"nuzzling" poems - Hello Poetry

Lip Biting Smiling Nuzzling Holding Nose kissing Stroking Clutching... To something that feels so real, So alive that it is as if it lives and breathes One single entity Brought bubbling to the surface By the power of one question: Did you miss me?

0

May 23, 2013

May 23, 2013 at 5:31 PM UTC

frannyfoo

Seductive Eskimo Kisses

Lip Biting Smiling Nuzzling Holding Nose kissing Stroking Clutching... To something that feels so real, So alive that it is as if it lives and breathes One single entity Brought bubbling to the surface By the power of one question: Did you miss me?

13

So delicate and ripe Fruit waiting to be picked I can smell the sweetness Before I even dive in So excited the anticipation Has me famished And us both leaking So earnest in my approach My descent seems snails pace Spreading her open wide Caressing those thick buttery thighs My moans haven't developed yet So all I can do is sigh As I plant delicate kisses along each thigh Tongue tracing the curves of her love Nuzzling my nose in her fresh mound Inhaling the intoxicating essence This meal may stick to my ribs Running my tongue along get dripping cavern Such a sweet drink Sweeter than my dream My thirst has been ignited As I envelope her between my lips I feel her pearl throb and twitch My tongue can't resist And as much as i try to pace myself I become ravenous for her nectar desperate for her taste vice grip on her hips Caught in a frenzy Oblivious to her moans, cries sighs and thrashing Her libido is no match for my palate

0

May 12, 2014

May 12, 2014 at 4:41 PM UTC

alexandria-n-brown-pitts

GORGE

So delicate and ripe Fruit waiting to be picked I can smell the sweetness Before I even dive in So excited the anticipation Has me famished And us both leaking So earnest in my approach My descent seems snails pace Spreading her open wide Caressing those thick buttery thighs My moans haven't developed yet So all I can do is sigh As I plant delicate kisses along each thigh Tongue tracing the curves of her love Nuzzling my nose in her fresh mound Inhaling the intoxicating essence This meal may stick to my ribs Running my tongue along get dripping cavern Such a sweet drink Sweeter than my dream My thirst has been ignited As I envelope her between my lips I feel her pearl throb and twitch My tongue can't resist And as much as i try to pace myself I become ravenous for her nectar desperate for her taste vice grip on her hips Caught in a frenzy Oblivious to her moans, cries sighs and thrashing Her libido is no match for my palate

32

Someday a man will look me in the eyes and I will not see myself reflected in his pupils, but the best version of myself. The tangled parts of me I’ve kept buried deep within coursing veins, pieces even I don’t understand but can be unraveled by his hands only. My ******* will not be symbols of my ability to **** but will offer warmth and support, a nuzzling ground fit for only his temples and the warm wet mouths of our children. My hips won’t just offer smooth curves of lust and temptation, but will prove strong enough to survive all the wrong paths I took in finding him. My *** won’t be bragged about in locker rooms nor silenced by sharp thrusts and stabbing bites. It will be real. That thing they call love with entangle us together in unison and we will be equals, making love to pouring rain dancing barefoot through emotional hallways of our future. Someday a man will look me in the eyes And see me as I truly am.

0

Nov 23, 2011

Nov 23, 2011 at 4:11 PM UTC

amy-lorraine

A Real Man

Someday a man will look me in the eyes and I will not see myself reflected in his pupils, but the best version of myself. The tangled parts of me I’ve kept buried deep within coursing veins, pieces even I don’t understand but can be unraveled by his hands only. My ******* will not be symbols of my ability to **** but will offer warmth and support, a nuzzling ground fit for only his temples and the warm wet mouths of our children. My hips won’t just offer smooth curves of lust and temptation, but will prove strong enough to survive all the wrong paths I took in finding him. My *** won’t be bragged about in locker rooms nor silenced by sharp thrusts and stabbing bites. It will be real. That thing they call love with entangle us together in unison and we will be equals, making love to pouring rain dancing barefoot through emotional hallways of our future. Someday a man will look me in the eyes And see me as I truly am.

25

She is a flower And I am a honeybee Nuzzling her petals

0

Sep 20, 2012

Sep 20, 2012 at 10:25 PM UTC

david-alexander-walker

Pollination

She is a flower And I am a honeybee Nuzzling her petals

3

Whispers ring in my ears, There is the faintest ghosting of claws along my back, I shudder, gasping for a hope of self respect. I watch them, Perfect little pair. Holding hands and sending covert smiles, No lip touches and nuzzling, Just being close. They're absolutely flawless in how awful they are. You know... She drove four hours from maryland alone, To see her... And you won't even drive an hour to come see me... Or return my messages... Or tell me how you've honestly ever felt. And yet? You still tell our friends about how in love with me you are...

0

Mar 23, 2013

Mar 23, 2013 at 2:51 AM UTC

smp

Jealous?

Whispers ring in my ears, There is the faintest ghosting of claws along my back, I shudder, gasping for a hope of self respect. I watch them, Perfect little pair. Holding hands and sending covert smiles, No lip touches and nuzzling, Just being close. They're absolutely flawless in how awful they are. You know... She drove four hours from maryland alone, To see her... And you won't even drive an hour to come see me... Or return my messages... Or tell me how you've honestly ever felt. And yet? You still tell our friends about how in love with me you are...

17

do you have a dark secret my darling a terrible brain instead of nice ***** pink girl things you ache for ****** insertions cutting edges menstrual swab mouth plug selfies while you pretend all is well loving Mother Mary at the church with mummy knowing deep down inside your a ***** ***** god dam the boys look good do you have the courage to admit it first to your self and then another or shall you live muzzled as you finger ***** obsessed with flying ***** and devils teeth pigs nuzzling mud and **** strewn at a *** trough you love playing with fire hot toes and **** oh yeah turn up the ****** heat your craven desires to be a **** toy and then the pleasure break me break me twisted broken little **** toy if you could only find me your Lover Linker Licker Sucker Thinker Maker Shaker Breaker ****** Burner Cutter Shooter Impaler the one who glorifies your *** hole insinuates kisses that tear who adores your midnight whimpers howls of pleasure cries for help no safe words bending bending broken mutilation gasms you smiling succubus hobbling over for another hard blow your **** drenched ******* zinging from razors play blood red rivulets falling on pretty feet while good people dream of angels you dream of big cocked men and merciless gang bangs a sweet ***** of Babylon hard justice cruelties ecstatic being beaten to death by 100 buttered ***** legs and arms piled high and **** and **** and more **** your holy trinity no you say there must be some mistake thats not you your on gods leash burying yourself in black rocks crypt of normalcy your goody goody goody time to cinch up veil of the nunnery hinge on the death mask no honey theres no gorilla in your cave crushing girlie's soul pride will out shine all til last bloom is no more then learn laments fury

0

Jul 31, 2016

Jul 31, 2016 at 1:22 PM UTC

zebrablack

Dark Secret...explicit adult ***

do you have a dark secret my darling a terrible brain instead of nice ***** pink girl things you ache for ****** insertions cutting edges menstrual swab mouth plug selfies while you pretend all is well loving Mother Mary at the church with mummy knowing deep down inside your a ***** ***** god dam the boys look good do you have the courage to admit it first to your self and then another or shall you live muzzled as you finger ***** obsessed with flying ***** and devils teeth pigs nuzzling mud and **** strewn at a *** trough you love playing with fire hot toes and **** oh yeah turn up the ****** heat your craven desires to be a **** toy and then the pleasure break me break me twisted broken little **** toy if you could only find me your Lover Linker Licker Sucker Thinker Maker Shaker Breaker ****** Burner Cutter Shooter Impaler the one who glorifies your *** hole insinuates kisses that tear who adores your midnight whimpers howls of pleasure cries for help no safe words bending bending broken mutilation gasms you smiling succubus hobbling over for another hard blow your **** drenched ******* zinging from razors play blood red rivulets falling on pretty feet while good people dream of angels you dream of big cocked men and merciless gang bangs a sweet ***** of Babylon hard justice cruelties ecstatic being beaten to death by 100 buttered ***** legs and arms piled high and **** and **** and more **** your holy trinity no you say there must be some mistake thats not you your on gods leash burying yourself in black rocks crypt of normalcy your goody goody goody time to cinch up veil of the nunnery hinge on the death mask no honey theres no gorilla in your cave crushing girlie's soul pride will out shine all til last bloom is no more then learn laments fury

102

Yesterday she was nowhere to be found In the earth or under the earth. Suddenly she is all here - a bright soon Of a tomorrow in earnest and potluck joy, embers and pyres, iris and the merriment of ochre. A star groomed by outer space - spilling wet ash And fissured out by the tailored saw of the wood. Now something is stirring in the smolder. We call it a girl. Still wowed. She has no idea where she is. Her eyes, chalcedony stones, explore ripening doomsday and an ivory moon rock. Is this the world? It confuses her. It is a great numbness. She pulls herself together, rousing to the new weight of things And to that maternal figure nuzzling her, and to her down burrow. She rests From the first infinite shock of light, the empty laze Of the curious and their curious questions - What has happened? What am I? Her ears keep on inquiring, blissfully. But her legs are impatient, Mending from so long nothingnesses Her tiny hands are restless with ideas, they start to try a few out, Swaying this way and that, Grasping for balance, learning fast - And she's suddenly upright And stretching - a giant hand Strokes her from top to toe Perfecting her outline, as she tightens The knot of herself. Now she comes to - Bold, beautiful - Argentina Over the weird world. Her nose crimson and magnetic, draws her, consciously sounding, A petite yaff, aimed towards her mother. And the world is warm And gentle and softens her daze. Touch by touch Everything fits her together. Soon she'll almost be a woman. She wants to be a Woman, Pretending each day more and more Woman Till she's the perfect Woman. The immortal Woman Will surge through her, weightless, unbound, a twirling flame Beneath silver gusts, It will coil her eyeballs and her heels In a single outlaw fright - like the awe Between mortar and firework. And curve her neck, like a crocodile emerging from the placid pond Among lilies, And fling the new moons over her shimmery banner, All the full moons and the dark moons. Booming, ineffable delight.

0

Apr 26, 2014

Apr 26, 2014 at 4:59 AM UTC

martin-narrod

Nueva Beba

Yesterday she was nowhere to be found In the earth or under the earth. Suddenly she is all here - a bright soon Of a tomorrow in earnest and potluck joy, embers and pyres, iris and the merriment of ochre. A star groomed by outer space - spilling wet ash And fissured out by the tailored saw of the wood. Now something is stirring in the smolder. We call it a girl. Still wowed. She has no idea where she is. Her eyes, chalcedony stones, explore ripening doomsday and an ivory moon rock. Is this the world? It confuses her. It is a great numbness. She pulls herself together, rousing to the new weight of things And to that maternal figure nuzzling her, and to her down burrow. She rests From the first infinite shock of light, the empty laze Of the curious and their curious questions - What has happened? What am I? Her ears keep on inquiring, blissfully. But her legs are impatient, Mending from so long nothingnesses Her tiny hands are restless with ideas, they start to try a few out, Swaying this way and that, Grasping for balance, learning fast - And she's suddenly upright And stretching - a giant hand Strokes her from top to toe Perfecting her outline, as she tightens The knot of herself. Now she comes to - Bold, beautiful - Argentina Over the weird world. Her nose crimson and magnetic, draws her, consciously sounding, A petite yaff, aimed towards her mother. And the world is warm And gentle and softens her daze. Touch by touch Everything fits her together. Soon she'll almost be a woman. She wants to be a Woman, Pretending each day more and more Woman Till she's the perfect Woman. The immortal Woman Will surge through her, weightless, unbound, a twirling flame Beneath silver gusts, It will coil her eyeballs and her heels In a single outlaw fright - like the awe Between mortar and firework. And curve her neck, like a crocodile emerging from the placid pond Among lilies, And fling the new moons over her shimmery banner, All the full moons and the dark moons. Booming, ineffable delight.

51

I like to bite, not overly hard, just enough to make one wince, perhaps, a sharp intake of breath, showing that my bite is hard enough. I so desire feeling soft flesh, tensing between my teeth, especially when rounded and firm. Neck first, working downwards, nipping into the shoulder, chewing that succulent muscle, with tight, tentative nibbles. I am even bitten in return, my pressure gauged by intent, taken from the one biting me. If teeth come hard and sharp, trust me, then so do mine, if they are loving and gentle, once again, so are mine. I work across the ******* delighting in the ***** ******* chewing drawing responses, tongue sliding over her stomach, lower, lower, down to the hips. Biting very hard into thighs, making her cry, back arching, bringing writhing gasps to die for, reaching her vulnerable centre, soothing with deep, heavy licks, tantalisingly teasing, so sweet. Suddenly, flipping her over, rough as you like, choice slaps, smarting on her plump bottom, before biting, biting, biting, taking in every curvaceous part, devouring, chomping, so yummy! I part her legs, diving between, my tongue lapping in a frenzy, deep, deep, tasting the juice, before rising, pinning shoulders, entering, gliding, slowly, surely, giving long, languorous strokes. Hips grinding, hard and deep, circling round and round, momentum building, building, firm hands gripping her hips, flesh slapping against flesh, as we match our rhythm, lunging, pounding, thrusting, exploding, on and on, more and more, until, we are spent, trembling, slowing, easing. A final twisting whip, circling the very edge, bringing smiles, a playful giggle, it tickles, so nice, I lean forward, so good, nuzzling, caressing, ah, all because, I like to bite. ©Paul M Chafer

0

Nov 13, 2014

Nov 13, 2014 at 8:51 AM UTC

paul-chafer

Odaxelagnia

I like to bite, not overly hard, just enough to make one wince, perhaps, a sharp intake of breath, showing that my bite is hard enough. I so desire feeling soft flesh, tensing between my teeth, especially when rounded and firm. Neck first, working downwards, nipping into the shoulder, chewing that succulent muscle, with tight, tentative nibbles. I am even bitten in return, my pressure gauged by intent, taken from the one biting me. If teeth come hard and sharp, trust me, then so do mine, if they are loving and gentle, once again, so are mine. I work across the ******* delighting in the ***** ******* chewing drawing responses, tongue sliding over her stomach, lower, lower, down to the hips. Biting very hard into thighs, making her cry, back arching, bringing writhing gasps to die for, reaching her vulnerable centre, soothing with deep, heavy licks, tantalisingly teasing, so sweet. Suddenly, flipping her over, rough as you like, choice slaps, smarting on her plump bottom, before biting, biting, biting, taking in every curvaceous part, devouring, chomping, so yummy! I part her legs, diving between, my tongue lapping in a frenzy, deep, deep, tasting the juice, before rising, pinning shoulders, entering, gliding, slowly, surely, giving long, languorous strokes. Hips grinding, hard and deep, circling round and round, momentum building, building, firm hands gripping her hips, flesh slapping against flesh, as we match our rhythm, lunging, pounding, thrusting, exploding, on and on, more and more, until, we are spent, trembling, slowing, easing. A final twisting whip, circling the very edge, bringing smiles, a playful giggle, it tickles, so nice, I lean forward, so good, nuzzling, caressing, ah, all because, I like to bite. ©Paul M Chafer

63

Inana Shlash How I wish I knew you I would have melted And oozed into Your shoes lingering many hours Before you finally Took a shower I would have been a blanket Embracing your back Nuzzling against the nape Of your neck Until you wandered away To a cool breeze On the deck If the gods would have Smiled on me I could have been A billion water droplets Easing into the hundreds Of thousands of pores In your silken skin Alas Our missile Blew you away And I don't know what to say Sean Hunt Windermere, December 6 2015

0

Dec 5, 2015

Dec 5, 2015 at 9:55 PM UTC

sean-hunt

INANA SHLASH (An exquisitely beautiful Syrian Dakini struck by an ugly Western missile)

Inana Shlash How I wish I knew you I would have melted And oozed into Your shoes lingering many hours Before you finally Took a shower I would have been a blanket Embracing your back Nuzzling against the nape Of your neck Until you wandered away To a cool breeze On the deck If the gods would have Smiled on me I could have been A billion water droplets Easing into the hundreds Of thousands of pores In your silken skin Alas Our missile Blew you away And I don't know what to say Sean Hunt Windermere, December 6 2015

28

You think I rub my arms over and over again because it’s a little chilly and I should have worn a sweater, but really I need to distract myself from the reflection of you playing cat’s cradle with her fingers and nuzzling your kiss into her wild hair. It’s not me who’s there even though when the moon’s face wears the night to it’s annual masquerade you’re the one who’s reaching out to me. Maybe we don’t kiss but we don’t have to, because our souls have been suspended above our heads like mistletoe and you chose a long, long time ago to hold her instead of me. And you think I’ve found recovery in the time, found separation between the summers, but I tuck my hair behind my ears and crush my lips back into my teeth not out of habit but so that I don’t scream, That was supposed to be me! That was supposed to be me. You know, too, or else you wouldn’t recall some stupid puddle memory just so I’ll cling to that last ember in the bottom of my heart and light it on fire. So I’ll be the one to remind you of the frame you cut from my soft cedar to put her in. You can turn my light down. I’ve got nothing for you now.

0

Dec 30, 2014

Dec 30, 2014 at 6:11 PM UTC

sophie-herzing

That Was Supposed to Be Me

You think I rub my arms over and over again because it’s a little chilly and I should have worn a sweater, but really I need to distract myself from the reflection of you playing cat’s cradle with her fingers and nuzzling your kiss into her wild hair. It’s not me who’s there even though when the moon’s face wears the night to it’s annual masquerade you’re the one who’s reaching out to me. Maybe we don’t kiss but we don’t have to, because our souls have been suspended above our heads like mistletoe and you chose a long, long time ago to hold her instead of me. And you think I’ve found recovery in the time, found separation between the summers, but I tuck my hair behind my ears and crush my lips back into my teeth not out of habit but so that I don’t scream, That was supposed to be me! That was supposed to be me. You know, too, or else you wouldn’t recall some stupid puddle memory just so I’ll cling to that last ember in the bottom of my heart and light it on fire. So I’ll be the one to remind you of the frame you cut from my soft cedar to put her in. You can turn my light down. I’ve got nothing for you now.

19

I have been so lucky to know a dog... To know the enduring love of mud puddles and everything pure. To know joyfulness in a greeting, and the happiness of eating a stick. To know gentleness and nuzzling, and the softness of fur blowing in a breeze. To know a wagging tail and the thumping of paws on the floor. I have been so lucky to know a dog...

0

Jul 24, 2018

Jul 24, 2018 at 9:15 PM UTC

rebecca-askew

The Lucky One

I have been so lucky to know a dog... To know the enduring love of mud puddles and everything pure. To know joyfulness in a greeting, and the happiness of eating a stick. To know gentleness and nuzzling, and the softness of fur blowing in a breeze. To know a wagging tail and the thumping of paws on the floor. I have been so lucky to know a dog...

8

Whenever people see that dog, they think of drooling, hunger and boredom, that dog bit a few people so they castrated him, and he lays in the corner all day, licking at fur, nuzzling out his pink **** with his tongue, and he's bored of being a dog, he's just bored of being alive. That dog comes to his bowl like a ward of the state, like he has to and doesn't want to. That dog plops down at the back door staring at himself in the glass and the world outside all day, and sometimes they rub his head, most times they just let him lie. That dog won't bark for anything, even when he sees that ***** across the street, he doesn't have it any more. That dog wants something now more than anything else. That dog with his ability to make you think of ropes of saliva, belly's bloated with malnutrition, and watching tv all day; that dog wants to love something the way he used to love everything. What'll happen when they finally give that dog a bone?

0

Mar 2, 2012

Mar 2, 2012 at 10:14 PM UTC

Waverly

That dog.

Whenever people see that dog, they think of drooling, hunger and boredom, that dog bit a few people so they castrated him, and he lays in the corner all day, licking at fur, nuzzling out his pink **** with his tongue, and he's bored of being a dog, he's just bored of being alive. That dog comes to his bowl like a ward of the state, like he has to and doesn't want to. That dog plops down at the back door staring at himself in the glass and the world outside all day, and sometimes they rub his head, most times they just let him lie. That dog won't bark for anything, even when he sees that ***** across the street, he doesn't have it any more. That dog wants something now more than anything else. That dog with his ability to make you think of ropes of saliva, belly's bloated with malnutrition, and watching tv all day; that dog wants to love something the way he used to love everything. What'll happen when they finally give that dog a bone?

53

She comes in nuzzling, full of salt, full of froth; lingers, indulging in sun Slowly then goes, taking some tender earth making it pure. She nudges again, this time with a shell, pouring its secrets, a hum and some cries. I hold it naively, by my ear it soothes and smothers, her perpetual low rumble. She comes in nuzzling, and parts again Our oft affair remains...

0

Aug 23, 2014

Aug 23, 2014 at 11:41 PM UTC

arhatkay

She

She comes in nuzzling, full of salt, full of froth; lingers, indulging in sun Slowly then goes, taking some tender earth making it pure. She nudges again, this time with a shell, pouring its secrets, a hum and some cries. I hold it naively, by my ear it soothes and smothers, her perpetual low rumble. She comes in nuzzling, and parts again Our oft affair remains...

13

walking slow, oh it could be called dancing crowded with Bourbon Street night people music filling the air, we stop every so often wrapped arms around each other and swayed firing up to the already hot-blood New Orleans seems to affect all the out-of-town tourists and the nights are specially made for physical reaction big easy, sin city, whatever, a city of cool coitus her willowy body pressed so close to mine her face in my neck nuzzling and groping I feel her eyelashes teasing, pleasing, my neck we're fused together with lover's super glue she broke away, her café au lait eyes dancing as she tiptoed up to speak softly in my ear in her intense and absolute Cajun accent sha, we gon stay out heah on da street all night lovely Denise didn't need to say anymore I danced her back to her pad above Galatoire's and it wasn't just to get the grime off when we showered with plenty of soap and water

0

Jan 30, 2015

Jan 30, 2015 at 7:14 PM UTC

jerry-bolton

Steamy, Sultry Night in the Vieux Carré

walking slow, oh it could be called dancing crowded with Bourbon Street night people music filling the air, we stop every so often wrapped arms around each other and swayed firing up to the already hot-blood New Orleans seems to affect all the out-of-town tourists and the nights are specially made for physical reaction big easy, sin city, whatever, a city of cool coitus her willowy body pressed so close to mine her face in my neck nuzzling and groping I feel her eyelashes teasing, pleasing, my neck we're fused together with lover's super glue she broke away, her café au lait eyes dancing as she tiptoed up to speak softly in my ear in her intense and absolute Cajun accent sha, we gon stay out heah on da street all night lovely Denise didn't need to say anymore I danced her back to her pad above Galatoire's and it wasn't just to get the grime off when we showered with plenty of soap and water

20

Ambiguous altered awareness Beginning brought back Calm close connection Dreamy delicious desires Ethereal essence ebbing Fingers for feasting Giving gentle goodness Heavenly heart harnessed Ideal images imagined Joyous juicy juxtaposition Kaleidoscope kisses kept Lasting lucid lust Muted memories meshed Nuzzling nearly **** Outright open offerings Pure pleasure passed Quality quickly quested Raw rapture revealed Softly sung song Thoughtful tender touch Unique understanding unveiled Virtuous verbal velvet Wanting, why wait? X-otic X-citment X-plored Yearning yeses yielded Zealous zesty zeal I’m addicted to you……

0

Sep 1, 2010

Sep 1, 2010 at 4:22 PM UTC

radamz

I’m Addicted to You

Ambiguous altered awareness Beginning brought back Calm close connection Dreamy delicious desires Ethereal essence ebbing Fingers for feasting Giving gentle goodness Heavenly heart harnessed Ideal images imagined Joyous juicy juxtaposition Kaleidoscope kisses kept Lasting lucid lust Muted memories meshed Nuzzling nearly **** Outright open offerings Pure pleasure passed Quality quickly quested Raw rapture revealed Softly sung song Thoughtful tender touch Unique understanding unveiled Virtuous verbal velvet Wanting, why wait? X-otic X-citment X-plored Yearning yeses yielded Zealous zesty zeal I’m addicted to you……

27

You sleep sound as I in silence trance your countenance with gentle fingertips... from the gentle slope of upturned chin or' soft plumped lips that earlier bore the taint of rouge and mine own kiss... turning my hand to tenderly back-stroke they cheek moisturised and cleaned of my heated touch... up towards now shuttered eyes in semi permanent state of rest as before fluttered and batted so as to place butterfly kisses upon my aching skin... finally the ears so unadorned by trinkets yet still bearing a trace of me my scent left my nuzzling mouth nibbling gently upon it's perfect lobe... as you sleep sound I in silence trace your countenance with sleepy eyes mirroring my smile as once more I brush back your hair and kiss your neck... sweet dreams my love and may my love bring you sweet dreams.

0

Feb 18, 2013

Feb 18, 2013 at 10:16 PM UTC

dieingembers

Sweet Countenance

You sleep sound as I in silence trance your countenance with gentle fingertips... from the gentle slope of upturned chin or' soft plumped lips that earlier bore the taint of rouge and mine own kiss... turning my hand to tenderly back-stroke they cheek moisturised and cleaned of my heated touch... up towards now shuttered eyes in semi permanent state of rest as before fluttered and batted so as to place butterfly kisses upon my aching skin... finally the ears so unadorned by trinkets yet still bearing a trace of me my scent left my nuzzling mouth nibbling gently upon it's perfect lobe... as you sleep sound I in silence trace your countenance with sleepy eyes mirroring my smile as once more I brush back your hair and kiss your neck... sweet dreams my love and may my love bring you sweet dreams.

30

obsidian profusion (from pale scalp) smothers my understanding i've lost my i looking into {your} unimaginable eye's viridian temptation envelopes my physical construct (and for all my corded sinew i am so weak to your nuzzling) please just kiss me with those unbearable lips ;innocence is the worst sin

0

Apr 15, 2010

Apr 15, 2010 at 12:38 PM UTC

patrick-wakefield-1

jessica

obsidian profusion (from pale scalp) smothers my understanding i've lost my i looking into {your} unimaginable eye's viridian temptation envelopes my physical construct (and for all my corded sinew i am so weak to your nuzzling) please just kiss me with those unbearable lips ;innocence is the worst sin

19

It's not debatable We are meant to be Indestructible Talking you and me Two peas in our pod Grooving home alone No, no, no don't you touch that telephone After nuzzling comes the cuddling I like you next to me So glad you like the dark chocolate Here's the milk with honey Let's binge watch our new fave You're all the company I could ever want Thanks for loving me We've battened up the hatches The rain ain't coming in We're in this for the long haul Three day weekends are just right, To hang out with my baby doll Morning, noon and night.

0

Oct 14, 2016

Oct 14, 2016 at 1:37 PM UTC

neville-johnson

Three Day Weekend

It's not debatable We are meant to be Indestructible Talking you and me Two peas in our pod Grooving home alone No, no, no don't you touch that telephone After nuzzling comes the cuddling I like you next to me So glad you like the dark chocolate Here's the milk with honey Let's binge watch our new fave You're all the company I could ever want Thanks for loving me We've battened up the hatches The rain ain't coming in We're in this for the long haul Three day weekends are just right, To hang out with my baby doll Morning, noon and night.

20

The fuzzy hug that never loosens its grasp Clutching as a barbed wire hugs and puppies cuddle and love, whiskers and noses nuzzling, the straitjacket loves your mind, wishes it could just squeeze the nightmares out and streaming as juices from an orange, but its might only pressurizes, the more you fight the more you hurt, bruising our precious straitjacket heart, he’s here to help us take the tasks of fettering hands just to hug and coil about us Learn to love them, the society blanket, the crazy snuggler, the bunny constrictor Crazy’s not useful and our little straitjacket cures our woes strangling us within linen cotton folds simmer our fires breaking our bronc hushing our tantrum cry It’s the mother we Learn to love Kin that keeps us in heavenly grip The Straitjacket’s here for all our insanists

0

Aug 28, 2011

Aug 28, 2011 at 12:29 AM UTC

devon-baker

Ode to Our Little Straitjacket

The fuzzy hug that never loosens its grasp Clutching as a barbed wire hugs and puppies cuddle and love, whiskers and noses nuzzling, the straitjacket loves your mind, wishes it could just squeeze the nightmares out and streaming as juices from an orange, but its might only pressurizes, the more you fight the more you hurt, bruising our precious straitjacket heart, he’s here to help us take the tasks of fettering hands just to hug and coil about us Learn to love them, the society blanket, the crazy snuggler, the bunny constrictor Crazy’s not useful and our little straitjacket cures our woes strangling us within linen cotton folds simmer our fires breaking our bronc hushing our tantrum cry It’s the mother we Learn to love Kin that keeps us in heavenly grip The Straitjacket’s here for all our insanists

18

Your lips are like pressing my lips against two clouds and embracing what is really on the inside Or maybe more like a fresh mango from a tree when I take a bite my taste buds are in the state of euphoria and the juice left evidence of it's presence around my mouth Those lips of yours are like a mother nuzzling her first born That first kiss from you were against my lips but it touched my soul and changed my perspective ... On what exactly I'm still trying to figure out but I know my perspective changed I started thinking backwards and seeing in reverse Your lips fit like the missing puzzle piece that one piece that goes in no matter which way you place it so you know it has to be right After kissing you my lips become star struck they cannot believe that they are able to embrace the grace of your mouth It's like all the passion stored inside of you is poured out when our lips meet Kissing you lets me know how it feels to be touched by an angel

0

Nov 26, 2012

Nov 26, 2012 at 11:03 PM UTC

robert-peck

Gateway to your heart

Your lips are like pressing my lips against two clouds and embracing what is really on the inside Or maybe more like a fresh mango from a tree when I take a bite my taste buds are in the state of euphoria and the juice left evidence of it's presence around my mouth Those lips of yours are like a mother nuzzling her first born That first kiss from you were against my lips but it touched my soul and changed my perspective ... On what exactly I'm still trying to figure out but I know my perspective changed I started thinking backwards and seeing in reverse Your lips fit like the missing puzzle piece that one piece that goes in no matter which way you place it so you know it has to be right After kissing you my lips become star struck they cannot believe that they are able to embrace the grace of your mouth It's like all the passion stored inside of you is poured out when our lips meet Kissing you lets me know how it feels to be touched by an angel

10

my nothings are ever-changing as yours are while we dance in our ever-static time we knot our folly and our bodies alike and revel in the ecstacy of knowing that which cannot be known, seeing that which cannot be seen nuzzling at the warm body of God like kittens we emanate life in all directions, exhaling our poisons in harmony the universe picks us up by our necks in its loving mouth, and shows us the one real truth. leaving no detail in exformation, the mother of us all kisses our foreheads and we know that all is right and good then we are white and pure, the milky sweetness of our souls exuding. we are changed forevermore, distilled in form to render remaining only our true selves we are to go with the knowledge that we shall never fade, and ripples of our ripples will outlast us a million fold

0

Jun 26, 2012

Jun 26, 2012 at 1:11 AM UTC

william-fredrick-bissette

the ego's heartfelt goodbye

my nothings are ever-changing as yours are while we dance in our ever-static time we knot our folly and our bodies alike and revel in the ecstacy of knowing that which cannot be known, seeing that which cannot be seen nuzzling at the warm body of God like kittens we emanate life in all directions, exhaling our poisons in harmony the universe picks us up by our necks in its loving mouth, and shows us the one real truth. leaving no detail in exformation, the mother of us all kisses our foreheads and we know that all is right and good then we are white and pure, the milky sweetness of our souls exuding. we are changed forevermore, distilled in form to render remaining only our true selves we are to go with the knowledge that we shall never fade, and ripples of our ripples will outlast us a million fold

24

For the words you utter I pry fervently If is mould of dust;just like me I just don't get it And finds it hard if I do How can mere words be so hominid Soft and **** I just don't get it The very sight ****** and cloack me with lewd And make my entire body sweet Like am dip in a jacuzzi Full of chocolate and sugar And lays my head on pluffy pillows As it swift to the lanes of my mind And twine my hair so brilliantly I just don't get it Who taught it my weakspots and hormones? Who taught it all those gentle touches; And ***** talks? It whispers into my ears Nuzzling my lobes and rings I just don't get it It defiles me completely When it massages the pits Of my elbow and knees As my pupil dilates and mutters"I want you"so gently I just don't get it It makes my ******* get hard,and lurch And bust my blouse I gasp for fresh air When it kisses all over me,and ends in the middle of my tighs As I drip the tears of pleasure,and moans helplessly I just don't get it It follows me everywhere Even in my bathroom When it grips my moldy towels,and gets deep within me And makes my heart beat faster than the athletes I just don't get it Not even in my sleep will it let me by When it watches over me,and get into my dreams And brews creams in my pants I just don't get it, Your words,your words Your words is a man Your words ©Historian E.Lexano

0

Apr 26, 2015

Apr 26, 2015 at 6:36 AM UTC

From the hill-top, I can see everything: rocky outcrops, stone wall-divided fields, impatient streams eager to join mother river in the valley. I graciously declare the scene satisfactory. When I get home, it is nearing time for the evening meal. Ruth is making apple pie, Maeve is talking politics (again!). The grandchildren are running from room to room. Shush, Maeve; listen to the earth breathe. Don't fuss, Ruth — I'm just pleasantly tired. Contentment, like an affectionate pet, is nuzzling into me.

0

Jul 22, 2012

Jul 22, 2012 at 2:35 PM UTC

john-r

All-clear

From the hill-top, I can see everything: rocky outcrops, stone wall-divided fields, impatient streams eager to join mother river in the valley. I graciously declare the scene satisfactory. When I get home, it is nearing time for the evening meal. Ruth is making apple pie, Maeve is talking politics (again!). The grandchildren are running from room to room. Shush, Maeve; listen to the earth breathe. Don't fuss, Ruth — I'm just pleasantly tired. Contentment, like an affectionate pet, is nuzzling into me.

10

Her aversion was never self-sought Judas claimed the reins A sublime success Over all of the Year 2k's youth An artists poetic addiction Visions hunted Instagrams compelling Disruptions Dark places Freezing ice in May Ties together future ends Nuzzling enemies Worlds ending Fire or perhaps ice? For all of lands Have frozen Cold hearts of stone Building hell She watches it Freeze over. © Sia Jane

0

Aug 18, 2014

Aug 18, 2014 at 7:04 PM UTC

sia-jane

Abomination

Her aversion was never self-sought Judas claimed the reins A sublime success Over all of the Year 2k's youth An artists poetic addiction Visions hunted Instagrams compelling Disruptions Dark places Freezing ice in May Ties together future ends Nuzzling enemies Worlds ending Fire or perhaps ice? For all of lands Have frozen Cold hearts of stone Building hell She watches it Freeze over. © Sia Jane

22

The day the calves arrived was my favourite. We put them in our shed full of straw. They were skinny and looked unbalanced on top of their long, bony legs. They smelt like a dry room in winter, of vanilla cake and damp straw and droppings. The other kids retched, but I didn't mind. I came in early every morning to feed the calves. I measured them and mixed water into powdered milk. They fought fiestily over the feeder, nudging each other crudely to secure the last few drops of milk. I put my hands out to calm them, and they latched onto my fingers with their mouthes, thrusting with their tongues, desperate for the milk I had spilt on my hands. The other kids retched, but I didn't mind. I groomed them and let them drag me around the oval when I took them for a run. Although I could barely keep up with their childlike bounding, I felt exhilarated and could not stop laughing. At the end of the day I'd lead them back to the shed and play with them. I took a pitch fork and scooped up the soiled straw for the compost and replaced it with clean straw. Of course, the smell wasn't pretty. The other kids retched, but I didn't mind. On the weekend we met outside the sheds in our overalls and boots. It was cold and early, and the teacher was late. The other kids moaned about having to be there just to get "a stupid grade". I didn't care about the grades. I would have loved to have slept in, but I didn't mind. The teacher finally arrived and put on her suit. She unlocked the shed and we were engulfed with the warmth and soft yellow light, the air scented by the sweet vanilla-like aroma from the powdered milk. I walked over to bid the calves good morning. One was nuzzling at the face of the other. She was dead. Natural causes apparently. I retched, but the other kids didn't mind.

0

Jun 9, 2013

Jun 9, 2013 at 5:59 AM UTC

kite

The calves

The day the calves arrived was my favourite. We put them in our shed full of straw. They were skinny and looked unbalanced on top of their long, bony legs. They smelt like a dry room in winter, of vanilla cake and damp straw and droppings. The other kids retched, but I didn't mind. I came in early every morning to feed the calves. I measured them and mixed water into powdered milk. They fought fiestily over the feeder, nudging each other crudely to secure the last few drops of milk. I put my hands out to calm them, and they latched onto my fingers with their mouthes, thrusting with their tongues, desperate for the milk I had spilt on my hands. The other kids retched, but I didn't mind. I groomed them and let them drag me around the oval when I took them for a run. Although I could barely keep up with their childlike bounding, I felt exhilarated and could not stop laughing. At the end of the day I'd lead them back to the shed and play with them. I took a pitch fork and scooped up the soiled straw for the compost and replaced it with clean straw. Of course, the smell wasn't pretty. The other kids retched, but I didn't mind. On the weekend we met outside the sheds in our overalls and boots. It was cold and early, and the teacher was late. The other kids moaned about having to be there just to get "a stupid grade". I didn't care about the grades. I would have loved to have slept in, but I didn't mind. The teacher finally arrived and put on her suit. She unlocked the shed and we were engulfed with the warmth and soft yellow light, the air scented by the sweet vanilla-like aroma from the powdered milk. I walked over to bid the calves good morning. One was nuzzling at the face of the other. She was dead. Natural causes apparently. I retched, but the other kids didn't mind.

8