Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
somedumbbitch Jun 24
I don't think, I really want this...

But surely, I
still have the eyes, to perceive
that she's the kind of,
fever dream
that makes grown men, and women,
lament, and weep

for the way, her jeans
gather round, her knees, and thighs--
for the way, her eyes...
pay homage, to the ancient skies...

would you take...a ride?
And, hey...would I...?
I don't think I might...

but she asserts her swerve,
with a certain sway,
and her curves,
would serve,
as hors d'oeuvres,
for days.
Her fruity lips...
with a sparkle glaze

they trickle...dark...as marmalade.
But if harvested, late...
what's their carnal taste?

...Is she the mark, on the grave,
by which, I think...I know myself?

No...I don't think I really want this...

not a shiver, runs through me.
But, sue me...for looking,
when she's so ******* juicy...
does it consume me?
Does it titillate me?
...I don't feel me, hyperventilating?

What if she turned, to face me?
To lay me, lace me
between her thighs...
internalized; eternal lies,
to sate me,
with her flavor, to bait me
acerbic, and savory...
Her skin, burning, like a lamp wire,

and her fingertips, debasing me.
What if I, was her vampire,
and she,
the one slaying me?
A slaking queen...
aching to break, her thirst...
so, what if I staked her, first...?
Would she mortify,
like ash?
Or would she forge, a lighted path,
and make me wish,
she had, forced...my hand?

No...I don't think I really want this...

not a shiver, runs through me.
But, sue me...for looking,
when she's so ******* juicy.
This is a highly experimental piece, following a discussion, I had. Contemplating the topic of, "could I be?" "Would I be?" I enjoyed layering the rhyme scheme, most of all. "She" doesn't exist, she was the embodiment of inhuman, female perfection my mind tried to build, broken down into basic features.

I pushed the boundaries to write outside my comfort zone, and it went rather weird. I don't think I lean that way, but it was fun to write about something completely different, in an entirely new way. Make of it, what you will, I guess? Happy Pride month, y'all.
Damocles Jun 16
In the heat of moments,
Where incandescence mirrored flame
Dancing marigold shadows on alabaster skin,
Flush pink rosy cheeks greet with ruby red lips curled
A quaint smile, in a quiet Manor.

Quiet manners,
In succinct hungered eyes
Staring into permissive lashes
Batted from sapphire pools,
Lively looms of auburn Toole
Shading cherub roundness of her French features,
Obstructing beauty that begot but a heavy sigh.

Pallid cold fingers,
Reach to swipe the silken veil,
Close to her heat, she’s radiant
Sun-washed white, Christian pure.

She offers her hand,
Like an hors d’oeuvres,
She encourages the beast,
With tiny begs and pleads.

Fangs descend,
Parasitic hunger contends
With romantic candor,
Need not to soil sentiment,
He won’t be rude or offended.

A kiss,
Chilled lips touch throbbing wrist
Tongue teasing the riverbeds,
Sending them into blued shivers,
And then a pang rang through
Screaming at the synapses,
The sinew snap of the epidermis,
Snap pea in its clarity,
A rarity in her giving so charitably.

A lashing flick,
Twirling like butterflies patternless flight
Suckling the honeysuckle nearly dry.
As sapphire eyes slated to drained gray pearls
Slinking frame bracing on the shoulder of a chair
She smiles still, given fanatically
She loves with majesty and anima.

He kisses her like a long goodbye
A farewell crept upon phantasmagoric moments
Splashed as vividly as neon paint along black-lit canvases
Her body pocked with punctures
Polka-spotted chic in tapped keg kinesis.
She yearned to join his side,
Like some corpse bride
Under the guise of sanguineous wines
Forever entwined,
And who could deny it?

But he did,
Hid behind chthonic masquerades
And never wishing to see the day
An ageless love betrayed his fragility,
A heart that ached so eternally
Tragic in their symphony
Played out in hungry morsels.
The immortal who loved a mortal
And her spectral haunting,
In every drop given.
a story of love, vampirism, willingness to please beyond reason, a need to shelter with the fear of happiness.
Damocles Jun 10
There’s a scent of trouble in the night air
Here in this blue-black pitched alley
Where she leads with a hypnotic sway
Hips moving like a pendulum
And I’m her fool wanting to get my hands on
Leather-clad round peach-like curvatures.

She stops me with a fingertip
Pressed upon my silky lips,
Hints of honey, lavender, and vanilla wafting
Intoxicated I drunkenly stumble on my feet
As she grins, careful not to show those pearly white teeth.

She tells me to stand still
Moving like a siren in open water,
Circling, and kissing parts of my neck never touched
Electrical pulses fire sending shivers,
Cool hands fondling over marbled muscle
I’m feeling flushed and dizzied.

She feels the rush of red,
Flow through my rivers,
And filling her prize,
Fabric straining,
Painstaking,
I bite my knuckle,
Must regain composure,
Must regain…

I hear the belt unbuckle
I feel the tug of hands by my waistband
Her eyes light with awe,
As my fleshly serpent bounced and swayed
Free from it’s cotton laced cave,
I try to say something…
Going too fast perhaps,
Barely know her,
Not even her name.

But thoughts go blank
As her wet-tongued ballets
Twisting like licking a vanilla cone,
Until the warmth of her maw
Became a second home.

Lost in the ecstasy
My hands gripping her jet-black hair
Pulling while moving hips to dance with her skillful dancer,
Until the pain comes.

Clutched tight by the upper limbs of this spider,
She enticed me with silky romantic gestures,
****** pleasure,
But as the bite enters my swollen member
I feel faint, my heart slowing, wishing to surrender
As the world spins, asunder
Weaker, feeling each pint dither
As the last drops travel lonesome
Through a cave of dried and wilting river beds

I only wanted a chance encounter
She only wanted to be fed.
This piece is about vampirism, specifically about being seduced by someone in the clan Toreador (if you're not a vampire the masquerade fan here's a link: https://whitewolf.fandom.com/wiki/Toreador_(VTM)) it is meant to be darkly seductive and provocative. This piece should not be consumed by anyone under the age of 18.

if you feel this poem is too dark or too obscene please message me before flagging, and I will happily take it down or make it private. The last thing I want to do is cause harm.
Next page