seldom see through his bars of rage
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
Of things unknown but longed for still
And his tune is heard on the distant hill for
The caged bird sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze
And the trade winds soft through
The sighing trees
And the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright
Lawn and he names the sky his own.

But a caged BIRD stands on the grave of dreams
His shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with
A fearful trill of things unknown
But longed for still and his
Tune is heard on the distant hill
For the caged bird sings of freedom.
Next page