"allows" poems
Sometimes you open yourself up to a person because you feel and believe that they're different and maybe this time they won't break your heart and that your love will be requitted. So you go out on a limb and open up so much of yourself to this person. Things that you're afraid to tell others about because of fear of being judged or rejected. But there's just something about this person that allows you to tell them everything. You become so comfortable in the presence of that person that you openly admit your flaws, you don't hide it. You just completely lose yourself in love and in the thought and concept of being loved, of being in a relationship and of being with someone that you can be yourself with. The idea of that person just completely excites you and everything about them makes you happy. Seeing them and hearing their voice just helps you in an inexplicable manner and being with them is an emotion of complete comfortability on its own. You learn to love this person and you accept their flaws and differences. You accept how they might not necessarily love eating McDonalds as much as you do or they are crazy about sci-fi movies where you can't even get yourself past watching a chick flick.
But that's just it, you don't mind.
You don't mind because love is about sacrifices.
Its about sacrificing your weekly episode of The Vampire Diaries to watch the most recent sports updates.
Because you'd rather lose the argument than to lose the person. You'd sacrifice a part of your daily routine all for love. The worst part is that nothing is guaranteed. You're not guaranteed how long you will be in a relationship with this person. You're not guaranteed complete happiness and you're not guaranteed that things are going to be perfect. You just have to trust this person and have faith. Believe the best and hope that everything will work out for the. Best. Believe that even if you break up with this person, that you're going to be ok. Everything is going to be ok, and that new beginnings are perfectly acceptable. Believe that you're going to overcome heartbreak of any kind. You just have to believe that someone out there is looking for someone like you.
What others see Wrong in you just might be the exact thing that will make someone else fall in love with you. And you need to be realistic. Not all relationships last forever. Some relationships are there for lessons and experiences. So that very person that you completely open yourself up to, can break your heart. It could be during or even after the relationship.
But its all part of life I guess. You'll never know how to love someone wholeheartedly if you haven't been hurt before. You just have to turn your heartbreak in to something positive, make the most out of your situation. See the light in the darkness. But learn to deal with things too. Find closure in what happened to you and don't leave a relationship with unfinished business. Because unfinished business will have to be finished sooner or later, and I think sooner is better. Allow yourself time to heal too. Opening yourself up to someone that much can hurt you a lot, and everything you had with that person will be completely lost in an instant. And you're gonna need to come to terms with that. Remember that what's meant to be , will be.
Love, is a complicated thing, and you're never quite sure how things could possibly turn out to be. You're just gonna go out on a limb each time hoping for the best and patiently waiting for your happily ever after with a special person.
Oct 25, 2013
Oct 25, 2013 at 1:00 AM UTC
Beauty lies bereft and bound
it cries for help but utters no sound
mascara kisses fade from your lips
etched by lovers worn fingertips
purple rings around sullen eyes
the broken skin it never lies
fists of thunder make not the man
nor the swift strike of back of hand
a thousand apologies can never repair
the displacement of a single hair
for she is not an object for you to own
she is a Queen that deserves a throne
and if she allows you to enter her chamber
it's also her decision if you should remain there.
Jun 28, 2018
Jun 28, 2018 at 5:32 PM UTC
Sometimes, I am in love with myself.
I force them to witness my love for my melanin
because they would love for me to hate my melanin.
I know that I am seen, but I want to be heard,
The first amendment allows me to speak, but they refused to hear a word-
that comes from my mouth.
My lips stereotyped as too black.
My diction too proper to act like this,
yet my slang is too ghetto to act like that...
Sometimes, I wonder what it's like to be white.
I hate being stared at when I speak in Spanish.
I never know if it's in disgust or in comfort,
because the sound of the double "r" rolling off of my tongue
sounds like the ricochet of the bullets they fire from their guns.
Since they no longer can enslave us like animals, they slaughter us
because, "if I can't have you no one can."
I refuse to be put down.
I refuse to shutdown.
My brown skin threatens,
and you all should be afraid.
Because I will banish your negativity with my Latin American flow,
speaking in Spanish with the Bachata tempo filling my veins.
My Ebonics is iconic,
and I refuse to be put in a box when the world is a sphere.
I... am more... than this.
Jul 8, 2016
Jul 8, 2016 at 2:16 AM UTC
To love Jesus is to long with Him
But that longing is not enough
There is a need
*To structure our lives *
Around spending time with Him.
To desire also means to be disciplined
And then, we found ourselves
Delighting in the Lord.
It captures the essence
Of what it takes
To develop a consistent devotional life.
You can be motivated with great desire,
But without discipline
You will never get there
Discipline positions us
To receive grace;
Discipline is not grace
It is the submission of our heart
To encounter the grace of God.
It is not about whether God loves us —
His love is sure
Whether we are disciplined or not —
But it is our wholehearted response
To Him that allows us to find Him.
One must delight in the Lord
And shear every misfitting
And earthly delights.
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 9:58 PM UTC
I know you.
Sitting behind a screen in your room,
Sipping in the shadows of a coffee shop.
iPhone, iPad, iAm "Anonymous".
The most dangerous word you can be labeled,
The most double-edged of weapons-
Anonymous.
You're never really as untraceable
As the cleared browser history says you are,
Never as untraceable as the chain of destruction you cause is traceable.
You're never really as invisible
As the checked box lets you think you are,
Never as invisible as the scars you direct a hand to make are visible.
One word can't be all that.
Anonymous can't be so dangerous.
Some clicks on a keyboard can't be so devastating.
There's a reason it used to be difficult to avoid responsibility.
Because responsibility for your words, for what you cause,
Is what allows you to see a few steps ahead.
Your signature is what allows you to learn from mistakes,
To vow after you've learned the hard way to think before you act.
To see that those words have two names attached to them now.
The writer, and the subject.
Two traceable, visible people.
Two hearts beating and breathing, now connected.
Anonymous constructs a wall between action and reaction.
It robs you of responsibility.
Yes, responsibility is a prized possession, there to teach and show.
Anonymous allows you to settle.
It robs you of the greater person you could become.
Yes, your future holds more than this, there beyond the wall of cyber bulling.
I hate that I was once Anonymous like you.
I hate that I unknowingly controlled the strings
Of a self-destructive marionette hand miles away.
But I don't hate you. Because I know you.
I know you are more than the mistakes you've made behind that screen.
I know you are more than Anonymous.
So prove it.
Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 7:13 PM UTC
Hey there,
I am me. Me am I.
A black beauty am I.
The sun smiled at my body and turned my skin into its own little chocolate factory.
Several shades of a dazzling dark complexion.
A black beauty am me.
As I walk, the view of my curves captivates the attention of all those looking on.
Wow they say, **** isn't she fine.
A black beauty am I.
People often underestimate my potential but they don't know that there's more to me than meets the eye.
My intelligence allows my voice to be heard because I excel at everything I do.
A black beauty am me.
A warrior, a fighter, a lover and a friend. I am a black beauty who believes in the power of sisterhood
to uplift rather than tear down;
to encourage rather than discourage;
to dream rather than to fight.
Not only am I beautifully black but I am me and me am I...Black beauty....
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 10:13 AM UTC
#
Each body part
sizzled in pure pleasure
in the blissed wake
of your oral efforts
brought forth the waves
of rapturous delight...
Spurs poetic inspiration
in equal liberation
of desires to please.
Bodies transpose
in fluid motion
as brazen eyes meet.
Savor the voluptuous image before you.
Indulge your eyes in my carnal halo
before they roll to the back of your head.
On all fours
knees between your thighs
tips of swollen breast
caress your chest
tasting fresh honey
upon lips in a kiss.
Ripples of ardor
hover
by wet trails
of sensual kisses
suckling towards
the apex.
Breathe in
the slow motion pace
that pulsates eagerness
to the fore tumescing bulge
leaking with anticipation
of viscous lava.
Tickles of silken hair
against flesh edges closer.
Emerging subtle grumbles
in deep resonance
betray your impatience .
Hands tightly twine
in tangled hair
to maneuver
the treasure hunt.
Licked lips pause
at the sight of fire
burning in
glazed gazes
before engulfing
the throbbing member.
Plump ruby lips
greet velvety texture
in a slow deep dive.
Tongue curls around
the flavor
in a dulcet embrace.
Moans release
as grip tightens
in my hair
settles the
rhythmic pace
to taste in an
oscillating dance.
The masculine aroma of heady musk
lingering there, arouses my appetite.
With my enthusiasm
attuned to
your preferred rhythm
suckling, slurping
surface and dive
in measured unison.
Break of breath
allows tongue
freedom to roam below,
licking, soft kissing
the tender hammock
of testicles.
Tongue and lips escalate higher
to mount another assaulting dive
deeper in the depths
of the cusp in cavity.
Wetted fingers
probe even lower
circling superficially
as gasp escapes
your heavy breath;
flaming eyes lock.
Finger dips in
with expert finesse
gorging hardened growth
within a wrapped hand.
Thighs tighten
with rocking grip.
Head thrusts onward,
drilling forward
in each dive.
Salvia slips
fingers grip
lips dip
Engorged swell, flesh tightens in an intensity
of volcanic eruption ...
HALTS
assault
Pace retracts.
Loosened lips kiss tip.
*“Soon sweetheart, your time will ***
inside me as we surrender to synergy."*
#
Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 7:51 AM UTC
We prosper by our connectivity
it permits us influence and involvement
which invokes within us a feeling of usefulness
a sense of purpose that allows us to believe,
we are worthy of being beloved
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 9:54 AM UTC
The whisper of mine shivers a siren at the hunt.
The childish demise allows me to narrow your pains.
The symbol of freedom, allows me to touch your soul.
The soul will softly be fathered for lust.
Oct 29, 2015
Oct 29, 2015 at 5:29 AM UTC
I have been to where
the lonely go, and I’ve
seen their luring towers,
A call to the hopeless, to those who come
from far away to see
if coming was a mistake.
Will we ever know
who doesn’t go?
and what of those that go
but remain unknown?
Perhaps they go at night.
The horror of it.
To not be able to see the end
but still it comes and quickly.
A silent floating moment
in a winter of regret,
a springtime of longing,
a summer of sunshine,
Or a fall to the end
of the world in 7 seconds.
A super cosmic collider of
meticulous destruction.
Whether they stay or go
its all the same,
multi-layered levels of
brokenness,
no one is immune.
No one is immune.
Some spend time putting
things back together,
the spacing between levels allows it.
Others break over and over
and over again,
not enough space for repair
while the pull of the towers,
the flaming red towers and
the fog rolling down
from the west promise silence.
When I stood at the edge and looked over,
the noise was deafening.
The ones without space
cannot hear.
Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 10:46 PM UTC
Procrastination?
What is that I've never heard of such a thing.
But maybe because I'm to busy procrastinating to hear it,
I am mike,
I am not a poet, a leader, a storyteller, or an academic,
I am a dreamer, a gamer, a man of many things,
I would rather let life pass me by and sit in my game,
Than to deal with the drama of reality.
It is not that I don't like reality,
It is that reality is too busy,
With school and work
Facebook and friends
Learning and imagining
Are they even one in the same
I love my games because it allows my mind to run wild
From building empires in Minecraft to taming creatures in Pokemon
Games are a way I can re envision my world
They allow kids to show their creative side something education removed long ago.
So I stand before you asking,
What is procrastination,
I'd rather play my game and imagine.
My life seems to pass by but in my one life span I have lived dozens of others.
Apr 4, 2013
Apr 4, 2013 at 7:53 AM UTC
Social media
has ruined my life
my mom says it
was never like this
twenty-five years ago
You never saw
all your friends
hanging out without
you
Or the boy you like
be with someone else
or be caught in a lie
Social media lets lonely
people to act like they
aren’t lonely
and it allows people to
show off their lives
by hurting others
Show off your body
for all the old men
waiting behind a screen
instead of a tree in the park
Show off your friends
to the person you
left behind
Carry on all the
traditions that were
started way back
when they were
your friend
Watch your guy’s new girl
and see her photos with him
and imagine it was you
Social media
posting pictures
leaving comments
counting likes
has ruined more
friendships than
Instagram followers
I’ll ever have
It has ruined my life
And everyone allows it
Mar 19, 2018
Mar 19, 2018 at 9:47 PM UTC
miles mean nothing to a heart that is pure
words penned in grace, sent to ether
give heartease to the overstretched
sowing stiches of understanding
in tapestry threadbare
little suns and stars
shining bright in love and hope
from face unseen and adirondack chair
gives strength to one down, from down under
allows grief, the words needed the abilty to care
for these simple gifts, no payment required
from the heart open to care...
Jun 20, 2019
Jun 20, 2019 at 10:09 AM UTC
Being an actor or actress
Doesn't mean you are on broadway,
Or a star of a hit reality TV show.
Being an actor or actress
Means you step onto the stage
And give it your all.
You accept the spotlight
Not as a blinding piece of equipment,
But as a sun shining on you,
Bringing you to life.
When you hear the term
Break a leg
You form a grin,
Knowing it's not literal.
When the laughter
Of a crowd on opening night
Encourages you and gives you hope.
Being an actor or actress
Isn't about the flowers
Or the repetitive good jobs after a show.
Being an actor or actress
Is about the butterflies you get
Before you go on stage.
It's about the energy you feel
When you and your cast
Do something spectacular
On stage.
Being an actor or actress
Is an outlet from the real world.
It allows you to step onto stage
And forget about the boy
Who broke your heart,
Or the money struggles,
Or the bombs going off
In other countries.
It allows you to step into
A new and exciting universe,
Where nothing else matters except,
Being an actor or actress.
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 1:35 PM UTC
dear chemistry,
you are a detective
you hold scientists
in an enchantment
of protons and neutrons
you dissect me
identifying the components
that allow me to waltz
across light and holy ground
while you are bound
to seek solace
in what my atoms
cannot give you
i cannot give you motion
or allow you speed past me
that is my task
my task is to entrance
philosophers in the "whys"
and "hows" of my force and energy
and i'm sorry that
you are bound to be prose
when you seek to be poetry
i'm sorry that if you were a musician
you'd have all the words
and i'd be the melody
we'd be the song
that could never meet
i'll meet you in between the horizons
when my masters
speak to yours
pondering on what allows
the why to occur and
how does the event happen
i'll meet you in between
question marks and white coats
i'll meet you in the next life
when maybe the future
will allow us to be trees
instead of branches
my arms will spread
to reach out to your matter
past the artifices
and your atoms will
race towards me
all force, energy and velocity
and i will ask the "whats" and "hows"
and maybe you will answer the why
and maybe the answer
will be a discovery
a phenomena of sentences
all questions already answered
always yours, physics
Mar 18, 2016
Mar 18, 2016 at 8:12 AM UTC
*This view from my window
Its why I moved in
This view from my window
Has kept me in
This view from my window shows a world of hope
This view from my window disables me to cope
This view from my window allows me to stay inside
This view from my window
Allows me to hide
From the ouside world
Im kept safe inside
But it is from my inside that I must hide
Im pushindg and trying to get up and out
From this view from my window
Please let me out
Incapacitated, rejected, scorned , and deprived
Of what this view from my window has on the other side*
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 9:43 AM UTC
Life’s about the adjectives,
it’s how we know the world.
Nouns, you see, are only names,
with adjectives - life is knurled.
Think about the apple,
just fruit upon the tree,
red ripe skin with tasty pulp,
better lets us see.
Providing us the texture,
of color if you will,
ADJ allows us space,
to give our lines the fill.
Life’s about the adjectives,
spice for the written line,
Verbs, you see, are motion,
and index things like time.
Think about the race car,
going around the lane,
zipping fast with lightning speed,
better feeds the brain.
Providing us the feeling,
of nature if you will,
ADJ gives the taste,
to writings we distill.
Verbs contain the action,
and nouns have the heart,
adjectives add the flavor,
for cooks of written art.
Life’s about the adjectives,
how else could it be,
that words paint the pigments,
in poems for us to see?
Aug 20, 2010
Aug 20, 2010 at 3:48 PM UTC
Radness
The Philosopher’s Stone is not just a spiritual metaphor but an actual substance that can transmute lead or mercury into gold. The Stone is a product of Alchemy. Unlike chemistry, which only deals with physical matter and energy, Alchemy makes use of etheric and astral energies to reconfigure matter at the quantum level. Alchemy is to chemistry what a cube is to the square; it is a superset of chemistry and is capable of so much more.
How Etheric Energy Overrides Physical Laws
Alchemical achievements require successfully gathering, concentrating, and multiplying etheric energy. When this energy reaches a critical threshold, it overpowers the normal laws of physics and allows seemingly miraculous processes to take place. I believe it does this by biasing probability. By amplifying the probability of minor quantum effects, which are normally limited to the subatomic scale, they manifest on the larger atomic scale. In this way, one element spontaneously transforms into another.
The world around us is made of subatomic particles that regularly undergo unpredictable jumps, teleportation, bilocation, superposition, and other strange quantum behaviors. Why don’t everyday solid objects do likewise? Because the random quantum jittering of their subatomic particles collectively average out to zero. Think of a large crowd of people; seen from the air, the crowd as a whole is stationary, even though individuals within the crowd move in seemingly random directions. It’s because their movements are random and uncoordinated that they average to zero net movement on the whole.
The world we see around us is merely a crowd of subatomic particles whose individual quantum jumps aren’t apparent because they average to collective stillness. Physical laws that govern our everyday world, known as the deterministic laws of classical physics, are merely the laws of the crowd. These laws are what’s left of quantum physics after the unpredictability is removed through statistical averaging. They are not absolute laws; they are just the most probable manner in which matter and energy behave.
Physical laws can be bent. While the probability is incredibly low that enough coordination and coherence develops among the quantum jitters to manifest on a collective scale, that is exactly what etheric energy does. It alters probability and thereby skews the laws of thermodynamics, gravity, electromagnetism, and chemistry.
Alchemy does not violate the laws of physics, nor does it always follow them, rather it bends them as needed. It operates upon the quantum foundation from which these laws arise in the first place, via etheric energy affecting the probability of quantum events.
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 8:59 PM UTC
A real man
Remembers that stars are there
Even when blocked out
By city lights
He knows patience
Because more often
Than not
Waiting
Is
Worth it
He does not falter
With his love
He does not stutter
When he mutters
Three
Simple
Words
A real man
Need not be rich
Or giant
Or aggressive
But knows that family
Is prosperity
Love is vast
And
Compassion
Is more powerful
Than destruction
When he laughs
He is carrying me away
On plush clouds
Lightening my day
Reminding me, not to feel so heavy
You feel his heart
Beating at once
With yours
Even from far away
When he smiles
It is not forced
It is peaceful
It is effortless
You see the world in his
Gleaming
Brown
Eyes
When he cries
(Yes, a real man cries)
He is shedding away his pain
Collecting tears
To make a river
So that he can swim
He never
Allows himself to sink
When he loves
It is almost indescribable
He takes care
He is devoted
He is reliable
Understanding
Of the universe’s trials
The sad truth is
So many good men
Go unnoticed
In this world
So many are
Taken
For granted
When a girl
Realizes
She has a real man
She must decide to
Step up
And become
A real woman
Strong
Loyal
Nurturing
Loving
Honest
She gives him her heart
And never thinks twice
And if she’s lucky enough
To be given his
She treats it
Like a precious stone
And never lets it
Out of sight.
Oct 13, 2012
Oct 13, 2012 at 12:14 AM UTC
She strides down the street,
Holds that cancer stick up to her mouth,
Takes a deep breath in,
Filling her lungs with lethal smoke,
Gradually rotting away her
Interior.
Her heart beats out of her chest.
[A heart divided between two hearts.]
He’s waiting at the street corner
Between the alley of lust and the
Path of ignorance.
She sees his silhouette in the
Distance, a dark apparition.
Her heart leaps out of her chest,
Towards him,
Reaching for him,
Propelling her to him.
She had absolutely no control over the matter.
The other man she loves is home
Alone, waiting for her too.
Moments ago, he
Held her in his arms,
Kissed her goodbye,
Told her to hurry back soon.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too” - the words
Suddenly conveyed
No meaning to her.
She told him she was
Running an errand, when,
In reality,
She was running away
From him.
[*A heart divided between two hearts
Can never really be a heart.*]
His love suffocates her.
His love drowns her
In its constancy,
In its predictability.
With him, she feels like a
Bird with its wings ripped off.
Held captive, in a wire cage.
[*A heart divided between two hearts
Can never beat the way it should.*]
How can a woman with two men
Who love her
Feel so
Staggeringly
Alone?
Who will love her until their
Disintegrating hearts turn into
Simply dust.
[*A heart divided between two hearts
Can never really keep from rupturing,
Infecting the body with its own poisons.*]
So she lets her underground lover
Envelop her in his arms
And kiss her until both of their lips
Are numb,
Until they both want more.
Until they cannot restrain themselves.
His love releases her out of her
Cage, allows her to fly once again.
The passion of these moments
Will never be forgotten.
His love brings the roses back to
Her lifeless cheeks, brings life
Back to the void inside her.
And, his love allows her
To fly back home, once again,
Straight into the arms of the
Man who is her keeper.
Nov 14, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 at 3:05 AM UTC
Fear, Is a battle.
Fear is a Disease.
My disease.
Fear, puts me in places,
That I know I shouldn't be in.
Like I woke up in a dark attic, not knowing how I got there, or why.
See, it's not...things...I'm afraid of.
It's not people, or pain, or injury, or death.
Fear puts thoughts in you, that are totally and completely out of character, until they begin changing how you define yourself.
I am,
The fearful.
I am,
The untrusting.
Trust and fear come hand in hand, but purvey the opposite effects of one another.
Trust, puts fear to sleep. A silent, peaceful slumber. A place fear would rather be anyway. Trust allows you to see what is hopefully the truth in others.
Ah...you see. "Hopefully." There is that little seed of doubt.
Fear is the abusive sibling of the relationship. Always hanging over trust's shoulder, whispering worst-case scenarios in his ear.
In mine, it takes trust's confidence and gently, throws it into the nearest garbage can.
Trust is powerful.
But fear cuts deep.
When trust, faith, in someone is broken...
Well...we've all been there at some point.
When trust is broken, he half-heartedly stumbles to his bed, and stays there. Not asleep. Just, broken.
At this point fear doesn't have to do a thing.
Anytime you look inside yourself, since trust is gone, the only thing left is fear, just...sitting there.
Normally trust...gets up and brushes himself off to try again, especially with the help of friends.
But, in a few of us...
In a few of us, trust falls asleep, and disappears.
Hope, the half-sibling tries and tries to wake him up, to no avail.
Trust is gone.
Fear just sits there. Doing nothing, but doing everything.
Hope is a stubborn one, and pushes, and pushes, and pushes.
Sometimes it works.
Sometimes, it doesn't.
Fear. Trust.
They walk, hand in hand.
Toe, to toe.
I am,
The fearful.
I am,
The untrusting.
Hope, through valiant effort, keeps on trying.
Her energy is not limitless.
At times like these...
Hope, is not enough.
Trust has died.
The only way, to restore the balance,
Is for another's heart to come forth, and share their trust.
It's not fair, asking your trust to keep my fear in check, as well as yours, It just isn't.
At times like these,
I need the trust of someone,
Who is willing to share,
With one, who trusts no one.
Nov 3, 2018
Nov 3, 2018 at 8:44 PM UTC
I like using fire as an analogy, a metaphor, the punchline for most of my poetry
I often describe the heart as if it were a hearth, while its beats were the heat it radiated
I see it—sometimes a roaring flame, often times a steady bonfire, other times a dying match.
It could scorch you if you aren't careful, but it also provides you warmth and light. A sort of clarity. Comfort.
It allows some of the toughest things on Earth to become malleable and mold itself into something new
It turns the bitter into sweet, the biting cold to teeth-sinking warm, the tasteless into delicious
It allows the spirit to soar with columns of smoke to the heavens while the body becomes fertilizer for daisies
It takes beauty, and burns it black and ash to the point of no recognition
Fire is so precious, and dangerous, and essential, and beautiful, and ugly—just like this hearth of a heart
Tended and regulated well, it's the greatest discovery of mankind
Allowed to burn out quick, or spread out of control, then it's the accident that burned down London in 1666
I believe I should end this by saying: find someone who will tend to your hearth as if it were their last dying light, instead of a person who would simply roast marshmallows with forest fires
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 5:00 PM UTC
your softly breathing sleep
allows me to muse on times of love
of how you care to devise for me
such pleasures that I know not of
with softly tested link of chain
that holds me to your loving bed
to know that you are there to
shield me with your tender bonds
before slumber claims my eyes
I want to feel your hand in mine
That I may know that you
Lie close by for all our night.
I need to feel the tight confine
Of my captive self that lies within
full knowing that I am
your slave at every sunrise wake
to do your bidding here by morn
and seek your use of me in ways
that have not yet seen light of day
so you shall know me as your own
but dare I risk your wrath by want
of something in this darkest hour,
and think of all you did to me
that brought me to my frenzy here?
my fingers stray and find such wet
as you in passion full create
with desire for you now so intense
that I cannot but divide myself
and guide with care your sleeping hand
where I can ride it in my thrall
and pillow-stifle screams of need
at thoughts of being used again
your touch though sleeping forces me
into that driving ecstasy
that has become my life with you
with no other than this torment wild
that makes me use myself like this
shameless as your wanton *****
needing all you do to me
in ways that you need me to be
....Francesca Anderssen 2016
From the Francesca Anderssen collection of 101 **** Verses (Amazon)
Nov 29, 2017
Nov 29, 2017 at 6:12 PM UTC