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will19008 Jul 13
you know that I’m badly drawn
using words and lingerie for clothes
I'm shrapnel herself
a sharing other
a changing rapunzel
untwisting anything I use
stream me through empty people
by tenfold—and all ablaze back to you
Belinda May 13
She is the sunshine
Between the mountains

She is the calm
Before the storm

She is the cloud
On a rainy day

She is the dream
in your reality

She is
who she is

and not
everyone understands
first I smell myself.

the deep bass tonality of my musk,
hot, creamy, sweetness unique, of coffee and creamy,
my owned sweat oiled secretions massaged into her skin
emplaced by vigorous parts rubbing and tongue caressing,
under the fading shadows of my glancing, desirous admirings

then I smell herself.

sinking sunset glimpses of last nights parfume parfait,
scattered in random strategic locations architecturally planned,
some flavors come over me like modest waves,
others spelunking found in crevices, cracks and caves,
where humans tread in guileless search of guiltless pleasure

then I smell our sharings.

lemon and thyme, paprika, sea salt and pepper,
a basted rub laid upon animal skin consuming, and consumed,
the vinaigrette balsamic and California yellow raisins, pine nuts,
decorating leaves of red soil spinach and spicy arugula,
word salads, so miraculously ingenious, you swear off eating flesh

then I smell our combinations.

the air conditioned atmosphere that blends us properly chilled,
the olive oils pressed from two colored differing skins,
the mortal and pestle finely grinding our own fresh crumbled dirt,
appearing in places where dirt is wet panko crumbs encrusting us,
our combined liquidity, shaken and stirred, drying in martini tandem

it is 8:17am and this recipe of reciprocity,
at its most pungent peaking,
for soon raining waterfalls of potable city water
and the sophistry of French soap,
the pseudoscience of modern chemical shampoo,
together erasing, scrubbing away this poems aromatherapy tapestry,
your perplexed complexing nostrils will mock you once more,
for ever disbelieving, thinking you could no longer write of
only love poetry that crested high above the trite

Friday, March 29 2019
Aroma olp musk balsamic paprika sea salt ***** martini olp
I have reached that time In my life when I can smile when I write about my wife, and the wonderful life we  
Even though I know I cant
bring back, but so much of herself, she left behind
of the times and
the memories
Helen that I have, there are times when tears I let go, but I never now allow them to get me down, and
I hide my tear by acting a clown
Sometime I hide my tears by acting a clown, but I never now let the tears get me down
WhiteWolf101 Feb 27
She lies in bed at night
pondering life or death
the stars shine bright
as she takes her last breath
her mom walks in and cries
she thinks to herself
as her heart dies
then she looks on the shelf
there's a note it reads "MOM"
Mary Frances Oct 2018
Then he went back thinking there was
still something he could go back to.
But she shut her doors to him.
She was not being selfish.
She just wanted to save herself
from another pain.
She wanted to save her heart
from another sorrow.
And that was the moment
she felt free.
This is a continuation for What Happened that Night
Shadow Dragon May 2018
She had so much love to give.
Yet, no one wanted it.
So she forced herself
to act like she didn’t love.
Yusof Asnan May 2018
How could the
princess run from
the dragon,
When she's the
dragon herself.

your call was to
an deaf
have drown
your liquored
me here
your hollows
nighttime that swallows
your minds flesh
take off
****** forehead
my last love

Many years had passed; the woman still worries the loss of the man--
She's still blaming herself; and keeps carrying the pain.
Whatever she wants to forget; she still wondered what she could do and asked herself what is her plan?--
The damage has been done; but why still remain?

She keeps remembering the pain that she have done; she remembered that she's the only reason--
She's the reason why she lost her love; she's the reason why her loved ones were gone.
She's crying again; she's hurt and she thought that she had treason--
Many people told her that she need to forget it and it's not her fault for what had happened; but she still can't move on.
So this is the part two of reminiscence the past, i hope you like it.
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