Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Rae Anne Aug 2016
I cannot deny
That I want you
A simple taste
Of your mouth
Would torment me
The look on your face
When you get that slow smile
And your gradual laugh
Sends me spinning
In such a way
I dream of you.
Tamara Fraser Aug 2016
Nights of thinking alone,

gathering my proofs,

I’m still unsure you were real.


I loved the sweet caress of your voice,

the way your mouth shaped my name,

your eyes hovering lazily over mine.

I loved the soft touches and frenzied hands,

as you carried and explored me, explored together

in bed sheets and a summer night’s heat.


Balcony doors embraced the ocean with open arms

before us, the tingle of adventures together

left tickling my skin.

It was a night that brought so many gifts, so many

tender looks and sprawling affections

laying waste to the floor.


But it was a night left to my fantasy.

No videos, photographs, Facebook statuses

or afterwords of gratitude.

A night left as bundles of touches and

portions of tangled desire beautifully coiled like

ropes inside my head.


I need those proofs.

I need to know that love-nest even happened.

That it wasn’t some sickened dream I had,

whilst I cried in bed alone that it would soon

all end;

a frayed and ***** heap of pity left in place of you.

My heart would conjure anything to protect me from you.

My heart would drill holes in those fragments if it meant

lies from you, if it meant little pieces of love you could

hurt me with.


My heart is grateful for what you showed me,

the love you painted with me, for me, over me.

My heart is still in love with the times we shared,

the memories that glide around silkily in my sleep;

but my heart is also still frightened, of you.

And what power I gave you, over me, to make me

weep and search for evidence like this.

To finally know you loved me, or not.


Because that is what it needs doesn’t it?

Prove that it needs to, that it’s real.

Were you real beneath my fingers?
Samuels Jedidiah Aug 2016
I could write a million words about a failed family
Tons of poetry could be composed
Describing the hurt
Telling the challenges
Explaining life growing up in an environment where the enemy is your family

This however ain't that Poetry
It's me writting about a lovely childhood
The waves of bar beach
Parents laughter with love in their eyes
Esther scared of the horses and typically every animal or insect
The burial events we organised for our rats
Shifted responsibilities in the midnight hours
Dad always making my recipe for my daily bed-wetting

The journeys to new states
Mom's baking
Mom's absence
******* movies we had access to
Mom's presence being like Santa's coming
Many starvations

The candy i asked from Dad after 1yr of separation
Dad's smile weak and tainted by sad wrinkles
The wolves in sheep clothings
How they took advantage

Karma stricking; yeah it goes round
Loosing the family again
Brutality enforced by siblings
Hatred deeply enrooted

Life's too much of a *****
Try as you may:the worst memories are ever so glaring
Being oblivious to the obvious truth: thats the escape route

To hell with forgiveness
To hell with rising above
To hell with fantasies
My demons made me fabulous.
freeing the mind Jul 2016
I crave for your body,
pushed against my own,
your kisses down my neck,
the whispers in my ears,
the passion we create,
through our simple,solid actions,

I crave for your body,
hot,wild and ready,
resisting my temptations,
driving me insane,

I crave for your body,
Eager,willing and curious,
The night ahead our fantasies to be fulfilled

I crave for your body,
****, luscious and curvy,
One I only imagine,
my adventurous side to unwind with,

I crave for your body,
with mine all night,
loving and lusting,
bringing our deepest images to life.
slightly detailed apologies if I offend readers
Brent Kincaid Apr 2016
When I dream
I find myself in places
I never go to awake
Taking chances
I never take
For fear I will break
Or stumble.

So instead I grumble
That I never go anywhere
And let myself scare myself
Out of doing what I need
To do in order to be true
To the person I am
When I am awake.

I fully flimflam and take
The easy, the coward’s road.
I hop away like a toad
Then whine to myself
In my dreams.

It seems ineffective.
But it seems inelective.
It’s like I have no choice
But I still listen
To my sleeping voice.

Someday I may stop
And drop this bad habit,
Choosing to have it my way;
Me on the highway, walking
Instead of lying in bed talking
About how good it could be
If I were the dreaming me.
repressi0n Apr 2016
How sad it is to create a world of fantasies
that you know **** well wouldn't happen in real life
But somehow along building that dreamlike catastrophe
you see yourself slowly wandering in a world of bliss
in a world where you are the lead character
and every trees and every clouds are smiling at you
And you know **** well you'd never cry the way you do
no thoughts of quitting
unloving
hating
leaving
pain
it's all a loophole of sunrise
almost ending with a gorgeous sunset
and with you
hand in hand
is someone you badly wish
to be madly in love with you
Everyone deserves to be in a better situation. But sometimes, life is so complicated and difficult that we just settle to dreaming and creating fantasies. This piece is dedicated to a good friend.
Pea Mar 2016
the sun is out, babe
it's spread out on our bed sheets
the streaks of daybreak
blazed up on our skin

your freckled face in daylight
a burst of stardust around your eyes
i count them to make me feel alright
you look away to give up a fight

you lift your coffee mug to your lips
gulping down the morning brew
i leave kiss marks down your fingertips
and catch a whiff of fresh coffee, too
:)
Next page