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matilda shaye Nov 2014
sext: wrap me in the blanket that's in the back seat of your car, call her while I'm staring into space, tell her you love her out of no where
sext: uuuuuuuuhhhhh......I don't want to move in with you
sext: I love you but I'm moving a thousand miles away
sext: I love you so I'm moving a thousand miles away
sext: I'm moving a thousand miles away BECAUSE I love you
sext: I want to bite off your tongue
sext: really bad
sext: you shouldn't have told her you love her when I was already off the ledge
sext: I'll bite your lip, it'll bleed, red will pour down your mouth and your clothes and your horns will poke through and BOOM! satan
sext: baby baby BABY you turn me on
sext: especially when your actions completely correlate with what I was always told not to do
sext: I was told not to do you, but, well....ok we were supposed to hangout at a park like this is a ******* indie movie but this cop told me that park was closed? I didn't know parks ******* close? so we met in a parking lot and you mentioned how your roommate wasn't home and la la la la LAAAAA, we ended up on your living room floor and the carpet was covered in my black lace
sext: I'm wearing high heels, tall ones. I'm 5' 11 1/2", you're, ummm...something. someone. oh yeah, I'm in love with you. well, I dunno about that anymore what's love? I defined it and it said "sext: an intense feeling of deep attachment". ah, ok, got it. I now understand you, love. this was supposed to be **** ya no, like me running down the back your legs in my red high heels, sending chills through your veins and breaking all of your bones. ****** ****, right? **** I ruined it when I brought up love  
sext: uh, it's been 3 days since we've talked. I know you said like 3 months ago that we needed to "draw new lines for each other" and "figure out how to have self control and not pounce the other when we're alone and I play smashing pumpkins" but we've ****** like what, 40 times since? and you told me you loved me and begged me not to leave soooooooo....? those lines need to be erased buddy boy
sext: uhg. you don't get it. I'm tired.  got so drunk I could barely stand last night. slept for fourty minutes. then worked a thirteen hour shift. I'm sorry. give me a kiss. no? but this is supposed to be a sext?
sext: nothing you say is equivalent to a sext these days
sext: take your clothes off
sext: take your clothes off
sext: then take mine off
sext: then take mine off
sext: you wear mine, I wear yours
sext: jk babe the clothes are off we're ******* ******
krista Mar 2014
sext: it is a sweltering august night and we are caught up in the music of our own naked bodies. it is not 1969 but i feel woodstock in my bones.

sext: finger me like i am the strings of your favorite guitar, until my vertebrae vibrate with the melodies hidden in between the spaces of my spinal cord.

sext: the needle touches vinyl and i can’t get my hands off of you.

sext: our breaths quicken into quarter notes, eighth notes, sixteenth notes. we crescendo to a chorus of carbon dioxide and then begin again, panting.

sext: i’m stevie nicks and you’re tom petty. remind me that there is still a way to translate love into music. remind me that a heartbeat can be shared territory.

sext: even my name sounds like music when wound around your tongue.

sext: save your forevers for a stadium packed with screaming lights. i just want your now, amplified loud enough to shatter my stereophonic rib cage.

sext: come closer, i want to map out your body on a mix tape and press replay so many times that you can hear the smudged fingertip traces.

sext: whoever they are, wherever they are, they are singing about us.

sext: they will always be singing about us.
Mara Siegel Dec 2014
SEXT
can i see ur body
SEXT
you can see my body
SEXT
make me ***
SEXT
not tonight
SEXT
can i see ur body
Styles Sep 2016
Text me your words
let them flash across my screen
picture them I may
imagining what they mean
wishful thinking coming true
is yet to be seen
the thoughts implied
paint a beautiful scene
these letters make you smile
in person they would make you scream
all these teasing you doing now may be funny
but, when karma comes around it will be in the from of me
Kim Mar 2016
sext: there’s not enough coffee in the world to replace the feeling you gave me.

sext: by the time you read this, i’ll be too drunk to respond, but you probably won’t text me back anyway.

sext: while i was driving last night, i tried a cigarette to remember how you taste. it burned my lips and i spent the rest of the car ride trying to get the smoke out of my mouth.

sext*: all i’m ever trying to say is that it ******* ***** to feel this way.
Kim Mar 2016
sext: the last time we kissed was september 28th. do you remember? my lips haven’t touched anyone else’s since you delicately destroyed me.

sext: it’s hard to fathom the distance between us, like my brain cannot believe the sea could be 4,000 miles long, like my heart cannot believe yours would leave.

sext: i wrote an elegy to you in my poetry class. i know you’re not dead, but it kind of feels that way, even though i can still taste you with every cup of tea. i’ve washed that jumper fifty times, but it still smells like you.

sext*: my mother asked how you were and i lied. i told her i hadn’t thought about you in months when i really meant that it’s been months since i could think of anything else.
written over a year ago, still burns
Kim Mar 2016
sext: my hands are on your hips, my hands are around your neck, my hands can’t find you anymore. where are you where are you?

sext: your eyes are vast as plains and deep as canyons, and i can’t look into them anymore without falling.

sext: your faded white car is in my driveway and we are tangled inside of it, your breath hot on my collarbone. you feel like high school, but we both know we’re too old for this.

sext*: if i were an artist, i’d paint my love across your shoulder blades. i’d make a canvas of your chest. i would seep into every crevice of your sculptured frame and you’d never leave me.
Kim May 2016
sext: i can still smell your sweat on my pillow. my blankets tangle around me but they should be your legs. come back.

sext: when people have near death experiences, in those minutes before doctors bring them back to life, i imagine they hear your voice. i wonder if you’re why they think they found god.

sext*: you’re still in my dreams but my roommate is worried because i sleep all day, all night, all weekend. i cannot escape the only plane where we both still exist together.
Styles Jul 2019
Eye closed, all alone.
Staring at my phone,
Wondering if it's you calling, ready to bone.
Wondering what it would be like for you to make me moan.
Hopefully dreams became reality, and your hitting it every week
You penetrate right through me, metaphorically and literally...
your words and your touching
******* me mentally  
******* soaked, clinging to my body  
I'm fumbling my words, I don't know what to say
You consume my thoughts, in every which way
Just thinking of you in me, it's somewhat hypnotic
The way you speak, the way you sext, so methodic
nichole r Nov 2014
boy, do I miss
you
everything about
you
when you kissed
me
I felt supernovas
exploding and
you
left bruises staining
my
neck that
I
never want
to heal.
Terry Collett Nov 2013
Il dio è il miei testimone e guida, Sister Maria, the refectorian, had said, Sister Teresa remembered walking passed the refectory, touching the wall with her fingers. God is my witness and guide, she translated, feeling the rough brick beneath her fingers. She stood; turned to look at the cloister garth. Sunlight played on the grass. Flowers added colour to borders and eyes, she thought, letting go of Maria's words as if they were balloons. Ache in limbs; a slowness in her movements. Age, she muttered inaudibly. The war had taken her cousin's sons in death. Two of them. Peter and Paul. Burma and D-day. Three years or more since. She brought hands together beneath the black serge of her habit. Flesh on flesh. Sister Clare had touched. Not over much, not over much. Papa would lift her high in his arms as a child, she mused, her memory jogged by the sunlight on the flowers. Higher and higher. Poor Papa. The spidery writing unreadable in the end. She sniffed the air. Bell rang from church tower. Sext. She looked at the clock on the cloister-tower wall. Lowered her eyes to the grass. So many greens. Jude had lain with her once or was it more? She mused, turning away from cloister wall and the sight of grass and flowers. Thirty years since he died. Blown to pieces Papa had written. Black ink on white paper sheet. Flesh on flesh; kiss to lip and lip. She paused by church door; allowed younger nuns to pass; so young these days, she thought, bowing, nodding her head. Placing her stiff fingers in the stoup, she made cross from breast to breast. Smell of incense; scent of wood; bodies close; age and time. She walked to her place in the choir stall, bowed to Crucified tabernacled. Kneeled. Closed eyes. Murmured prayer. Heard the rustle of habits; clicking of rosaries; breathing close. Opened eyes. Sister Clare across the way. A nod and a smile, almost indiscernible to others, she thought, returning the same. Mother Abbess tapped wood on wood; chant began; fingers moved; sign of cross; mumbled words. Forty years of prayer and chant; same such of fingered rosaries; hard beds; dark night of soul and such. She sensed Papa lifting her high in thought at least; Mama's touch on cheek and head. Jude's kiss. Embrace of limbs and face. Il dio è il miei testimone e guida, she recalled: God my witness and guide. Closed eyes. Sighed. Sister Clare had cried; had whispered; witness and guide; witness this and guide, she murmured between chant, prayer, and the scent of incense on the air.
Sext in Latin is six. The sixth hour.
Michelle May 2015
My heart still hurts when I lie in the indent where your body once was and your hands held onto mine, but now you've found a new bed to lie in
elle Jul 2014
the red lipstick smeared on your lips makes me
want you to leave hues on every inch of me

we're sinning everyday and we'll probably go to
hell, but jesus christ i don't care because i've
already tasted heaven on your ******* hips

and ****, it's not that i love you, it's that you
taste so good you almost make me want to
(e.g)
Allania Berkey Jun 2015
Read me your favorite book in the dark, as our bodies touch.
let me feel your thoughts, your fears just as they linger off your lips as you read the words off the page.
In that spilt of a second, Hit me with a silence and deep stare, as I grasp for my breath
Tears the clothes off my body just as you teared into my mind,
Let's sit in the dark, let's share, let's feel.
Read me your favorite book and compare me to daisies.
Loewen S Graves Nov 2013
i want you
to cup the budding bloom
of my petals between your hands,
to pluck my stem from the earth
and bring me out into the sunshine

i want you
to clear the snow away
from my branches, to show me
the light i've missed
for far too long

i want you
to stand barefoot
in my river's flow, showing me
i'm not so cold as i once was

i want you
to climb up the surface
of my mountaintop, to feel
the pebbles between your toes
and stand atop my highest peak
so i can kiss your feet
with my rubble

i want you
to blow away the seeds
of my dandelion, wishing hard
for springtime to last
forever
L Dec 2014
The taste on your tongue will always belong to me.
Michael W Noland Mar 2013
It always starts like this
They beg for violence
But when they get it
They want me to quit
They think i'm a ******
But its them
It is them
Tis them
That beckon
The beast

The text message
Loewen S Graves Nov 2013
i am the hanging branches
on your willow tree,
you don't wait
for spring to come
to tell me
i am beautiful

i am the rake
pushing through
your sand garden,
smoothing out the edges,
easing through the pain

i am the fog
hanging over
your mountain range,
covering you with
droplets of water
so sweet you can taste them
long after i've gone

i am the v-shaped flock of birds
flying over your turning tides,
calming you with every brush
of my wings against the clouds

but what i really am
is a snowflake balanced
carefully on one blade of grass,
waiting for your careful steps
to pass by me, for you to lift me
off the surface on one fingertip,
for you to bring me to your lips
so i may melt in your warmth
2sided2 Jun 2013
I want to run my fingers
along the indentations
your favorite pants
left pressed on your hipbones
after a long day
pussy wept Sep 2015
i want to kiss you five times with my rootbeer mouth
pussy wept Sep 2015
i wanna love you in ways that reduce me to a lyric
Styles Jun 2016
reading your ***** text
like love letters
the words take over me
with a vendetta
of turning me on
like your body
every line gets better
picturing you in my mind
as I'm reading every line
using my fingers skillfully to reply
wishing it your body I was touching on the whole time
Saltnoon Dec 2015
Your flickering tongue
Can either be the heaven through my moans
Or the devil through my heartbreak.
pussy wept Jan 2016
if we were praying mantises i would eat your head
Your mind is an archivist's *******, I'd like to spend an indefinite amount of time there and observe the inner workings
like a astrologist, seeing your constellations of thought...
it also doesn't hurt that your stubbled jawline
seems to speak volumes, and I wonder
if it's chiseled proportions would mind me using them
as braille.
I'd like to know the caverns of your mouth
more intimately--
please whisper prose on my collarbones...
and I don't believe in love at first sight,
but maybe, love at first poem.
{to one of my followers, i was going to send this as a message but then I got scared and sometimes I'm really shy.. so this happened.}

I get infatuated really easily, in case you didn't notice.
Nadia Dec 2013
Parents sent me to see a therapist.
Therapist said you can speak freely and tell me all.
Therapist won my confidence so I opened up and told all.
Felt great having someone to share all and felt cared for.
Mind felt good and school rumors about me meant less.
Parents had a money fight and therapist quit seeing me.
Asked therapist to keep seeing me therapist said no.
Show me the money and I keep seeing you as a patient.
Hurt returned and felt like could talk to no one again.
Therapists are like prostitutes you pay to get a part of your body serviced.
I never will be married in real life.
I will settle for a net ceremony on gaiaonline with a guy I met.
He can't wait to hit it in virtual reality.
Got no real life experience in *** but learning to sext.
Getting better at it and practicing for my online wedding night.
I'm 18, I hate my parents and their ****** up lives.
Mom got home at noon from her overnight date with one of her men.
Men like my mom because she opens her legs for all men she meets on the net.
Dad likes his ****** he chats with on Facebook.
Think he cheating on his evil ***** who got with him for his money.
Dad likes them young like me and she wont be young forever.
She will be like my lonely mom ******* men she meets off personals.
Real life marriage is not in my plan.
Settling for an net marriage with a guy I met off personals.
Am I going to be like my mom?
evan Jun 2013
how you tear at my flesh how
you push your short
fingernails into my fragile stature how
you manage only
slight fragments unfathomable shards of me
of my mistakes how
i fit entirely down your throat how
swallowing my flaws is no
issue
Loewen S Graves Nov 2013
some days i am as cold
as the clouds at the heart
of the snowstorm

but i know, if there were
a fireplace big enough
to house your love for me

you'd build up the flames
as high as they could go
just to keep me warm

you'd spin yourself into thread,
knit yourself into a sweater and
wrap your arms around my shoulders

you'd pour yourself into a mug
and steam yourself hot so i could
drink you down to the core

you'd hold onto my hands, no matter
how cold they got, just to see the crack
of my smile as i thaw in your arms
Loewen S Graves Nov 2013
what i remember about summer
isn't quite sunshine, isn't beach and isn't
ice cream or flip flops or picnics

it's the way the sunlight touches your face
as it passes over the horizon, coloring you
yellow pink orange red and beautiful

it's the freedom of dry grass
and a field we could fall into,
sweaty palm to sweaty palm

in the freedom of brighter days
without responsibility to hold us down
leaving space for us to move together

i discovered you in summer, the outline
of your body came to me in light
where i could not ignore your shape

and i didn't try, where we swam together
through apartments and borrowed rooms
trying to find out who we were

only in the gap we call summer
could i find you bold and careless
waiting for me to touch you
Obama Bin Laden Aug 2012
Stupid infidel!
Transport your riches
To the lands of the believers.
For petroleum...
To make
The cellophane wrapper
That you will throw away,
When you buy a new mobile,
Even though your old one still works,
And you eat your mcdonalds,
And listen to Nicki Minaj
Infidel *****!
And drive in gas guzzle car,
As you throw the cellophane out window,
And sext your girlfriend.
And crash your car into telephone pole.
Wasting your life!

— The End —