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Michael Hill Jun 2017
Calling my husband
speak to me a voice
blood moon arise
come out the void

Passion
intense feeling
are those your hands
or coldness going up the spine

Could you be stroking my neck
whispering to me
our final words
this over whelming sense of arousement

I know I only have one night to be with you
as long as my eyes are closed you can never leave
blood moon red sky at night
powers you dwell stopped my grief of the demise
Jennifer Weiss Jun 2017
Oh, dear one-
I write to you from this place,
this place that I don't love...
There are so many things I'm waiting for,
you being but one.
And I often trace the wait back to my character,
my heart, my impatience.
And I have learned this isn't correct.
This is just a guessing game.
An attempt to have all the answers-
Which you, more than anyone, will know some day.
I don't want all the answers.
I want to seek the one with the answers.
And lately I've been distracted.
I've been filled with doing things, watching things, wishing for things.
But it's better than before.
I do these things with God.
Not hide them from Him.
And I'm growing.
It's painful, but free.
And someday, you will get to see...
the beauty of grace
the power of transformation.
The kindness of God.
I cannot wait to be loved by you.
But first, I am still learning to be loved by Him.
And in the end, we'll merge those two loves into One...
as we are one.
What a gloriously sweet day that will be.
See you then.
Debbie Brindley May 2017
I wish
I wish
upon a star
That I could gather you
in my arms
and take you far

Far, far away
On a cloud made for two

A cloud
made especially for me
and for you

To whisk us away
from lands
filled with anguish and pain

To lands with no illness
Only good health and happiness again

To lands where together
we'd grow
old
and grey
As husband and wife
forever we'd stay
Wish we could float away on clouds
JAC Apr 2017
Waiting to see the love of my life
Home as a husband, in love with a wife
In a dream I can see it, she'll walk through the door
So I'm waiting to see the love of my life.

She'll be with child, and happy as me
We'll hear the news and shout happily
Find comfort inside a home of our own
For she'll be with child, and happy as me.

I'll be a good father, your mom loves you so
We'll show you love denied to us so
You'll grow up and be so much better than me
So I'll be a good father, your mom loves you so.

I'm waiting to see my love, my wife
We made it so far, we were good to this life
Our love has grown up now, with loves of their own
Now I'm waiting to see my love, my life.
AJ Apr 2017
I believed you were a painter. Your hands, your arms – they were meant to create art. They were meant to create beautiful masterpieces. I believe I am the empty canvas and you stroke me with harsh resentment. Now, I’m colourful. Are you happy now, painter? Are you happy that red paint trickled down the canvas, where you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, the canvas have feelings too? Are you happy that traces of violet paint smeared all throughout the once white and pure canvas?  Are you done with your masterpiece? Or is your masterpiece still not finished?
Genevieve Apr 2017
You ask why I wont
get intimate with you
and your confused why I am so cold
why I no longer want your touch
you physically have
hurt me and
emotionally too
With MS and Two babies
plus You,
Maybe this should inspire you
to help me without the yelling!!
To not kick me in my gut
or head.
To not choke me when your angry;
or call my babies mean things
maybe if you wanna touch me
and have *** with me
you should
get real
when your abusive
my thoughts are F U Go To Hell!!
This poem was inspired by my sisters husband Tim who is ****
of thee earth and I wish Emmy could get away but its a hairy situation. He often will wonder why she wont get near him but yet she does still satisfy at times (Blech) I wish for her a husband that will lift her up and not kick her while she's already been down for years with Ms and his lame self being cruel last 4yrs and now it is escalating!! I don't know what to do except be there when she calls on me.
Mitch Davis Apr 2017
Little can be said
About that dress stained blood red.
Him, evil--her, dead.
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