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I'm looking forward to the kisses that trace along my skin
lips kissing lips, tongue breaking skin
but then again, I could be getting a little to used to this whole celibacy thing
the idea that I have become one with myself, taking the time to get to know me again
but nothing could compare to what I have learned to conjure up deep within
the urges for affection
a good cuddle when it's all over
the arms of a man and his scent better than a blanket to cover
but the constant urges to touch
to feel
the need to be relieved of the stress
that need to have that loneliness healed
no worries about if I'm his one and only
if there is potential beyond today for love
just me, my thoughts, and perhaps a strong toy when it all becomes a bit too much
I can feel the fire deep inside
Burning words clean off the page
Screaming with fury yet unsaid
Ringing out slowly
Like a hellish belfry
Sing out to heaven
Hope to breath
All the while, Autumn leaves
All I can feel is bitterness at it's reprieve
So comes the winter,
A cold dark thing
For which may well **** me
The tags are void of meaning
One day, my son, you'll understand why not all trees grow.
 Oct 2014 elouazzani kenza
Momart
complete silence
everything is in.
no voice, sound, nothing,
take a listen..

white walls,
repeated shapes,
mainly squares,
inside them
an empty face.

and then another..

the day goes by,
then the next four
we wait,
anticipate

the little bit o' sunshine,
friday.
Her head bent down, a hole in her chest
unfulfilled by love that doesn't exist
her search seems to have no meaning
wanting so deeply to be hugged
to survive

She is flushed, eyes wet
teardrops roll her face
saving every one to soak her skin
so that she can shed them once again
she cries

Her hair draped around her face
she feels undesirable
unwanted and losing her reality
longs to be part of the one she searches for
she waits

Looking in the mirror she disbelieves
as the pitch black of night covers her guiding light
her search is unworthy of being the one of his dreams
she feels it doesn't matter
she climbs

Still dreaming, even with doubt, or with meaning
was it truth or falsity
wanting the dream to be real
as it fades into the clouds
to die

With head bent down
dreams gone
words that don't last
teas dried up
lost

No One Knows Her Name


Debbie Brooks 2014 @copywrite...
 Oct 2014 elouazzani kenza
bones
She's an alphabet artist
she paints in words,

from a palette of adjectives,
nouns and verbs,

the landscape she finds
in the folds of her mind

she exhibits in volumes of verse.
I drew a picture,
so simple and clean.

I drew on it canvas,
so ugly and mean.

I drew with it crayon
with red and black.

I drew it with anger
with a knife in my back.

I drew from my mind
and things that you hid.

I drew from inside
and hole that you dig.

I drew a picture,
thought it was cute.

I drew it on canvas,
thought I killed you.
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