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hazem al jaber Jul 2021
Your breast ...

is this a breast , Madam ...
or it is a cluster ...
from a bunch of grapes ...
flowing with longing ...
to a mouth ...
that exhausted by thirst ...
longs to it's honey ...
as a bee always longs ...
to get refresh ...
inside the soul ...
from the cluster ...
of this breast ...
your breast sweetheart ...

then she said ...
yes it is ...
it's yours ...
this breast ...
it's a sweet one ...
as an apple swollen ...
drown with beautiful image ...
inside it for you ...
a tasty sweet charm wine ...
for no one created ...
created just for you ...
to enjoy this breast of mine ...

then she said again ...
come for me ...
come to my sweet breast ...
get whatever you pleased ...
from it's wine ...
with a beautiful kisses ...
until you get drunk ...
of my tasty wine ...
and keep all the night do ...
with a lot of kisses ...

it's yours ...
those ******* ...
keep me enjoying ...
your kisses ...

hazem al ...
Man Mar 2021
we love
but why do we?

how much easier it would be
only to satiate the needs
forgetting the foolish notions
of something more
the drug induced states
merely staring into your eyes
brings on
brings me
to the brink of sanity
because this tired duet
cries to die
but i can't bring myself to do it
knowing if i cut out your heart
they'll be no beat beneath my breast
you'll have come with one
but you'll be taking two
when you take your scalpel
to my chest
Alexandra Eames Sep 2020 head back into the pillow.
She quickly straddled me.
She began a gentle rocking motion
with her hips,
with subtle glee.
Her thick, precious long hair,
hung down like curtains of night,
around my lust-flushed face,
until I was in perfect darkness right.
She then began caressing
my nakedness with her feathery-locks,
along my silky, trembling body,
from up my heavenly hips,
my tight, tender, heaving tummy,
my aching, stiff-nippled *******,
my entire being erupting in goosebumps,
chilly and blazing,
spicey and tasty,
aching and burning,
burning -******!
begging for quenching,
which she does
I'm done.
South City Lady Aug 2020
I wait alone
wrapped in paper
shivering amidst cold
the door pressed hard
against my chest

this time a year ago
I met a similar fate
the verdict returned
a word my mind
has deconstructed
as my past

tears erupt behind
my eyes
how can I afford
to fight again
at what cost
and during
a pandemic

the door **** twists
as she emerges
eyes averted
my throat scored
in pain
"It's benign,
come back
6 months from now"

unable to move
I peer through haze
minutes tease silence
then with
trembling fingers
I dial his number
Aiden answers
    "Mom, you okay?"
nodding tearfully
with newfound certainty
I finally whisper, "Yes!"
This time last year, I was undergoing surgery for breast cancer. The year of recovery was difficult.  The tests came back with more unknowns. I waited 6 months to learn at last I'm one year cancer free. Each year will get easier, but for now, I am a survivor. 💕
Alexandra Eames Aug 2020
you know exactly what you
are doing
to me
every day, of every week,
us at work
knowing so little of each other,
you tease
me with the breezily
of your billowy blouse,
by your sweet, soft-sleek
against my arm or shoulder or back,
against me
-knowing that you do this
just to see me
just to laugh it off
in passing
as my stiff *******
belie my casual, response
my hard to stifle sigh
when you

-By Alexandra Eames
Jack Harrell Jul 2020
My sunglasses twinkle
While they lay on your breast
I say “Go mingle”
You say “I’ll do my best”

We’ve been doing alright
We’re getting by
It’s been what, a week now?
Since either of us has cried

“Time to go” keys jingle
Crunching through the snow
It sounds like stale Pringles
“Why’d we have to go?”

“Why were we there at all?”
“I don’t know? Welfare call?”
“I just want to go to sleep”
“Our blankets run deep”

Keys jingle “Back. Finally.”
One slow upstairs trod

Above my door frame
A white board hangs on a rod

9 \ Days since last breakdown

“Scratch that”

I wrote this a while ago when I was a different person. May it bring you solace should you need it or a reflection upon your past self.
Things be somehow
As I be man,
I dey try make I no bow
To pressure around town.
I no wan too think am
I no wan too show am.

Man dey try
Make man no cry.
To the world I sleek
Between you and me, I weak.

Come give me breast
Make I **** first,
Make I recharge my joy,
Treat me like a little boy.

I don sick
And na you be my medicine.

- @Olladave
Carlo C Gomez Nov 2019
Victoria has a secret,
and now it's high time
to get this off her chest:
for what seems an eternity
she's endured them.

Far from supporting or uplifting,
instead they get under her skin.
If she lets them slide on the job,
it only makes for awkward
adjustments later.

Still, they used to adore her,
now they're a form of torture.
True, they were never an exact fit,
but sometimes they worked wonders.

Now, they make subtle digs at first,
but by day's end
they've always left their mark.
It's said to keep one's friends close
but one's enemies even closer,
and that's no stretch.

Maybe it's time to string 'em up and free the ******!
Masuda Khan Juti Nov 2019
rolling drop of sweat
slowly slowly drops.
From the bottom of your breast
aiming straight it falls
On your thigh it tries to rest - but ah
--- it's a sticky plummet.
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