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Thorns 22h
Don't you know how some of us feel sometimes?

Don't you know what some of us do to ourselves sometimes?

No, you don't know, nor would you care
Some of cut, cry, try to **** or all three and more to ourselves
But even if you knew you would just say aloud or flaws,
Criticize our looks,
Or beat us to the ground...

Because that's what the world thinks of people like me

They scoff in disgust of our loves and sexualities
They beat us till we suffer from LIVING
The one thing they WON'T do is,

E N D  O U R  S U F F E R I N G
"Just leave the goth chic in the back alone."
"I'm. Not. Goth."
   "Whatever you re your a FREAK! A ******!"
Then kicks me till I'm on the ground.

All because I just think dying is better, I like black,
and I sing MCR and Panic!

Like ***!
ts 1d
sprawled on the bed, laughing into the dark
with every beat, my heart lifts me off the sheets
the back of my skull is rotting from where you touched it
teeth still knocked out of place from where they melted with yours
Girard Tournesol Dec 2018
Her platinum blonde hair was a firm
     spunky Irish when she was a kid
And compelled me to wish for time travel
     as I have loved her since she's existed

She says she'll table dance if she wins
All for a package of crackers I'd have
    never kicked her out of bed for eating
Says if I'm lucky she'll pick Mardi Gras beads

I told her that from her wedding picture
     Veronica Lake had nothing on her
She said straight into my transparent heart:
     "I've had a good life"

. . .and I was lucky
> As published in The Pennsylvania Poet's Society magazine, PENNESSENCE
> As published in Dark Horse Appalachia
> Listen to me recite Joanne @ Bingo on DarkHorse7 BandCamp.
5daysoferos
First of its kind

Hello gorgeous,
That was the forewords that created our story.
A 5 foot tall, Slim, curvy body walked into my life
Like a glowing petal that needs to be tendered.
Your simplicity awakes a troubled heart.
To urge for a taste of your soul.

As days turned into month
Our familiarity exiled our strangeness
Our expression aligned with our thoughts
To seek the action concluded in our thoughts.

On that memorable day,
As my lips engaged your soft lips,
Your silentness was a turn off,
As I moved back,
you locked me to a wall
Like a fight,
you flawlessly won

As I gently kiss your neck, towards your ***
You moan with such tenderness for more
As my hand is feeling the tiniest spot on your skin.
you pulled me into you,
At that moment,
Our spirit became one

As we drill in the ecstasy of love
The air seem still
The Cold weather, warm on us
As our bodies emit droplet of pleasure
Although  
The ever wanting sound of more
Was silenced by  an unknown vibration
Which ended our play.

Feel free to make corrections. I'm new to kind.
Crystal June Feb 8
(Him)
Label me with love,
Bind and blind me with your love.
Unstable with your love,
I fall under your love.

Tell me who I am,
And I'll hold onto my secret.
You're a man in woman's land --
You'll never keep me, but I'll keep it.

.

(Her)
She sets the stars in evening light,
Plucks and places firelight.
Fingers gentle, sure and strong,
Lips tell secrets to my palm.
Her kiss lingers, rubbing pink;
I close my fist and keep it for me.
This is love and this is joy --
She's my man, and I'm her boy.
Pray for peace to a god unknown . . .

At the very least, I've found my one.
She
was a subtle beauty
with a slight implication
of sexuality
Mila P Jan 28
What are thoughts?
O sweet mind,
you fill me up with your pain.

You have so much to say,
yet you say nothing.

What are your thoughts?
NO, don't tell me.
Don't give me pain
when i don't deserve it.

Yet you tell me;
a million words,
a million more images,
and i am suddenly lost;
Lost in my own thoughts
with nowhere to go.

I don't want to do it,
i don't want to listen to you.

O sweet mind,
you make me suffer.
Sometimes we tend to think too much and we go beyond our thoughts.
It can make us weaker, when we are thinking about something  but we can't express it. Thoughts can be bad, unless we know *** to control them.
Walking down the same road
with blasting exceptional high-note trumpets in my ears.
The cold’s making my ******* hard and I enjoy the sudden thought of you.
I imagine you getting out of the shower
With steaming mirrors and drops of water on your arms.
How much **** could fit inside your garage I wonder.
.
.
.
I knock on the door.
How is your heart tonight?

Warm ***** and a warm glass of tea.
“It feels like a hug from the inside”
A sentence that could always make you laugh.

I look around while you are staring at my thighs.
Those few square meters are my lake:
Getting rid of my thirst in there, like a small animal,
while looking at the effortless romance of the surroundings,
the simplicity of tiny things and the scattered parts of you
hanging on the walls
vulnerable and careless for what’s about to come.
(your paintings or me? - who knows)

And then we talk and talk
And then talk some more
About things that make us laugh or even uncomfortable
And I always find amusing whatever you will say:
effortless as the surroundings and the charm of your little cat.
.
.
.
.
(43 seconds of silence)

I keep changing positions on that 2 persons blue couch
Knowing that you notice my inability to stay still.
I don’t know how to behave myself.
I kind of give up after 1 hour and 37 minutes,
switching between a cat and a tiger
Completely unaware of how I should control myself
around your sizzling energy.
And then I shamelessly put my lips on your forehead
And at that moment you know that
I want to make love to your messy brain
giving up on the idea that there is any chance for it to stop.

And ****, we kiss, with our two mouths making glorious music
Beating on the pulse of my right wrist.
And  I want to **** the confusion out of you,
But I **** everything else of you instead.

And there I am, laying half *****, feeling desired and trapped
in those ******* vibrations of my legs:
all because of your fingertips
that want my juices like thirsty snakes coming out of your arms.

And we are at that space and moment where I can’t do nothing
But smile full of **** hoping that this could last.

And the door opens and we say “ I will see you on Thursday”
And I am inelegantly faking my confidence for the inevitable.

The druggy satisfaction of a night at your garage
Tasting like the first cigarette of a very,
good,
day.
Masterpiece of curvaceous precision,
Artwork sculpted and delicately lined,
As beauty’s natural definition,
She is the mold for all womankind.

The redness of cherries based on her lips,
Honey envies the sweetness of her tongue,
Waves aspire to the curve of her hips,
She’s more seductive than any song sung.

The trees model fruit on her perfect *******,
While sunlight was made to mimic her smile,
She’s sensuality that never rests,
Longing for her dwarfs the length of the Nile.

Butterflies wings are no match for her eyes,
Her embrace is lighter than clouds above,
Her perfect beauty makes me realize,
She entered my life so I’d fall in love.
Instagram @insightshurt
www.insightshurt.com
Buy “Insights Hurt: Bringing Healing Thoughts To Life” at store.bookbaby.com/book/insights-hurt
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