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"cutesy" poems
if someone tells me that jealousy does not exist on this earth i will tell them to look deep inside my heart and see the jealousy that courses through my veins i yearn for someone to talk to even if it's just a random person anonymously on a random site and i yearn for a cutesy little skype conversation with a complete stranger and i yearn for people to ask me to go places instead of me asking them and i yearn for them to remember me, and i yearn for them to remember my name and that it's leeza, not lyza and that i have feelings, too and i hate this back brace and that i just want to laugh with them and i don't want them to laugh at me and i just worry so much and i am jealous because they are concerned with grades and boys, grades and girls and i just try to fit in because i am jealous.
0
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 9:42 PM UTC
jealous
Yeah I totally love being single! You can do what you want whenever you want without obligations or having to think about anyone else you can flirt shamelessly with as many guys as you like, there is no pressure to look good for anyone I love that I have all this me time where I can spend a Saturday night reading and listening to the music I like without trying to decode mixed signals in text messages I never have to depend on anyone but myself. No one is stressing me out by depending on me. I can sit by myself on the couch home alone when everyone else is out And feel completely isolated, unloved and unlovable I can feel so ugly and obsess over it I can scroll through pictures of pretty celebrities and models and girls I know online bitterly wishing I looked like them and could be like them so that maybe someone would notice me and give me a chance I can scream at the radio for playing stupid love songs I can eat ice cream and chocolate wondering why I am such a waste of space Thinking of all the guys who have rejected me and dropped me over the years Have no one to love Or who loves me No guy I can trust with my secrets and loyalty No one who needs me No one to want Or make me feel wanted To spend nights together Just talking And watching movies Being cutesy and flirty with Lie hand in hand with No one I can gush about to my friends No one I can bake for No one I can buy stuff for, just 'cause No one I can do random couples stuff with No one in my life It's pretty great. I love being single.
0
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 10:27 PM UTC
I LOVE BEING SINGLE
Yeah I totally love being single! You can do what you want whenever you want without obligations or having to think about anyone else you can flirt shamelessly with as many guys as you like, there is no pressure to look good for anyone I love that I have all this me time where I can spend a Saturday night reading and listening to the music I like without trying to decode mixed signals in text messages I never have to depend on anyone but myself. No one is stressing me out by depending on me. I can sit by myself on the couch home alone when everyone else is out And feel completely isolated, unloved and unlovable I can feel so ugly and obsess over it I can scroll through pictures of pretty celebrities and models and girls I know online bitterly wishing I looked like them and could be like them so that maybe someone would notice me and give me a chance I can scream at the radio for playing stupid love songs I can eat ice cream and chocolate wondering why I am such a waste of space Thinking of all the guys who have rejected me and dropped me over the years Have no one to love Or who loves me No guy I can trust with my secrets and loyalty No one who needs me No one to want Or make me feel wanted To spend nights together Just talking And watching movies Being cutesy and flirty with Lie hand in hand with No one I can gush about to my friends No one I can bake for No one I can buy stuff for, just 'cause No one I can do random couples stuff with No one in my life It's pretty great. I love being single.
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29
A few seconds of his face A glimpse of a biological pull A desire to push and pinch To slam and hold dear Frissoning blossom Blossoming feelings Feeling warm Feeling cold Chilling heart melting once more? - Not really More of a pull attraction caused Causing strange thoughts scattered Wait, what? - Is it you I'm wanting I'm wishing Wishful thoughts Thinking of you Your smile smiling cutesy Smiling for me (I'm) weird, (Your s)mile's weird as well Smile for me (Make me happy)
0
Feb 5, 2016
Feb 5, 2016 at 9:47 AM UTC
Untitled
So are her cutesy baby face, Her twinkling watery eyes, And her happy harpy voice. So are her happiest smiles, Her presence is truly divine, And blessings for my heart. So are her heartfelt promise, Her thought itself is healing, And even mighty is her love.
0
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 4:27 AM UTC
Gorgeous
in the most simplistic way i wanted him and sometimes i wanted all of him, every season of his mind and body i wanted cutesy notes on monday slurred i love you friday nights lazy sunday morning breakfast then again i never expected anything from him as much as i would have loved to be under his skin it was enough for my heart to simply be on his skin
0
Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 3:19 AM UTC
3:18 a.m. - crush
If I am your crush, then adore me from afar. Love me throughout the good times and the bad times. Reminisce our friendship and let it embrace you. Let it take you to that special place where you can feel alive. If I am your crush, laugh with me about the stupidest things Also, laugh at me for being weird. If anything, laugh too much. Laughter is the best medicine. If I am your crush, be the girl that I want to adore. Be cute, be adorkable. And also be clever. Be a dime a dozen. Woo me over until i’m blue in the face. That isn’t hard to do. If I am your crush, then lie with me underneath the stars and tell me you love me. Make me believe it, let those words flow from your mouth and into my soul. Take me out on dates and if we’re too lazy to go out then we’ll stay home, cuddle and watch movies. You know, cutesy stuff. But most importantly, if I am your crush.... Never let me go, because you'll stay right here, in my feeble weakened heart. Not wanting to escape.
0
Feb 16, 2013
Feb 16, 2013 at 11:57 PM UTC
If I am your crush.
well there's plenty of cutesy names to call one's children but his was 'unlovable trash' He remembered it from the time he was in the crib They held him there for longer than most parents held their kids in cribs. Though only dad called him so because he constantly claimed he wasn't his unlovable trash he had the wrong skin tone was too pale with curly orange hair and freckles but mom always pretended she didn't hear the words unlovable trash she would act as if they were never uttered and growing up he thought unlovable trash was a good thing thought it was how you show love to your loved ones "Mom, you’re unlovable trash." she was so happy to hear it she burst into tears and went into the kitchen and uncorked a bottle of wine and drank it all by herself. What an unlovable trash she was Unfortunately by the time he could pronounce the lovely words father was no longer in his life but father too was an unlovable trash
0
Oct 26, 2019
Oct 26, 2019 at 9:58 AM UTC
unlovable trash
I don't know anything anymore. I'm sick of this feeling and im sick of you. If you ever call me another cutesy nickname i will punch you in the face If you ever try to come back after you realize no one will ever love you like i have, i will slam the door Don't even think about bringing up old inside jokes, i will have forgotten them by then, ive already began to Forget about trying to fix things cuz you know we're meant to be together, you can only try to fix something so many times until its completely broken. You're insane if you think we get past this, even if i do forgive there will be no forgetting Don't bother saying "i miss you" because all i've been doing is running away, i can't wait to move away from you But the worst thing you could possibly say is " i love you" because im not completely sure yet if this wall i'm trying to build against you will still be standing. As much as i wish you could be standing on my porch right now on your knees, my door's been open too long and the best thing for me is to turn the lock. I'm done standing around waiting for this miracle that will never happen. "Love is like glass, sometimes it is better to leave it in pieces rather than trying to put it back together" There is a line between being friends and always being there for you. It is a fine line, but a line none the less. You drew it with an ink of lies and coldhearted decisions.
0
Jan 27, 2012
Jan 27, 2012 at 12:18 PM UTC
don't bother
I put on a cutesy voice because I’m the unexpected murderer of happiness. It makes more of an impact acting like a dumb blonde ***** to society’s expectations, that when I come out with ****** methods one wants to scream and run away. I’ll tell you what makes me squirm, being touched and googling fear of holes. Those pictures make me want to ***** and **** myself at the same time. Gore and pain…I can handle. But loads of deep circular imprints on the skin from leaning on things…no.no.no. I can’t. It will make me implode.
0
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 2:44 PM UTC
“trypophobia is kawaii"
My child Before you were born I use to eat peaches almost every single day and now every eve of your birth I eat a peach on August the 5th Peaches offer a little more friendship than the cutesy little straight pink flower. Bring warmth to your belly and the fruit feed more of your soul. What I mean is I am your mother, the grateful and tender feeling one. Your friend. Even when it's my end. On its own, the meaning of the fruit in this quiet tone is at once gentler and stronger in thankfulness. Gentle is the true meaning of peaches. Peach is the meaning of desire, my desire to see you succeed and I know that your true love will too. My child, I love you.
0
Jul 11, 2013
Jul 11, 2013 at 6:45 PM UTC
Peaches.
Going left a smile green* bluesy* drift___ Getting out of debt The heartedly so flowery rosy ring around Gifted box Valentine Rosy I box heads over puppy tails cozy firey Love diary doing the Cutesy Bow Wow parade Those red hot lips cascades she's... the... lie... The hue (Anchor- Blue) Gotcha  "Eyes Baby blue Clue" To cross my red heart And hope not to die The Lady's finger (Godiva)   I-spy finger* Heartless Diva The fork of the road Lies of the dead ringer He points his finger Face to two face facelift? Boom-Boom___ a car crash just a dash Her beats and hearts What a crush to her     ___left Tell me sweet lies          I box gift Oh! Yes you're___ right Like the scoundrel The damsel in distress sweet morsel I sir box like spots spread Like the (Chickenpox) Hearing lies tons of squirrels Like Botox Plastic Rascals I-box ties Hallmark, I love you lies Superman Clark Outfoxed the ballpark Little lies blue big shark Smartphone I Sir bark Red Valentine love walk People are the luckiest       I- wish Close your eyes sweet lies Sweet I-Box in Trio CEO Watching "TV FIO"   Podcast little lies turn into big lies Ballot Political list Romantic cutout card lies Tell me, Little Lies he trips Electric lips music chair Open eyes full shut lips
0
Feb 12, 2019
Feb 12, 2019 at 8:35 AM UTC
Lies I Sir Box
Born with a scorn For the body adorned With ribbons and bows And told, "How she glows!" "I am not a girl," He boldly tells the world. Born with a feeling forlorn, Feeling emotionally torn-- If I am a boy, Why am I annoyed When told not to dance, And no dresses, just pants. "I am not a boy," She says, cutesy and coy.
0
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 11:39 PM UTC
Courage
There's this guy I've met And he's nice and lovely, He's warm and fuzzy, And very lovely. We're together, I think And it's very sweet, He holds my hand And kisses my cheek. "I like you." He said And that was exciting His affection, addictive And very inviting. Fancies me, I know And turns me on, When he touches, It wont take me long. Wore his top, I did And it was cutesy, Kissed my neck, And pinched my ***** There's this guy I've met And he's nice and lovely, He's warm and fuzzy, And very lovely.
0
Dec 29, 2012
Dec 29, 2012 at 12:11 AM UTC
Lovely
Sit broken Sulkin' Softly weepin' wisps which then Withdraw themselves from all of this Fickle And fiendish You'd have my arms and legs bound tight You're sulkin' Broken Without remorse, without respite I'm nervous, Workless And functionless in all your eyes You're girlish And cutesy You give them eyes to get replies I've never- You've never? You finish thoughts and work your little fingers down my Spine -chorus- Uproot the weeds inside you Fine I'm through with being fruitless and Surprised By old attempts to change our ways Besides We're newly polished anyways We're newly painted, off the line The bitter And nameless Are working after hours to reface this And shame it It sits and spins and multiplies With frequence I feel it I feed a framework filament fire And hapless You're hopeless I'm hoping on another line- To find out what's been sanctified Who sacrificed to tranquilize And backfired by bullshittin' So now I'm sleepy saunterin' To see what life's like on the other side (Chorus) -breakdown- If we cared We could whisper cloudy whiteness where there Used to be only filth and flies I'm sick of sentimentalism Sick of sinking in I'm feeling fine. -chorus- Uproot the weeds inside you Fine I'm through with being fruitless and Surprised By old attempts to change our ways Besides- We're newly puffed up anyways I've walked the line from Z to A We're freshly painted hypocrites At least this time I won't be so surprised. -fin-
0
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 11:26 PM UTC
Surprised
If cowboy hats had ear muffs, maybe they would talk more, though they would hear less., caution tossed to the winds howling. Not for them the hairy skins of animals on their bare hair, too much respect for their sojourners. Wooly caps are for sailors, The ones with cutesy ears hanging down to the shoulders, popularized by geeks, adopted by stylish teenage girls, well, they would rather be frostbit. Cowboys, the silent type, but never quiet, their thoughts are their stories, eyewitness accounts, never told under oath, of the truth about life and death, in the Great West. So, no ***** for them lest they not hear the noisy silences, cries of the frigid Great West.
0
Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 11:29 AM UTC
If cowboy hats had ear muffs
the world is a dryer. if there is a washing machine section within our universe, I am unaware of it. I don't work that rotation. I work the dry shift. tumble low heat, fluff, repeat. repeat. in almost every dryer known to mankind, some contraption serves as the lint trap. collect all of the lint and excess laundry fluff as it goes through the dry cycle. in this world, in this universe; if the human race consists of the articles of clothing in the dryer, I am the lint trap. it sounds almost cutesy when phrased like that. dryer lint is fluffy and soft and the combination of all the different fibers of the various clothing. I'm the trap, though. the filter. I must absorb and filter the excess fiber from every article of clothing. if the entire human race is in this dry cycle; I absorb and filter their raveling ends. it's ******* exhausting. here's a better analogy. have you ever had your stomach pumped? they handle this differently now, but when the doctors, nurses, and staff working in the ER would get a patient who swallowed an entire bottle of ****** with a ***** chaser; or a new mother's young son swallowing her bottle of sertaline, they would get to work. one hand activated charcoal, the other hand with a large suction tube. activated charcoal is what neutralizes the bottle of ****** or the bottle of Zoloft. the charcoal can absorb **** near anything. it pulls out stains and poisons, neutralizing and absorbing. this is where the tube comes in. the charcoal is harmless on its own, but the ER staff is in a hurry to console (get rid of) the screaming mother; to move the seventeen year old girl with the ****** ***** chaser to the psychiatric unit, and continue their night. insert the long tube to suction the charcoal out of the stomachs of the two children. this is often haphazardly shoved down the back of the throat, down the esophagus, reaching the stomach. flip the switch, undo what peristalsis cannot. it's not pleasant. gagging, rough, foul, I've been told. the body is working in reverse order. vomiting may be easier. the suction tube is fighting the natural flow of the body. the esophagus is attempting to push everything down down down, and the tube is fighting back. I am the activated charcoal found in every ER across the globe. I absorb the poisons that human beings put into​ their bodies. I can pass someone on the street, and my activated charcoal soul absorbs the negativity, the poison, the hatred, the emotional chaos from that individual. I often wonder if the person feels lighter, noting the absence of the venom that once crippled them. I never ask. I just keep my gaze down and ignore the tempest ensnared within my activated charcoal lint trap. there are others like me. activated charcoal hearts, lint trap souls.
0
Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 3:28 PM UTC
the world is a dryer
the world is a dryer. if there is a washing machine section within our universe, I am unaware of it. I don't work that rotation. I work the dry shift. tumble low heat, fluff, repeat. repeat. in almost every dryer known to mankind, some contraption serves as the lint trap. collect all of the lint and excess laundry fluff as it goes through the dry cycle. in this world, in this universe; if the human race consists of the articles of clothing in the dryer, I am the lint trap. it sounds almost cutesy when phrased like that. dryer lint is fluffy and soft and the combination of all the different fibers of the various clothing. I'm the trap, though. the filter. I must absorb and filter the excess fiber from every article of clothing. if the entire human race is in this dry cycle; I absorb and filter their raveling ends. it's ******* exhausting. here's a better analogy. have you ever had your stomach pumped? they handle this differently now, but when the doctors, nurses, and staff working in the ER would get a patient who swallowed an entire bottle of ****** with a ***** chaser; or a new mother's young son swallowing her bottle of sertaline, they would get to work. one hand activated charcoal, the other hand with a large suction tube. activated charcoal is what neutralizes the bottle of ****** or the bottle of Zoloft. the charcoal can absorb **** near anything. it pulls out stains and poisons, neutralizing and absorbing. this is where the tube comes in. the charcoal is harmless on its own, but the ER staff is in a hurry to console (get rid of) the screaming mother; to move the seventeen year old girl with the ****** ***** chaser to the psychiatric unit, and continue their night. insert the long tube to suction the charcoal out of the stomachs of the two children. this is often haphazardly shoved down the back of the throat, down the esophagus, reaching the stomach. flip the switch, undo what peristalsis cannot. it's not pleasant. gagging, rough, foul, I've been told. the body is working in reverse order. vomiting may be easier. the suction tube is fighting the natural flow of the body. the esophagus is attempting to push everything down down down, and the tube is fighting back. I am the activated charcoal found in every ER across the globe. I absorb the poisons that human beings put into​ their bodies. I can pass someone on the street, and my activated charcoal soul absorbs the negativity, the poison, the hatred, the emotional chaos from that individual. I often wonder if the person feels lighter, noting the absence of the venom that once crippled them. I never ask. I just keep my gaze down and ignore the tempest ensnared within my activated charcoal lint trap. there are others like me. activated charcoal hearts, lint trap souls.
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21
They shared a mutual hatred for people that disclosed unsolicited details about their relationshits. Even though they spoke everyday goodbyes never got easier. brb, gonna sleep for eight hours. What will you dream of? You want me to say you, and I want me to say you, but I have no control over my dreams. You're only reserved for my daydreams. They exchanged a plethora of photographs. #thighhighThursday Send. I lIkE yOuR sOcKs. It wasn't long before they perfected the art of taking selfies in the shower. Send. LeT's PlAy NaKeD tWiStEr. Sometimes they broke the unspoken rules they'd agreed to. The rules that banned them from getting too cutesy; or twee as he liked to put it. Cuddling is just hugging laying down. For much longer. Cuddling is just horizontal hugging for a long time.
0
Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 12:59 AM UTC
An ** and an XY.
who will read aloud my poems when I'm gone? that old unfriended thot, a nagging merry query was for awhile forgot, put on the back of an upper shelf, where dust motes and mites fear to trend thoughts, that I thought I had dispensed with, letting time build illusionary wry walls, fooling World Trade Center tall morose forlorn, pensiveness of red ant armies, incapable of black marker redaction, there is always one a lingering malingerer a sole fado singer, playing woeful jazz in the Quarter on an empty emoty street, dressed and guised as the soul of a solitary cancerous cell "survivor" cur overlooked, biding time, the surgeons gone, the drugs flushed, radiation burning no more begins then the unholy trilogy cycle worn out, overused... invasive categorically relentless maybes, what ifs, then oh goddamnnotagain because believed, on knee, I oathed that loathed, raven nevermore, ought that cracked door would be open yet like the New Orleans levee aged locks hurricane succumbed overflowed, overcome, keyholed, infiltrated, falllen to the enemy, mes enfilade, rumps up the black flag of surrender brain sneers periodically, like every other minute, ok, second, coyly asking penny for your worthless thoughts? just when you believed "no mas" was a prayer that had been heard, teeth kicked in, body snatching hordes and boors bad boys and ****** sitting high in the saddle again, grinning torturous tarty smiles at who, at you, fool! you're as alone in that place as insufficiently as that impoverished overused word can ere convey the nagging realization that when asking no one answers when your thinkings perish you your cutesy sweatshirt reads last standing poet alive, stabbed ded by awful-truths, you failed and all the black cats, have fled the neighborhood, just when need was greatest who will read aloud my poems when I'm gone, has been silently answered by silent applause, the last theater goer shuffles out, and turns and extends his middle finger his review leaves a singular impression, he looks familiar, gauntly ghost, he has accompanied me always and his finger is his triumphal parting shot
0
Aug 15, 2014
Aug 15, 2014 at 5:25 PM UTC
who will read aloud my poems when I'm gone?
who will read aloud my poems when I'm gone? that old unfriended thot, a nagging merry query was for awhile forgot, put on the back of an upper shelf, where dust motes and mites fear to trend thoughts, that I thought I had dispensed with, letting time build illusionary wry walls, fooling World Trade Center tall morose forlorn, pensiveness of red ant armies, incapable of black marker redaction, there is always one a lingering malingerer a sole fado singer, playing woeful jazz in the Quarter on an empty emoty street, dressed and guised as the soul of a solitary cancerous cell "survivor" cur overlooked, biding time, the surgeons gone, the drugs flushed, radiation burning no more begins then the unholy trilogy cycle worn out, overused... invasive categorically relentless maybes, what ifs, then oh goddamnnotagain because believed, on knee, I oathed that loathed, raven nevermore, ought that cracked door would be open yet like the New Orleans levee aged locks hurricane succumbed overflowed, overcome, keyholed, infiltrated, falllen to the enemy, mes enfilade, rumps up the black flag of surrender brain sneers periodically, like every other minute, ok, second, coyly asking penny for your worthless thoughts? just when you believed "no mas" was a prayer that had been heard, teeth kicked in, body snatching hordes and boors bad boys and ****** sitting high in the saddle again, grinning torturous tarty smiles at who, at you, fool! you're as alone in that place as insufficiently as that impoverished overused word can ere convey the nagging realization that when asking no one answers when your thinkings perish you your cutesy sweatshirt reads last standing poet alive, stabbed ded by awful-truths, you failed and all the black cats, have fled the neighborhood, just when need was greatest who will read aloud my poems when I'm gone, has been silently answered by silent applause, the last theater goer shuffles out, and turns and extends his middle finger his review leaves a singular impression, he looks familiar, gauntly ghost, he has accompanied me always and his finger is his triumphal parting shot
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111
I can picture You embeded in my skin...tattooed sin...As I flex you move...a gyrating women...grip closer to me...speep ink into my viens...Send your poison to my brain...make it say your name...stamped by your mission to own me...you control me...grab me by the horns and hold on, bull ride me...and constipate my body so i'll never bull **** you...brand me with the emblem of beauty...its your duty, to use me as your mirror on the wall to get cutesy...Im enchanted...when Im branded...fantasized when Im alone..but your embeded in my skin...so we'll always be at home...and the fairest in the land will have a blackend tone...cuz even tho snow is white...it still sparkles when its dark at night...
0
Sep 25, 2012
Sep 25, 2012 at 7:17 AM UTC
tattoo
Dear long-lost lover: Don't be such a pain I've got plenty to gain From the way I swing my hips To the seductive words that pass my lips People don't say I have a natural charm to be nice Oh no, I am well aware of how to roll my dice I am purposely everything you dream of Of course, I became that after we fell out of love You wanted a woman who would show her body So I learned how to do that, without being gaudy You wanted a woman with a cutesy face So I learned how to do that, with style, class, and grace You wanted a woman who would show you no pity So I learned how to be kind yet heartless, quiet yet witty Finally, you wanted a woman who would bend to your will But that was one part of your model woman I didn't want to fill Because you also wanted a bit of rebellion So I became your most sought-after little hellion Oh darling, I remember how you screamed when I turned you down Oh darling, I remember how you pouted with your idiotic little frown You couldn't fathom how I didn't want you back After you broke my heart and made me crack I became your model girl because I wanted you to suffer I wanted to show you how you'd only made me tougher So go ahead and call me anything you please Because I'll be telling every girl how you only want them on their knees The truth is simple: I don't care anymore Go ahead and call me a **** or a ***** I've accomplished my goal of becoming what you desire Just so I can watch your burn in your own selfish fire
0
May 19, 2013
May 19, 2013 at 11:26 PM UTC
Dear Long-Lost Lover
I laid there thinking of you Dreaming of you To only open my eyes and see that it was you Breathing on my neck In order for me to breathe you in Taste your sweetness from the inside Your innermost feelings penetrated my skin, Through your breath. And the way the sun looked behind your head Shining, gleaming, like steam from a *** Oh yes, you still make me sweat. And your sweat mixed with mine is like every great love potion combined Concocting sweet memories and love sick tendencies Making me want you, To tell me how you love me. And the way your hands fit over mine, like perfect stencils of art made because even then our bodies together make the most beautiful shapes and not in the dirtiest of ways, but rather the innocent the way we cuddle, hug and love its simply amazing the way you trace the hairs on my head, the hairs on my neck the hairs on my arms all the way down the nonexistent hairs on my leg, only for you so that the ride down is smooth smooth like your words that flow through my ears and tickle my nerves in every neuronal-space that transmit through every fiber of my body and speak to every muscle telling me to tense when I hear you whisper, “chill”. And every time your fingertips imprint themselves on my skin I know that those will forever be mine, for those fingertips are forever yours on me On me I find your scent, your sweat, your fingerprints, your love Is all around me, I can feel it when you align your cheeks with mine. The way you rub your stubble filled chin through each dip and dent of my chin neck and chest. The way your breaths somehow coincide with mine. We are one and I realize the moment that I open my eyes It’s not some dream my child-like, little girl, cutesy self is making But those are your eyes I look into with the sun shining down And your arms that hold me tight And your breath that I long to feel at night.
0
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 5:33 AM UTC
Longing
I laid there thinking of you Dreaming of you To only open my eyes and see that it was you Breathing on my neck In order for me to breathe you in Taste your sweetness from the inside Your innermost feelings penetrated my skin, Through your breath. And the way the sun looked behind your head Shining, gleaming, like steam from a *** Oh yes, you still make me sweat. And your sweat mixed with mine is like every great love potion combined Concocting sweet memories and love sick tendencies Making me want you, To tell me how you love me. And the way your hands fit over mine, like perfect stencils of art made because even then our bodies together make the most beautiful shapes and not in the dirtiest of ways, but rather the innocent the way we cuddle, hug and love its simply amazing the way you trace the hairs on my head, the hairs on my neck the hairs on my arms all the way down the nonexistent hairs on my leg, only for you so that the ride down is smooth smooth like your words that flow through my ears and tickle my nerves in every neuronal-space that transmit through every fiber of my body and speak to every muscle telling me to tense when I hear you whisper, “chill”. And every time your fingertips imprint themselves on my skin I know that those will forever be mine, for those fingertips are forever yours on me On me I find your scent, your sweat, your fingerprints, your love Is all around me, I can feel it when you align your cheeks with mine. The way you rub your stubble filled chin through each dip and dent of my chin neck and chest. The way your breaths somehow coincide with mine. We are one and I realize the moment that I open my eyes It’s not some dream my child-like, little girl, cutesy self is making But those are your eyes I look into with the sun shining down And your arms that hold me tight And your breath that I long to feel at night.
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35
Some lines written for cutesy The mushy heart as seems as tulsi The one whose divine is heart Her comely smile work as art Few words describe my Angel The cutey smile make her archangel My lovely sister you are my queen Your touchy love make us preen All glory comes to your feet As I wish my heart beat The words speak some special today The birthday wishes coming to say Don't know how's our affection At a long distance we still have an affection My sister I touch your feet The love I feel in every heart beat My angel I am your little brother The honey you give me as mother There's something happening in sky As you smile all birds so high The last line has some special to say Sending my love my prosperity to your way I am not a poet to say these lines But my sister love make it more closer to mine
0
Aug 18, 2017
Aug 18, 2017 at 4:47 PM UTC
My sister birthday
Don't come round here flirtin' If you haven't got the game If you can't deliver I don't want to know your name Sending drinks and cutesy smiles Don't go too far round here You'd better send at least two shots And at least a jug of beer You'd better bring your "A" game buddy Cause sometimes it gets bloody Don't leave your "A" game on the shelf Cause you'll go home all by yourself You'd better give as well as get Now you're in the south Our cougars here aren't like those up north Our girls ...they give good mouth They've heard it all a million times Don't come with a cheap line They don't drink things with flowers in And they don't drink cheap boxed wine You'd better bring your "A" game buddy Cause sometimes it gets ****** Don't leave your "A" game on the shelf Cause you'll go home all by yourself They're barracudas in this bar They've got teeth, and they will use 'em So, buddy you'd best be on your game Or you won't go home a twosome Our women here get treated special And son, they're mighty proud Look at someone elses woman And they get mighty loud You'd better bring your "A" game buddy Cause sometimes it gets bloody Don't leave your "A" game on the shelf Cause you'll go home all by yourself
0
Aug 13, 2013
Aug 13, 2013 at 11:43 PM UTC
You'd better bring your "A" game (edit)
I'm afraid I'll write this all too fast because of how eager and nervous I am in this moment. Because you are a million miles away it seems, but all I have to do is say your name and suddenly you are...here. I never knew how much I needed you until I spent months hearing from you, but never hearing you talk to me face to face. But my dear, I long for the nights where I will receive an out-of-context text from you at 2 am only because of the timezone difference. My hands sweating for no real reason. I guess I really am trying to tell you I love you. But I'm always to cutesy about it. Always saying "love ya!" in a text, but I want to say it as though it means so much that the universe will get my words straight to you. I've never loved anyone more than I love music or God, but I want to come close to that sometime soon. I don't need a single day to go by without you knowing that you are so beautiful. And people love it so much they almost hate it. It is that genuine. I'm sorry I can't always think of you and remember that I am also a living, breathing person. I forget myself far too often in the presence of so many good people. Or I guess... People who are too good to have me in their life sometimes. You're probably asleep right now. Now who's up at 2am? Ahaa.... I'll just be here. I love you too much to wake you up. So just sleep a while. I'll see you soon. Or at least I hope so. Oh! I almost forgot to say this... In case you forgot. I love you.
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Apr 20, 2018
Apr 20, 2018 at 3:55 AM UTC
I want to tell you how terribly I miss you