Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Every time I feel myself falling, I try to grab onto you.
Slipping my arm through yours, hand locking around your waist.
Broadcasting your warmth from every pore - I relent, knots unwinding
for that second before you steel up tall, lock your chin, and frown.
Then you shake me loose. I can see on your face that you don’t want to push me away
Which is why you’re not. You’re shaking me over the centre of the earth
But it is my gravity that will claw me down and **** me.

This is your epicentre. The point where all your earthquakes start:
You did not push me down the whole. You merely shook me loose over it. Differentiation.
Hey so lately I've been struggling a lot with my partner. We don't go to bed together anymore. Anyone who reads my poetry (so no one) will realise that perhaps it hasn't been good for a while. Last night he came to bed at 07.30am - we hadn't even been out. This is not the life I look forward to.
Laura Aug 2018
It's weird to have friends who are *****
You know they're not good people
But they're your friends
Your best friends
And they're not really cunty towards you
They're actually really nice
And they make you laugh
But there's this thing in the back of your mind
That wonders
Constantly, almost
If they're talking about you
If they're being cunty towards you
Behind your back
Because even though they are your friends
They're nothing more than *****
Who only really know how to be *****
Not friends
zebra Aug 2018
the first time i saw a ****
i didn't know she was my sweetheart,

and i didn't understand her
not like feet or arms
which i understood immediately

but **** grew on me
like ivy over bricks
in time **** ate my mind
and i was haunted by her
perfume

then i suffered
a severe case of **** on the brain
of which there is no cure but death
unless of course
there are ***** in the afterlife

the ****

such a tender
slit that oozes love like gelatin
a veiled curving vulnerability
it's secret poorly hidden
for easy discovery

but still,
i didn't understand women
the holders of this sacred chalice
until the great epiphany
and i realized
that the woman's heart is a **** too
a silky slit
the marrow of her soul
waiting to be opened and brimming
(alternate title – A bona
er fide dog day afternoon delight).

A mere half dozen vowels
constitute the English language
    Ta-ra-ra Boom-de-ay
Consonants comprise majority
  
(sans remaining twenty)
     Ta Deum, whereby both
     in tandem allow, enable and provide
     avast combination

    donning brooks at bay
ample lettered permutations
offer opportunities, where methinks
mother tongue avails

     allows, enables and provides thyself
tubby spell as sigh arrange
     passions linkedin to create, evoke
and generate plenti

     of romantic expressions to convey
an amorous, bedazzling conception
describing ******, graphic,
     and iconic ****** propensities
  
this cobbler, dabbler,
     and fiddler (no,
     not on the roof) doth display
his penchant, lament bent infatuation

     with these twenty-six symbols
     that **** hen ewe to evolve,
     and breed vernacular words
     to reflect from an eBay

definitions apropos
     to the present, which
Uber state farm quixotic oeuvre,
and matchless kindling

     ******* serves as foreplay
for this heterosexual ma reed male
     caressing, finessing, and integrating
expressions of speech

     oft times spurs
     (what might seem as noun sense),
I ponder the peccadilloes
     being sixty nine shades of gray

yet quickly reroute
     ****** predilections
     albeit rolling in the hay
whence this dis straw t fellow
  
conjures affinity,
     comity and excitability
latent within the consanguinity
of bossy verbs assaying boisterously
  
an interjection tubby
     top dog capstone amidst kennel
of barking canines couching
     with another similar subject
  
each with their body electric
nestled upon a davenport faux pas inlay
in conjunction with another
     furry four legged friend,

     the direct object
particularly eye ying a ***** in heat,
     who **** okay
to buffer end an un

     pro noun sub bull underdog species,
     who feels passé
with ****** faw paw play
though averse to insult

     shaggy scoobie doo,
whose bark a role overture
     willingly doth goad her to doggy paddle
while she woofs down remnants

     of a picnic tourists left littered
while Lady and the *****
     head toward the quay
Pier ring for private sloop

     to **** per ****,
     then prematurely ******* hoo ray
afore slyly cagily approaching
     bag of cheap tricks see
     ****** exploits today.
You took the **** from the current.
You wiped the floor with your wit.
You helped yourself to the hate on the shelf.
And now you're left stirring the ****.

You put the bad in the *****.
You took the **** out of me.
Your bitterness trait, your mouth spouting hate.
I'm done with you, now let me be.

You **** the life from the living.
You should just walk to the door.
Exit stage right, with your hypocrite *****.
Your company needed no more.

So glad I got that off my chest now.
New chapter, we're clear, no more stress now.
So beat it - retreat, turn sour into sweet.
Our future no longer depressed now.
I don't know who or what this is about, other than tedium.
It's people like you that make me feel sick
You feed people lies just to get your **** licked
You confuse me you use me you leave me for dead
I can't stand it this hate that I feel for the man in my bed.
Poem posted Dec 2017
there once was a girl who fooled many. she had a seductress picture that told a 40 pound lie. but they all drooled because things became desperate and men developed fake accounts to give her credit.

people of such ilk say it best in some mercurial fashion. the ****** brats on the playground who thought they knew it best. she thinks she so smart because she read fillossophee, but little does she know she's just fails comparably.

this bulging lie continues but she'll post that old photo and her adrenals will continue to bellow like a chimney. she's a lie who preaches to the boring. groucho marx loves her the most as her inspiration display with eyebrows as the host.

she keeps coloring them in and coloring them in and soon the false, fat eyebrows with fly away like an american butterfly suffering for obesity that support her dying dream for fame.

she hides behind make-up because there is no inner beauty. never speaks of the heart and holds no baby. the love of a woman has fooled many men.  i, consoling those who fall for the weighty lie and the far off stare in their eyes. more than likely...******* insane.
why do ******* post such old photos of themselves to pull an audience? because they're fake and fat as ****....that's why! most people can't get their act together so they play pretend in videoland! ***** can't even hold an anxiety ridden cat properly. why? cos she's a ******* mess who shouldn't own an animal.
Next page