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iwillwaitforyou May 2014
I wanted to know what your lips felt like
I wanted to know what your hips felt like
I wanted to know how good you'd feel pressed up against me
I wanted to see in the morning with the sun peeking through your windows and onto your face
I wanted to know what your deepest darkest fears are
How you cry
How you scream
What you do when your alone
I want to know your mind
I want to know your heart more than i want to know mine
Martin Narrod May 2014
The likes of you I can't describe,
Yet I love to eat between your thighs.
The melody you spake to me
Unfolds my greatest sovereignty.
I crave to quaff all of your spit,
And swallow every drop of it.
Don't cheat me of your tasty flesh,
Those bare and supple ****** *******,
Your eyes that follow my firm gaze,
While we kiss and lick and misbehave.
I need to feel each piece of skin,
Smashing girl and boy parts over and over again.
It's such a treat to eat you whole;
I'm obsessed with eating 19-year-olds.
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Styles May 2014
Don't let these Jokers trick you into trading your Heart's dreams for royalties.
Industry: Rap & Life
Sarah Michelle May 2014
Let the world know that poetry
is great.
There is passion in its rough, gilded grooves
(I've seen it all)
Dance shoes under
(I've tried them on)
And overall, wicked smiles
(they have shown on my face).

I've read the Alice blue tears of a grown man
lined up like a tree so that
each line is a branch.
I've read all the things
that you think don't love each other,
but they simply do.
Poetry loves you--people and poems are
just the perfect
dance partners.
I've seen it all--

I've seen that crazy look
on a poet's face.
It is the best form of every thing
which is only tangible

through a poem.
An English assignment.
Alison Apr 2014
People tell stories of phantom limbs
pieces of themselves that were lost
were severed
that they can still feel.
They are haunted by what they once had
an itch here
an ache there
ghost sensations as powerful as the real thing.
You are my phantom limb.
You fill the hole in the center of my chest
with a continuous presence
that radiates outwards
in soft gray waves.
I feel your fingers on my stomach
your lips on my cheek
your heat mingling with mine.
Always.
Pleasure mixed with pain.
Because there is pain, yes.
Pain of remembrance
pain of what I left behind
pain of what I must wait to regain.
But there is so much more than that.
A which sort of beauty,
my little ghost heart.
And while there are those
who reject the invisible part of themselves
I relish it.
My constant reminder
that you were once in my arms
that we truly have touched
that this love has an origin.
My little ghost heart.
Daylight 4U2C Jan 2014
A wicked woman told my love, "**** him and you will be free."
My love paused, and the wicked woman's old twig of a finger pointed off to me.
Love walked to me with tearful eyes, as if she had no choice.
I smiled wryly and told her in the softness of my voice, "Let it be done, and be free.
No sword is long enough to show my love for thee. No dagger, short enough to match my heart's beat.
So please my love, take your choice of my death. Choose what would be fit."
She didn't hesitate, just cry. She, slowly lifting a mirror from the dust.
I don't know why I felt I must, but I wiped the tears away just to savor her touch.
I looked into her sad blue eyes, just for one more glance. Then I shut my own.
I could feel her lift the mirror, this was her chance, let it be known.
A crashing blankness came down on me, soon after the last things I heard.
"I'm moving up, and you're moving down." These were her last words.
I didn't understand them then, but now I think I know.
She will one day be in the warm light, while I'm still stuck in the cold indigo.
I'd always run up the down escalator, like a crazy kid.
She always said, one day I'd trip.
And now I finally did.
Willow Grierson Apr 2014
Weave a web,
A web of lies.
Hide it all.
All the ties.
Magic at your fingertips,
demonic tidings,
A beauty in the fear.
Burned and Tied
at the Stake,
Ancestors fate.
Hide it,
Hide it deep
Deep inside you
Put to sleep.
Time will come
For you to show
Your eyes will find home,
your heart will soar
Free from your chains,
free from restrain.
Show the beauty,
Show the grace,
But never,
Hide your face.
So I'm writing this book and this mother is a witch, telling her daughter a lullaby to keep her safe.

— The End —