I gave you everything that you asked for and more
and b!!!!, look what you’ve done!
You well know what I got can’t be bought at a store
and b!!!!, you are a joke!

You wash your hands for letting me go,
well there's a place you can also go.
It’s a place where you belong,
but it’s a surprise what I have in store.

After I taught you all the things you now know,
b!!!!, look what you’ve done!
You saw my magic trick and wanted to claim it as your own.
B!!!!, you are a joke.

Before I let you take it all
and leave me here with nothing at all,
get on your knees while I bend down
and kiss my a!! you filthy whore.

Kiss it stupid, kiss it nasty.
It’s not sacred and immaculate.
You’re so dirty you might like it.
Consider this a blessing, you so well deserve it.
Kiss it stupid, kiss it nasty.
Don’t it taste like your husband’s lips?
You’re so filthy you might like it.
Don’t it taste like your lover’s lips?
Written on April 21, 2015
Composition number: 510
Nazanin May 10
I can't wait till the end of the day
When daddy's home and we get to play!
cigarette smoke clogs her arteries
twelve packs a week
bleeding teeth and nails dawdle in her broken hallucinations
the cloud of harsh chemicals mask the iron in dust
it coats her tongue and hands and feet
the minerals latch onto the crevasses of her flesh
refusing to relinquish their rightful territory
she knows all of this
all it took was ages in a bathtub
overcome with mildew
for their stubborn tendencies to become evident
she's since abandoned attempting to scrub the brine away
Faithy Apr 28
I’ve been chain smoking the night away, and choking on clean air
I’ve been wondering who I am and how I got here
I’ve been acting a bit anxious and seeming a bit sad, but truth is I’m unhappy and even a little mad. 
I want to start over and forget everything I knew, but somehow my head will never forget you.
I’ve been looking at the clouds and watching the sunset, 
I’ve been hoarding empty boxes of all these cigarettes.
I’ve been looking for new things to discover and to do, but some how everything goes back to you.
Water stains.
Scratches.
Cracks.
All in the bathroom mirror,
Or is it me?
Do I have the water stains, scratches and cracks?
Is the mirror showing my soul?

                           With love,
                                    Anonymous
fluffel Apr 6
Just cum for me 
Release all your energy 
Just focus on now 
Feel my tong go round 
Your beautiful clit 
Feel my suck on her 
Bite your lip   
Enjoying my every touch with a purr 
 Arms wrapped around your thighs, 
This will be my demise 
Your taste I crave 
With every breath, I must chase 
The idea away 
Of having you stay 
With me, here 
For our futures, they fear 
We are addicted in fact  
To each other, not the act 
A bonus to our presents 
Is knowing each others talents 
They fear, we will stay near 
To our roots, but we know we must go 
To the unknown 
The world beckons 
To go far and wide, we must learn lessons 
This area cannot offer 
 So we must go 
What will the journey behold?  
Will I find you again? 
Or will you find another man? 
I hope he’s cool calm and collected  
Can support you with through everything 
Treats you right 
 Not just at night 
but also in the day light.
mythie Apr 3
An angel cloaked in black.
A crystalised sinner.

But I watch over a pure being.
Someone who can't be dirtied.
Not by filth or other humans.
A completely clean entity.

I wish for revenge against God.
The cruel God who abandoned me.
Who reinforced rules.
That only help him in the end.

So I combine my filthy soul.
With a clean vessel.
Me and the purity.
We become one.

A sinner cloaked in black.
A venomous angel.
about an oc of mine.
Shashank Apr 1
bikini eyelids flap to reveal big, beautiful lies,
soft mounds of sand washed by the rising tide.

the men touch and run their fingers through the warm gap;
like a river, their fingers flow along the charted map.

the places they'll go you won't believe until you see or smell,
all rivers reach the same sea eventually; they watch her ocean swell.
she sells seashells, but honestly her sex sells more well
because she's a tall glass of water when they're in burning hell.

she comes to their aid, but she requires to be paid...
oh well, they'll do anything just to get laid!

she stands with her feet wet on the seashore,
but wet sailors in the sea pass by and call her a dirty whore.

everything she did for them, they forget when they leave,
but who's got a dirty mouth with a cigarette under their sleeve?
Sam Bowden Mar 21
Pull me down.
Hold me c l o s e.
You're the one,
I want the m o s t.

Breathe in deep.
Pull your h a i r.
You wanna be here,
I wanna be t h e r e.

What's old is dust.
And today is n e w.
You remake me.
I'll remake y o u.

Suck and kiss,
and tongue and f u c k.
This is fate,
with a little l u c k.
Love poems are life.
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