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CJ M Sep 2016
From the depths of the ocean in your body, I always tend to find the geysers of satisfaction.
Breaking your body down in ways that make the profession of love minor to us both.
When we speak, the words flow like waterfalls that chip away the ice around your frozen soul and bring the heat of a thousand ages under frost now freed of the gymnophoria, the mental ******* that society does to it.
You are opened.
My cocoa skinned Cinderella, chocolate to the taste and caramel to the senses.
You are my forbidden treat that I indulge in with inconsistency, and when I leave, you always melt into the hands of evil habit.
Tears in the eyes of which I had only known happiness, story upon story uncovered on your emotion and the only thing I could do is ****** comfort you with the sailing a sad ocean.
I never did tell you I loved you, and now I regret it.
Maybe if I would’ve said that word, that rope wouldn’t have ended around your neck.
Maybe the wry smile of mischief wouldn’t have been replaced with the scowl of a year in love’s drought.
And with the tears you cried for me, I made my armor, an armor of strength I got from pushing you away, covering my shoulders in snake skin and play the role of deceiver, for as you know, all us snakes love the rain.
You would clasp my picture and cry as if I had died, thinking too much of me and directing me message after message after message until my inbox and voicemail were full, and I ignored you.
I pushed you to it with my promiscuity.
“No love for the loveless”, they said. “All hearts are equal in the eyes of god.”
I tried to return your call last year, but I only got the voice of your mother, maddened in disgust and rage in me and crying when she saw the caller ID with a heart on it.
She told me what happened, and I dropped the phone and cried.
This is the love rain: the rain that only emotion can inspire, for I thought I felt nothing for your innocent soul, but as it turns out, you were my everything.
And losing you to suicide was my worst mistake.
Just thinking, man. Made this for a poem contest, they said it was too long, so I'm gonna put it here
Ruby Flynn Jun 2012
if i were a word, i would be several (words that is).
i would first be callipygean, for its obscurity
and its meaning of rotund rumpage.
i would also be gymnophoria, although i would
pronounce said word with a silent g and sing
gymnophoric phrases to the world whilest
viewing the elderly through translucent lenses.
CJ M Jul 2015
Cherry candied buttercup beauty, the only word used to describe you. Sugar blossomed to perfection and throwing a brain askew.
Titilating body, from your head to your pretty toes. Makes somebody fantasize about what it is under your clothes.
Pretty words yet broken heart, too many lovers near *******. When in public all you get is a sense of gymnophoria.
Yet I'm still here, ready for love, I am a bomb, so defuse me. Yet no matter how much I love love you, you never cease to refuse me.

-thepoeticjustice
Emma Pickwick May 2014
You
You give me that feeling
Like I've been missing out on something my whole life.
You washed ashore from the bar into my doorway,
Kissed my sleepy eyes.
I wanna take you all the way,
I ran out of things to say an hour ago
But I can't lose you now.

A state of gymnophoria I'm not well adjusted to,
Sink your teeth into my soul,
Just a little,
You could be the one I've been looking for.

I think I might be in too deep already
Taking a plunge into rose colored lips
I wanna see you more than just one night,
I wanna see you tomorrow morning.

— The End —