As I map the curves of your body with my lips, I listen to your moan slowly.
I hunger to taste every inch of your skin from toes to between your thighs to your soft cleavage till your lips.
Your cries with pleasure is my new addiction, vaporising my lust.

Tehreem 6d

I have Withheld
The tears just fell

Burning the bridges
Turning the pages

I am walking the distance
From your mighty existence

Towards a new land
With feelings banned

A heart a mess I carry within
You are no longer under my skin

A bittersweet smile touches my lips softly
As I run my fingers through the scars on my pale skin
My heart plays drum and bass
As I turn the pages of my favorite book and they stick together because someone spilled coke on them
All the drunk nights creating a liquid rush
As I sip cold whisky-coke
My senses getting high
When I smell a just litten up joint
Feeling alive while being able to remember
Shaking, thinking about the day I won't

jg 7d

Honey, please hold me one more time,
And i'll once again make the words upon our skin mix and rhyme...

Within every breath I take, I go beyond a world I've always dreamed of,
And my body radiates our passion and love, far from above...

Lynn Al-Abiad Jun 18

Hide me in a man's skin and I'll show you what a woman really is.

- LynnAA

Because I know I have a man inside me. So does every woman.
Because every man has a woman inside him as well.

Madhu Jakkula Jun 18

I wear my skin like a black shining armour
protecting myself from the scars left by you not letting anyone see,
holding secrets within me
leaving your mind to wander,
masking my pain
to reveal a perfectly imperfect me!!

Tranquil Dawn Jun 14

Dreams trickle,
insoluble, inconsolable.
Burrowing like icy fingers,
in unblemished skin
once ripe with promise,
the dying light lingers.

Course of life,
coarse the sand
abrading one silken throat
devastating hope.
Dimmer spills heart's flaming desires
abandoned to their
vain sparks of indignation.
They scream with closed throats,
as curious gazes
stalk--morbid fascination.

I sit and watch my eyes intently.
Waiting for the moment--
eroded hourglasses falter--
anguish becomes
a muted symphony.
Waiting for the moment
when my epiphany
meets her perfect melody.
And I discover the Sandman
always knew where time stopped
and I began.

as a side note.. when an hour glass has too coarse of sand it can eventually cause the neck of the hour glass to get larger.. basically disrupting the calculated trickle of sand, compromising the integrity of "time" itself.

(also eyes in this case can be interchangeable with soul)
Mikaail Jun 14

Let's talk about skin...
Is it?.. a part of my body?
Or more than that?

All a matter of

Some people think of skin
Fragile and easily scarred
Like mine.

Wrapping paper
that decorates
your heart and

There are some
with skin
So Tough:
It is impossible to leave marks

I yearn for such skin
where the impressions of cruelty
are unable
to stick
to stay
to ravage
How much more damage
can my skin sustain?
Before it yields
and I spill out.
All over the

Stan Gichuki Jun 13

I don't know if my daughter will be dark or light skinned,
I won't choose her mother by her skin Colour,
I'm into deep stuff.
The sound of our heartbeats together will be louder than the sound of our skin tone.
But in case my daughter complains about her being dark,
I will tell her not to worry, I'm paying school fees for her to be bright!

"And when she is 16 and in school I'll teach my hand to enjoy saying goodbye when i have to. So i hope she will learn, i hope she will learn that in this world education is key but with dignity, humility and respect you have a bunch of keys"
BabeRuth Jun 13

I think it's beautiful
The way your hands are sturdy and calloused
Not the gentle softness illustrators are known for
These hands have felt real art
Built from the ground up
Days of mixing, moulding and texturing
Breathing life into deathly white parchments

I think it's beautiful
The way your arms are slender yet firm
Dusky brown skin holding rippling strong muscles
Strengthened slowly
through years of bullying and soul searching
Their unsymmetrical realness known not
For their harshness
But for the gentle notes they strum
Weaving elegantly with the quiet moving pictures on screens

I think it's beautiful
The way your shoulders always stand strong
A declaration demanding the eyes of every being in sight
Their angled rigidity know to be surprisingly nimble
An immovable pillar for the melting of your body
A constant transformation into unknown characters

The hidden bumps of tired hands
The rough ridges of calloused skin
The angled sharpness of chiseled bones
Hidden works of art
Flitting secretively under the armor you wear
The priviledge of their appearance
But a few can bear

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