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 May 2016 Sharina Saad
niamh
For tears that fall
On hollow cheeks
When the weeks feel like years
And the years feel like weeks.

And you sit by a grave
Where the roses grow
But the rose that you seek
Is buried below.

You have my heart
Heavy with sorrow
For the velvet rose
With no tomorrow.
Absolutely over the moon (if a little shocked) to see that this piece made the daily.  Thank you all so much for your comments - I promise to reply to you all individually at some point soon.  It was an extremely emotional, difficult, but ultimately cathartic write. Dedicated to our wee Shane, who we will never forget ***
my heart breaking
into a thousand pieces
i fade away
looking for a distant wall
to dissolve in
and evaporate

unable to vanish
i slowly gather the shards
ground fresh and smaller now
i gently blow them
and watch them magically disappear
into the night’s silver moon

©2016janetaylor
1.
This blue one is my favorite,
in the peak of ****** excitement
she calls me "Devil" between
sweet obscenities and tender bites
that lets me decide her species
a killer whale she is.
2.
I fell in love with this aspect
at the very first sight,
the easy buoyancy of the cuttle fish,
Ah! the delicate squid in my dreams
in her transforamtive  rigor of
peripatetic desire.Above me she hovers,
we are entangled with the strands of clouds.
In the soft poetic squid folds,
my desires find  discharge.
3.
Octopus, oh my perfect metaphor for desire,
are you strictly a fish by definition, I muse
though a mollusc, who cares, as long as your
supple tendrils, know how to touch and arouse
allow pleasure to flow through eight ducts,
would take you as the equivalent of a bisexual yen
in your tight binding  and sucker amour,
under water I am the  slave for your pleasure,
bleeding amour in equal measure
on each embrace.
4.
Gold fish is a cliche, but is it  her fault?
when  frothing orange morning sun
seeps  in to her spacious glass cage
she is another rich kid, seeking pleasure
and when she sings with her wings
dreamily moves, a pendent of Gods she is
my longing see the  cliche, yet oh! such  *** appeal,
my tactile desire, is more alacritous than being tactical.
 May 2016 Sharina Saad
Ja
A sheet of white satin
Half covers her curves
Her back is exposed
And my passion stirs

The rising sun’s rays
Set her contours aglow
She’s sleeping half naked
And my urges grow

The arc of her back
Exposes her spine
Each dimple and ridge
Make her look divine

Her arm, raised above her
Entangled in hair
Displaying a breast
At her ******, I stare

This sheet of white satin
Clings to hip and to cheek
Beneath it the treasure
That I must now seek

She’s just laying there
Asleep, so sublime
My temperature’s rising
I hope she’ll be mine

The rise of her hip
Its treasure below
I’m burning inside
Its pleasures to know

That sheet of white satin
Drapes just her backside
I must get closer
So towards her I slide

I stretch out my arm
Such a tentative reach
So sad an attempt
To, that white satin breach

I entice the white satin
To slip from her cheek
Exposing her buttock
It’s the crevice I seek

I sense she is stirring
I’m frozen with fear
Close my eyes tight
So asleep to appear

When I open my eyes
Not a thing in my bed
Just a sheet of white satin
It was all in my head
BOEMS BY JA 442
 May 2016 Sharina Saad
Grimmest
I feel your comfort upon my skin,
And I bask in the light of your beauty.
The glow of spring is here again,
It is no longer dark and gloomy.

I watch the sunset blossom with warmth,
And I feel a sense of wonder.
The brilliant sun upon my face,
And my mind begins to ponder.

Why do I feel so empty inside,
With dreams so dim and foggy.
I see birds so free up in the sky,
And a chill spreads through my body.

The flowers are once again in bloom,
With scents that are alluring.
The feeling of dread remains unchanged,
I am alone and hurting.

I have a mask that hides my pain,
This smile of fake emotion.
I wish to fly away from here,
On a cloud above the ocean.
Through the stormy desert
Your thirst staggered for days,
And ends up sipping
Fresh experiences as consolation.
An ocean of memories inside heart
Constantly combusts like wild flames,
Yet seems so peaceful
Like the rough skin of an extinct volcano.
You believed in my words, that,
One can’t grow larger than sun,
Or be more skillful than Orion,
Weaving luminosity over
The edge of eastern horizon.
But one can be the daisy in a vase
Who dreams every night of blooming
Like a star, with shimmering aura,
Writing fates of humans,
As if she can pick them, pluck them now,
From life, whenever she wishes.
We are all like her,
Craving for a ****** dream to live with.
And in the mirror of life,
Trying to reflect it time after time.
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