The truth is this:
every monster
you have met
or will ever meet
was once a human being
with a soul
that was as soft
and light
as silk

Someone stole
that silk from their soul
and turned them
into this

So when you see
a monster next
always remember
do not fear
the thing before you
fear the thing
that created it
instead.

-NIKITA GILL

Nikita Gill is a an amazing, empowering feminist writer with a whole lot of talent. Seriously.

a
chap
at
a
poetry
site
asked
a
poetess
to
send
him
her
silk
panties
well
his
request
didn't
go
down
too
well
she
was
shocked
by
the
audaciousness
of
him
wanting
her
tail
coverings
the
thought
did
cross
her
mind
that
he
was
of
the
cross-dressing
kind

David M Harry Oct 18

Our hands paint intimate conversations
on the canvas of our flesh.
We speak without word or voice,  
guided by the whims of our breath.
In the ebony of this night, I am not afraid
Because my heart is bound to yours
with a ribbon of November silk.  
I consider for a moment, the way
your flesh responds to my touch.
The moonlit ebb and flow
of shadows upon your skin,
glittered with sparks of ecstasy.
Lying beside you, I close my eyes
And you turn towards the cave of my neck,
taking your rightful place in my arms.
My heart quickens in anticipation
of the intimate moment when
Our breathing becomes one and
I am unsure of where I begin
and end in this embrace and
I do not care because I am certain
at this moment I do not need to exist
Apart from you.  
The chemistry of our breath swells
with the nectar of dreaming  
and I catch a waning glimpse
of a glowing butterfly fluttering
in the aether above us.
I will never untie this November silk
to loosen the tether between us.
I do not want to be alone
in the ebony of this  night
without a word to say,
Without someone whose heart
is bound to mine.

Spin silk threads trough the labyrint that binds me,
Over, under,
around and beside me...
and in the end
Always,

Come find me

Art Sep 14

Black glass
Hugged by plastic.
A rigid, shiny stone,
Holy and smooth as silk.

It calls upon you.
Its dark face glowing with glee,
its still form
trembling in tantrum.

Eyes gawk eagerly while
dexterously trained fingers
Slide their grease-stained trail
across its blossoming surface,
trapped in vanity.
A technological marvel,
one might say,
it’s glistening roads worshipped and
Truly wondrous.

All the images: moving, smiling, addicting.
The knowledge of the universe, packed into
a tiny, plastic cocoon,
festering, growing, evolving,
eager to be eaten.

Endorsing gluttonous laze, and
Unmasking humanity’s
unseemly colors;
it lulls you in with its
digital spindle embrace, the
sharp strings of data
reaching in through the eyes and
touching the optic nerve.
Neurons swell in ecstasy, pupils dilate, the heart screams;
matter of the brain catches fire in
its electrical storm, and
cascades into chemical climax.

Satiating a toxic lust.
Brilliant glass
turns to black,
stuck to your hand like glue.

The things we worship
Alice Wilde Sep 5

Ephemeral moments
Slip through our fingers
Like moon-silk threads
Waiting to be drawn out
Into something beautiful

Kat Jun 29

Oh how good your lies sound
When they leave your lips
Like silk
My heart yearns
For your heart
To yearn
Such as mine
To know
You'll never want me
The way I want you
But still I fall
Every time

alan May 26

Skin was made of milk,
vocal chords of silk.
Eyes were of rhinestone,
but the bones were just bone.

Poetic T Apr 14

Enveloped within the musings of ardour,
I was the pencil etching upon the refined
blank verses of her needing's.

Engraving within the crevasses of her
yearning, writing syllables felt deep within.
She was an impression on my heart.

We were woven of different silks that merged
beautifully woven deep within the emotions
of each others rousing verses.

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