Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Ash Mar 2019
You taste the lips of a hundred fragmented men.
Boasting that your divine secularity exalts you a writer of better poetry.
The cries of 12 men are more artistic than the drabness of one.
You forgot to peek in to the kaleidoscope of every angle.
A ravaging between your thighs signals the only sense you have awakened.
It’s bellow so great it drowns out the miraculousness of every other sensation. Stuffing love’s nomothetic void with the resound of the broken cultured man.
Your prowess is not poetry, but the neglect of it.
Your myriad of lovers elicit the lack thereof.
Are you a tormented poet or is this simply a masquerade of whorery?
You drape the silk sheen around your shoulders and dial up the only poetry you have ever come to know.
lynnia hans Mar 2018
your licentious pouty lips
your gorgeous flowing ebony hair
the dimples that are carved into that alabaster skin with your beauty marks just at the corner of your left cheek splayed in a intricate row
makes my spirit soar & heart sing
those brimming fluctuating hazel brown eyes everchanging like gorgeous phases of mother nature
your droning melodic voice that sparks command and attention of divine carnal pleasures secretly hidden in your soul
Conor Neuhaus Oct 2014
My chest constricts
I cannot breathe
I knew the risks
You said you'd leave

But hope latched on
Only now it's fear
It's consumed my life
Every minute's a year

It feels like there's a hole
Where my heart used to be
I sit in the cold
Just waiting to freeze

But the only things frozen
Are the tears on my face
And my love, in its tracks
I simply can't keep pace

In this life without you
The pain is too much
All I crave is your kiss
Or your gentle touch

Gone with a bang
Chips fell where they may
Now the pieces are ground
It's been only two days

I can't fight this feeling
I've got to let go
If I don't do it now
I'm going to explode

And hurt someone else
I can't handle that ****
Another person get harmed?
Cause I'm too stupid,

To control my emotions?
No I'll bid you farewell
The towel is thrown in
En route - Highway to Hell
Sometimes kids, life is ****.
The rest of the time it's worse.

— The End —