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Cweeta Cwumble Apr 2016
lips like a ripe plum, so juicy.
my mouth waters, begging
for a taste.
i would **** the nectar
from your skin.
each sip would be sweeter
than the one before.
i would drink you like fruit juice,
and i wouldn't stop

until the sugar
made my teeth rot.
Joel Hayward Apr 2016
Shaytan murmured
Write a poem about her!
I started
Words flowed
And were good

A muse! Such allure!

“You came and stood close
And I so wished my eyes
Weren’t red
From writing
My lecture
Late at night”

Allah said
Don’t type any more

So I didn’t

It wasn’t good

I dragged the cursor
Across the rest
With restraint and
What-ifs
Then tapped

Delete
She wears a sterling silver lie on her finger,

A Christmas gift, unintentionally leading her into Fraud,
months after the wrapping paper had been torn away.

Never gifted with piano fingers, hers pulsated with words waiting to pour through her pen

Having passed faith tests with flying colors,  she looked at the rounded Christ less crucifix, Jesus replaced with fashionable jewels,

She believed it was a medal for coming out alive and in faith

Little did she know that the test was a mere three months away

Not unfamiliar with temptation,

She knew her weakness,

Knowing herself only to be human,

Seeing the ins and outs of her fragility,

Still pushing onward into hope,

Bordering on the suburban developed atheism, but always landing on the grassy faith.

But as one who was too old to be young forever, there was one whose failure

Would drag her out to the desert littered in nihilism.

She feared how at home she felt there,

Seeing her reflections not in any oasis, but in the land that once held such promise

But had been drained of breath and water

The dry ground being undistinguishable from her feet,

too tired to keep going, too broken to stay,

Ignoring that lone piece of metal, glaring from her fingers,

Being covered in the dried and drained land,

Hiding away the lie that was stuck to her,

Fingers swollen with the untapped sap,

Too thickened with sorrow to be drained easily,

Growing into her skin, scarring over,

Ingrown faith, digging itself under her skin,

Unavoidable metal in a desert so bleak,

A Medal that brought prior pride

Now a blood clot in vain of surviving.
Arielle Dawn Mar 2016
Alluring eyes
Good enough to hypnotise

perpetual grace
    Not a movement out of place

The wolf yearning

Thirsty
                              Greedy
            Lusting
                                                Craving

Twinkeling desires
Breed up like wildfire
I didn't actually finish this but I don't know where it was going either. The feelings I had died out like a match in the winter rain. Sorry.
Holly Mar 2016
It's not fair you know.
Leaving a girl alone so late.
The lights are dimmed and music plays.

You could be here, where I lay.

You're temptation.
Poison to me.
But your lips pierce deeper than any spear.

Your skin is electric beneath my finger tips.
My skin melts like butter under yours.

Your eyes are simple.
Full of confidence and determination.
Unlike mine...
Timid and shy.

But the way you make me feel inside...

When your hands run down my body,
The air escapes my mouth.
When my hands are in your hair...
I want nothing else.

Your looks, they **** me.
Your smile alone.

I hope one day I look at you and feel nothing at all.
James Walker Mar 2016
A target in sight
Filled with fright
I must succeed
But this ain't right
Compulsions pull
Yet I'm no fool
This lust, this hunger
It makes me drool
The water below me is now a pool
Swim I must so swim I go
Enter the pond and now I flow
My call is answered and I succeed
In the room I plant my seed
A passion with fashion a Sirens call
Her voice serene, I give my all
The bed was creakin and now it falls
To pieces as I waddle in the sin
I pray I cry is this the end
Why must my love be such a pain
All I wanted was to get some brain
So much fun to run that game
I gotta stop if I am to stay sane
Another poem from 2010. I was 16, the second one I've written
When does,
the cobra strike?
When it deigns so?
No...
The cobra strikes when you...
Flee!

Parade before it.
Drink your fill,
and a little more...
Be merry,
that it knows its greatest weapon,
is laughing stock.
Strange one here, when you think about it.
Is it worth becoming immune?
Don't we then "become" the snake, when this is done?

You be the judge.
Rochelle R Mar 2016
A speck
It festers

Silently
Growing

Leeching
Unnoticeably

Raspy voiced  
Less than whispered

Barely noticed
A pesky itch

Ignore
A twitch

Ignore
It won't exist

Ignore
Fade away

Please
The edge is turning grey

The plague is back
Black

And here to stay

In truth
It never really went away
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