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 Feb 2018
Cné
If I could have you for a night
I’d stop the dawn from bringing light
I’d make the stars stay out and play
And make the moon hold back the day

If I could have you in my arms
I’d unleash my southern charms
I’d unlock every fantasy
And be all that you want of me

If I could have you in my bed
With sweet seduction you’d be fed
I’d give you treats and pleasured sighs
And let you taste of sugared thighs

I’d make you glutton of this feast
Your every whim would be released
I’d let you do just what you will
And let your body ******* thrill

I’d bind you up, and make you crave
And tease your sights and make you slave
Then I would let you conquer me
And stake your claim of victory

I’d bathe your body, lick you dry
In covered dreams I’d let you lie
Then gently I would make you wake
My hungry love to satiate

I’d dance before you, undulate
You’d reach for me, I’d hesitate
I’d belly dance before your eyes
Your harem girl, in veiled disguise

My sultan, I’d be bound to do
just everything you’d want me to
I’d let you take me one more time
In candle light, you'd be just mine

Each moment tasting of divine
My every kiss dipped in sublime
My every touch would bring delight
If I had you for just one night
 Jan 2018
woelita
****. I’ve come undone in your arms. under your sweet breath. my back arches and i submit to each one of my little deaths. my thighs hold little worlds in them and you were born a voyageur, a vagabond. Feed to me my little deaths; these forbidden ecstasies. each one finding its way back into you, into you. and out again. This is where it ends, isn’t it?
 Jan 2018
Edward Coles
I don’t play chess with love.
There is no strategy, no foresight,
No due process; only a knot in the gut
Which prevents all action
That does not result in your touch.

I don’t chase after love.
I lie in wait, in unfamiliar places,
Abandoned mines and filthy drunk tanks-
Watch morning break through the cloud
With stupid hope there are no more false dawns.

I don’t bear false witness to love.
I tie a ribbon to the loaded gun
And hand it over to the woman
Holding a scalpel with a smile
And earnest for my confession.

I don’t want to do this anymore.
My heavy limbs, lack of light.
Waking up to Ground Zero
And sleeping with a lie of chemicals .
I don’t want to forget how to love.

I don’t think the choice is mine.
C
 Jan 2018
Lora Lee
There is a storm
gathering in
            my womb
soon to explode
into a thousand
crimson stars
lighting up
my veins with fire
and unraveling
deep-set,
          knotted scars
and the gentle rage
outside my window
presses on, inside my head
as I lie here,
my thoughts twisted
in a cozy, yet empty bed
my thoughts unfurl
in misty haze
           curl into
                      smoky
                 rouge
as nightsky thunder rolls
into creamed saxophone
                          deluge
the snare drum beats
in firelight
ripple sheets
in silky flutter
as my fingers strum
my womanly instruments
into loamy, primal butter
my voice in quiet utterance
as the heavens open
           to heavy rains
                    that liquefy
                           my desert
                 hydrate my
           bare-soul caves
so I electrify my echoes
into fruited, crystal drips
frothing up my
cherry wine
upon these moistened,
hungry lips
All these emotions move in waves
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v6TP-M3dKcY
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