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She walks at night likes passion's grace
Through nebulous fields of dream landscapes
Wild Morpheus her footsteps guides

She’s lust’s impassioned wile incarnate
Her will like swirling ocean currents
Endows the night with wanton purpose

Sent from heaven's pearly gates
To make men ponder mortal fortune
Tempting spirits will to sate

Demanding accolades of prowess
To satisfy her primal needs
Traverse her treacherous terrain

Her visage of immortal love
Like honey dripping from the comb
Inspires reckless heart's abandon

Dawn comes like coitus interruptus  
Narcotic wisps of contention fade
A thrall with no earthly recourse
Infatuated with the feminine mystique in general can leave you unrequited.
Sydney Oct 2020
Crimson lips
You eye with desire
Black hair
With a blue streak
Running through
Like a stream
Ocean eyes
Stroked with trouble
A wicked smile
Upon skin
Like dew
Striking speed
That you just can't help but admire
She's evil
But beautiful
And you
In love.
dexter Aug 2020
I'm not really a poet, but I'll write a poem anyway.
Reading a good poem is like c*mming, but for your soul
I don't know whether to be insulted or to thank you for calling me a succubus.
Humans make my brain hurt. Yes, that includes me.
I don't know what I want but I'm pretty sure I'll get it.
I think I'd be a better writer if I didn't think so much.
Can't tell if I'm "need to eat" hungry or if it's the black hole in my chest beckoning to be fed.
Some days live wire lust for life
Others, the walking dead.
(Un)Inspired Pyro
You don't have to rhyme to be a poem.
How sweet it is!
rk Jul 2020
i will eat you
with kisses
drowning deeper
with each mouthful
until i taste nothing
but the sweetness
of your lips
and the burning
of my heart.
"my god, what would a man do with a woman like that except worship her?"
Xandaria Apr 2020
Do you remember me?
Do you remember the way you pulled at my hair
The way you bit on my shoulder
The way you hit my cheek
And left marks of yourself all over me
The way you flung money on my face
The way you kept ******* me
Even though I was asking, begging
For you to stop
The way you screamed,
"Work harder you *****!
I didn’t waste money for you to stop"
And the bruises you left
When I passed out?
Am the girl
From the Red Room of The ***** House.
Am the ****
Who is ***** everyday
But society says,
"NO. It's all for the easy money"
Am the gold-digger
Crying for people to stop.
Am the story
Of eighty million **** toys
Behind the Curtains less Doors of Pleasure for Men.
We aren’t **** stars.
We don't become famous for filming obscene videos.
We are just some toys
That men borrow
Like a rental car.
We are the colors
The society talks about in hushed voices
In the corner of a deserted street.
We are the discarded clothes
You never wore
Because they weren’t good enough.
We are the succubuses
Of every man's dream.
We are Pleasure
We die a bit everyday.
We have felt, seen and heard pain
MORE than any one of you here.
We are WOMEN.
But no one holds a candle lit march for us
When one of us is *****.
"It's all for the easy money"
Isn’t it?
We are the Strippers, the Prostitutes, the *****
Are the nightmares you never wish to have
do you remember me now?
Izzy Nov 2019
I am a succubus: my caress turns you to putty in my hands.
My allure is effortless: your limbs are mine to do with as I desire.

You cannot resist my allure just like a fish to the bait
Cné Nov 2019
I'm a creature of the Fey
seeking souls that come my way.
A native of the deep blue sea
singing songs of sweet melodies.

Come to me, oh weary traveler.
I’m exactly what you seek.
No compass, map or spy glass needed.
You need only take the leap.

Siren’s gold, a coveted treasure,
worth the risk for a life of leisure.
And if you chance to know my face,
my hold shall be your last embrace

Come to me oh weary traveler
I’ll obliged to offer thee...
wanton eyes, silky tresses, and
pouting lips, your eyes will see.

I’m unlike a mortal lass
from dreams of longing, I have passed.
I came upon your lonely cries
revealed my beauty to your eyes.

Siren’s gold, a prized treasure,
swells your heart with prideful measure.
So shun the world that you have known
and spend your nights within my own.

You’ll be known by other men
for your great works of voice and pen.
Yet, inspiration has a cost.
for with me, know your soul is lost.

I shall be your secret lover.
I will sway you from all others.
I'll take your passion and your skill.
I'll take your life quicker still.

Cloaked in mist, the Siren’s Gold,
you lonely sailor, you’ve lost your hold,
through the kisses that I give
I draw from you, that I will live.

And though you think this weakness grand,
the touch of death, your lover's hand.
Your will to live, has come too late
Come to me and love your fate.

Haylin Feb 2019
Her fingers trail my arm with cold calculation,

her laughter as sweet as the deadliest sin.

She looks into my eyes with nothing but determination,

bites my lip and gives a sigh.

She takes what she wants without hesitation,

weaving her magic into the air.

At last, I am told that my time is over,

she ***** my soul out without a care.
Haylin Feb 2019
I don't feel the want, to talk too much
her touch and eyes say more
every stroke, tender kiss
reaches, to my core

A subtle caress of motion
an embrace of words, pure art
statuary built from scratch
moving in my mind, and heart

So don't stop, or pause
on the path, of silent need
hand in hand, we'll wander on
and on each other, feed
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