I close my eyes in the dark.
I whisper your name with a
slight sigh.
Your scent still lies on my
skin.
It drives my senses crazy.
I bite my lips.
I try to fight my body's urges.
I feel that I am losing my
control.
You dominate over me like
no one has before.
I give up.
I move like a puppet,
dancing in the rhythm of
your passion, while I still
feel your hands all over
me, touching me in the
most wicked way.
I moan.
My body moves like it is
mine no more.
I explode.
Submissive of your dark
desires.
Slave of your twisted love...

Twisting of beauty should not deform the idea, the beauty itself.
Why oh why do clouds of black, rain down on the subject of shame and pain?
Why can’t the weapon be materialized?
Why can’t the lies be realized?

Beauty is the best source of pain.
Take a thing high in glory,
Pure and pleasing,
Disturb the foundation,
And watch it fall.
The height lets it into the darkest hole.

Why is this so?
Why must what is made most magnificent,
Suffer from a subtle switch of substratum,
To break and bend hearts so badly beaten,
Until it becomes easier to drown in poison then,
To take a breath of oxygen?

Round and round the graveyard.
Like a headless bear.
One slit , two stabs.
Raise him from the dead.

Mo_poet

This is forbidden;
You and I.
Like the moon and the sun sharing the same sky.
Our hands weren't meant to touch,
But they did,
And in that moment it all became too much.

We are forbidden;
You and I.
We are the reason Angels cry.
Our lips weren't meant to meet,
But they did,
And nothing else could ever taste as sweet.

We are the ones who planted the forbidden fruit.
Don’t fight it-- Let the seed of desire and sin take root.
We have tasted the knowledge,
Good and bad,
We have left the garden, for good, only to remain unfed.

You and I are forbidden.
Outcasts, lepers, and rejects.
We are the fruit you so humbly deny.
We are the everlasting sigh.

The fruit that grows from our tangled limbs are sweet and ripe.
The leaves that sprout from our hearts are twisted and right.

Taste us.
Taste us.
Taste us.

awkward smile sticky wave
both stuttering in faked honesty and false sincerity
words crafted and sewed to fit around the other
perfectly like a blackened cardigan
lined with sweet sweet poison

killer eye contact keeps you out
and keeps you coming back for more
the risk and danger of falling into the grasps
of a worse person than you
is tantalising like munching on melatonin morsels
while dancing away from death’s ***** door

when backs are turned
smiles die and waves collapse
into the sweaty twisting of fingers
and the twisting of mouths into large long grins
ready for the first conversation the first contact
traps ready they turn around

with even bigger smiles
starting with the sharpened hook
of a fairytale introduction where
one came from antarctica and the other from hell
giggles and laughter only serve to make hair stand
cringing inside so much their stomach is a braid

poison and sarcasm don’t drip like honey
they slide and slither and burn like snakes
in the grass, camouflaged in the already dark night
up they go into your brain your mind your soul
feasting on your fear your weakness your love

then comes the main course the connection
the stories of broken childhoods in succession
not stopping for a tear or a comment
flowing like the poison flowing like the river
of thoughts that fall from your head
as the story goes on, getting stuck in the endless
ebb and flow and tide and spiral of hypnosis

it’s too late when you realise
you’re in his palm his hand his fingers
a puppet for pain of pain by pain
the strings no your own strings
wrapped around your own hands your own feet
your mind caught in its own trap

just a tunnel to the other side
a flight of steps in a thunderstorm of rickety
elevators to be stepped on and off
crumbling to dust in the very end
an underpass to the above, just the cement
crusted and turned to stone frozen
in time, unmoving, resigned

and finally you sleep
in your own cocoon you made for him
tighter and tighter the strings are
the more tired you become
falling into the eternal rest
barely slipping from the dancing fingers of death
slipping past it into a place
your place, faraway
lost in your own dreams and nightmares

She stares with menace
A custom she can't control
Gray paints her world

She met a kind man
Who gave radiance to her life
A cliche story

People flock on him
Which stains her light with darkness
She is at her end

She is resentful
She want to own him alone
She has a great plan

By midnight they met
She cut his throat nice a swift
"He is mine only"