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Nylee Oct 29
in the winters,
the marble floors
they feel cold
my bare feet
they are frozen
i cannot move
they are stuck.

in these twenties,
the only warmth
fabric of cardigan
I pull these
sleeves till seems
cover my fingers
touch the knitted
threads to feel
beyond the numbness
of my palm.

the cool sensation
touching my face
the melancholic air
disturbing my stare
tree without leaves
the somber look
the bone chilling
stare back from
a girl sitting
on the marble
floor by the
mirror looking dead.
Isabella Oct 10
3 years
A hundred tears
A thousand fears

3 months
No hugs
No love

3 is your name
3 is my pain
3 is your face
3 is the change
Nat Lipstadt Dec 2013
there is not a sexist bone in my body.
not a one.

there is not a bone
in my body entire,
that it's marrow,
but just tinged,
more singed,
nay, more, more,
burnt and burning
****** desire.

****** desire is a concerto
of the
five sense organs:
vision, hearing, smell, taste, and touch.

my body performs Halley's Fifth.
my woman listens carefully.
"She had never heard that symphony before, but she knew that it was written by Richard Halley. She recognized the violence and the magnificent intensity. She recognize the style of the theme; it was a clear, complex melody--at a time when no one wrote melody any longer."
- Atlas Shrugged, Part I, Chapter I
Written on the bus home, just now, that being sort of an apology.
First of a series of three; look for 2 x 3, and, 3 x 3.
Shrika Apr 21
Silky- smooth,
Velvety words,
Envelop me,
Until I'm cosy, and warm,
Illusion of a haven-
Vulnerable, unguarded,
Obscured under my trust-
Or should I say?
Stab me,
And Again,
Life's draining out of me.
Why did you do this ?
Lance Jun 16
3 Sentences
3 things I wanted to hear
3 things and Ill never feel despair

"I am proud of you"
"You were never a disappointment"
"You made us happy"

That's all I wanted to hear
For me to be able to bear
And live without fear

And yet
I lost a bet
And gave up the hope

You were never proud
You were a disappointment
and never made us happy

Was all I heard..
Family was always the choice of topic for me.. It brought out a lot of things I need to remove from my memory and one of the things that constantly reminds me of them is this.. They were never appreciative of the efforts thats why I decided to cut them out.
August Jun 6
what is written
is not what is true

what is said
is not what is meant

what is thought
is not what is wondered

what is built
is not what will remain
onlylovepoetry Oct 2017
3 hands

kidding hands,
an autocorrection title,
was supposed to be
kissing hands but either works

man overcome with an elixir of Sunday bed warming/charming/chilling, lukewarm "hot" coffee,
melodious love songs inducing
languorously hand-to-mouth,
five finger fore play love making

a potpourri of knuckle gnawing and gentling kisses
upon a hand borrowed from the a tablet holder,
while she reads the paper bemoaning the sorry state
of the world, the government permissions bad guys...
and weeps for the world we are leaving behind

a mood changer with 100% effectiveness

newspapers- a safe *** condiment

think I'll reheat my coffee


my hand

she cant sleep knows that I'm up at 2:08am composing.  
and showed her earlier today
the kidding hands poem
just as the lights were going down, downtown on
William's Measure For Measure

so at 2:09am her hand snakes over and wrap itself
around my thumb as if she was weaning an infant from
what infants like doing, or weaning grownup old men like me from doing at 2:09am, what they should be best leaving alone,
like writing poetry or it could just be the woman
pseudo-******* a poets thumb as a way of saying
can't sleep head buzzing and in between I love the
livening lying of living with your hands thumb in me

the facement of your hands*

dr. mandy is handy with a needling drink of boo boo bo-toxin
that auto corrects the face's reflecting times drawing upon it,
our bodies facement; an effacement I suppose, or maybe a

very little to be done to keep the *hands
couture covering
from revealing what devolutionary year it is for you: why I write of the facement of your hands and why I kiss them, your hands,
lovingly, hoping the natural  toxins on my lips can ****** their aging,
and if they can't, then it is a great way of saying
I love you

mutant Mar 18
Learn new ways to cope
Give the people some ****** hope
My phone is Jeff’s phone
Everyone leave me alone
I am a master at disaster and awful at poetry  Biwitch
Amaryllis Feb 15
You warned me not to love you,
That you just weren’t worth my time,
But your flaws are only fatal,
Because I’d **** to make them mine.
Late valentine’s poem...
Hope you enjoy.
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