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Jon-Luc May 11
Our tongue-tied minds are
interlaced with the heat of the moment
Fill my mouth with your saliva and
be pleasured by the roiled and rolled ridges of my tongue.

Thoughts dripping through my teeth, Unable to speak them
As her warm breath burns gently into my skin
Her tongue dances between each thought

Hearts palpitating for the next sentence
Drowning in her saliva, choking on paragraphs
That have yet to be moisten by her
Soft voice.  

Tell me you love me
David Hutton Dec 2018
It has been there for days, wasting away.
Bugs are summoned by the smell of decay.
Furry growth in a moist state,
Flies regurgitate.
Buzz, buzz, buzz all over the Charolais.
Poetic T May 2018
Let me flick your bean
              Till you grow peas
                             Of ecstacy.
And I swallow everyone
                                 Moistly.
Samantha Feb 2018
I have some pretty unpopular opinions.

Acts of stringing string cheese have always seemed so wrong!
Maybe people say I'm strange because I like some songs.

And that's just the beginning...

Being human, so many think that microwaves pose danger.
I can't imagine why you'd think that radiation's any stranger.
Getting some exposure is sure to not endanger!

Word for wet: "moist?" I don't exactly hate it.
Everyone seems to, though, so I don't bother to debate it.
I don't think that sidewalks are dangerous if they're cracked.
Right! That's not an opinion, it's a cold hard fact.
Definitely, it's a hazard to leave vaccines ignored.
Oops, some disagree! Time to give Darwin Awards.
Can you find the secret sentence? My last three poems should give a hint!
Poetic T Dec 2017
That carrot, what could be said a little girl gave her,
                    Well we wondered why an anatomically
Correct Miss Snow lady had such an amicable smile.

Her nose always seemed to descend to below,
                         She had a friend but his carrot was as
Limp as could be, it wasn’t his fault it’s the cold you see…

But never fear, where there is ingenuity there is away…
                 In their morning Miss Snow seemed to ice up below,
But she seemed to have a rather defrosted glow…

For when it was time for this artificial carrot to wind down,
              She evaporated in pleasure but Mr Snowman was still there
***** but no place to go. Poor Mr Snowman,
                                                          we'll blame it on the cold…
Poetic T Sep 2017
Never could they gently part,
always forcefully, but the gentle
touch was needed you would find.

It was the gem sitting in-between,
soft, delicately waiting for the touch.
But for some it was to hard to locate.

Precious was the this gem between,
for those who could feel its moistness
knew they had found the jewel in-between.
Raghu Menon Apr 2017
Its a  beautiful day
Wet and cool and moist day
it was just a dream!
It is too hot, but I wished it is a rainy day!!
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