Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
NettersuePoems
You liked to bite my juicy *** But froze when feelings came to pass. You wanted fun, not sacred flame Then called it taxing when truth came. You wanted bhakti in a thong, But ran when Shakti came on strong. You craved the muse, but not her scroll Preferred her parts, ignored her soul. I thought I’d met a man of thought— Turns out it’s *** you mostly sought. You bit my lip, then ran from light, Said ego death didn’t feel quite right. I sang Shakti, you played dead, Cried "too intense," left me on read. I reached for depth, you grabbed your shield Another wound now left unhealed. You ghosted once I dared to feel, Preferred a fantasy to what was real. You love all butts, so you have claimed, But backed your *** up when truth was named. A dopamine hit, a thrill, no heart, You lit the match, then killed the spark. You wanted heat, not where it led, Love asked for more—you ran instead. If cheeks and chuckles were the key, Would that have kept you close to me? No soul, no depth, just laughs and **** Would that have kept the door unshut? You found your calm in passive eyes No questions asked, no truth to rise. But when your soul begins to ache, Will silence satisfy the heart that wakes? So keep your red, your calm, your ease Your mind unbothered by degrees. But when you crave the fire you fled Who will dance inside your head? You called me deep, too much to stay— But I’d have lit you every day. You thought I’d burn and then grow tame But I don’t bore. I blaze. I flame. So here’s your bhakti—wild and rare But way "too much" for you to care. I saw your soul, I gave my heart, You wanted *** I gave you art.
0
Aug 23, 2025
Aug 23, 2025 at 12:55 PM UTC
On Butts and Bhakti
You liked to bite my juicy *** But froze when feelings came to pass. You wanted fun, not sacred flame Then called it taxing when truth came. You wanted bhakti in a thong, But ran when Shakti came on strong. You craved the muse, but not her scroll Preferred her parts, ignored her soul. I thought I’d met a man of thought— Turns out it’s *** you mostly sought. You bit my lip, then ran from light, Said ego death didn’t feel quite right. I sang Shakti, you played dead, Cried "too intense," left me on read. I reached for depth, you grabbed your shield Another wound now left unhealed. You ghosted once I dared to feel, Preferred a fantasy to what was real. You love all butts, so you have claimed, But backed your *** up when truth was named. A dopamine hit, a thrill, no heart, You lit the match, then killed the spark. You wanted heat, not where it led, Love asked for more—you ran instead. If cheeks and chuckles were the key, Would that have kept you close to me? No soul, no depth, just laughs and **** Would that have kept the door unshut? You found your calm in passive eyes No questions asked, no truth to rise. But when your soul begins to ache, Will silence satisfy the heart that wakes? So keep your red, your calm, your ease Your mind unbothered by degrees. But when you crave the fire you fled Who will dance inside your head? You called me deep, too much to stay— But I’d have lit you every day. You thought I’d burn and then grow tame But I don’t bore. I blaze. I flame. So here’s your bhakti—wild and rare But way "too much" for you to care. I saw your soul, I gave my heart, You wanted *** I gave you art.
A poem written for a Bengali ghost to whom I opened my heart (and maybe also my root chakra)
Nettersue
Written by
Nettersue
Aug 23, 2025
Aug 23, 2025 at 12:55 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem