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Slide up, unclip, pull
Discard, repeat, now the belt,
I am almost bare.

You are almost there
Just one thing to go, is it
too much? No - guess not....
Payton Hayes Mar 2021
“Unbind
Unclasp
Uncover
Uncurl
Unfurl
Undo
Unfasten
Unfold
Unhing­e
Unhook
Unleash
Unlink
Unmask
Unroll
Unveil
Unclip
Unlace
Unzip
­Untie
Unbutton
Unlock”

“Undress.”
“Understood.”

Unravel
This poem was written in 2020.
Carolin Nov 2014
Shivering bodies
quivering lips. Pants
unzipped and dropped
down low below the hips.
This is it he says. Standing
by the edge of his bed.
Observing me with his
beautiful eyes touching
me between the thighs.
Im on the edge of high she
says and you're my angel
in disguise. While she takes
off her dress his hands
caress her neck her flesh
her legs and every inch. Hands reaching out for her bra
to unclip. How do you feel
he says. Naked , exposed ,
wild as can be and free she
replies. Take me into your story write me down on your pages
let me stain your soul with the
ink of love. Wrap me in your
arms till the day i die she
says while he traces her
curves and reaches her
heart. Promise to never
tame me and keep me wild
as she kisses the back of his
neck. I'll love you for an
eternity and we'll explode
together like the stars up in
the galaxy* ~
Madison Lee Dec 2014
It's 12:25 in the early morning,
The stars are majestically prancing around in the heavenly sky.
Never was there a gigantic, obese sign forewarning,
Attempting to grab my attention seeking eyes.
Screaming and shouting, "He's just a beautiful boy with a devil heart."
Would a young, innocent soul have the conscientious mind to spot such a simple flaw?
Maybe, if I wouldn't have been so knee deep in trying to restart,
I may not have ever let your rough, graceful hands unclip my bra.
It's now 12:39 and I'm slowly remembering how to forget you,
All I can slightly acknowledge is scratching your bare back and moaning your aesthetically crafted name.
Don't ask me to bid you adieu,
Because I only have my wondering heart to blame.
JK Cabresos Jan 2019
Every moment
when I unclip your bra,
the wrong
feels wonderfully right,
the beautiful scenery
of your body,
perfectly naked,
turned me to start
kissing and sniffing
your neck.
Copyright © 2019
Terry Collett Mar 2013
There will be the placing
on of hands. She knows
that, he has done that
before. There will be the

unbuttoning of her blouse,
the slow undoing, one
button eased through
the hole. Then he will

pause, breath in deeply,
then proceed with the
removal of her blouse,
each arm in turn taken

out, then he will place
the blouse on the chair.
Here she will smile, hide
her unease. Then he will

unclip the bra from behind,
she will feel fingers moving.
Her ******* will fall free
once he has taken away

the bra. He will then lay it
somewhere out of her sight.
Next he will take an intake
of breath; she will sense it

on her back, a warm breeze.
Then he will unzip her skirt,
the zip going down over her
***, his fingers will linger here,

she will feel them, she will
then sigh. Next he will let
the skirt fall to the floor,
trapping her legs in the cloth.

She will step out, one foot
at a time. He will lift her skirt
and put over the back of the
chair and let it hang there.

After a short pause, he will
place his fingers inside her
silk underwear and take down
slow, as if unwrapping some gift.

Next she will step out and pick
them up and place on the chair.
Just her ankle stocking will be
left remaining. She will stand

as he walks around her, his
eyes moving over her, grey
slugs, damp and smooth. Then
he will go. Nothing quite as it

may seem. Each night he will
come, each night the same dream.
I conquered every feeiing that ever felt real to me and
knelt at the feet of statues looking for deliverance,

Blood on her wings but an angel flies in and sings to me,
I cling to the tin foil

In the tack room
satin and a whisper of whips.


I unclip from the apron and try to get a game on
But the statues refuse to okay my play.

and she walks like she's sinking
on the brink or is it me thinking it's her thinking it's me?

Montmartre
next stop Kama Sutra
all aboard
tickets please,
fasten your seat belt

It wasn't that at all
It just
felt like it.


But when you start to feel and cease to kneel it all becomes incredible,
I'm a thousand lira nearer to Pisa,
she's a lot closer to me.
Brian A Whatcott May 2015
I stopped off at the bank to say
    'how are you' to the folks who try
   their hand at the day care of my
dollars and the quarters of my pay

I pushed back on a tall gray day,
   the clouds swirl by in  the lead gray sky
and I fly over the dry sand ox bow
that runs and twists in a necklace below

next,  by a purring Toyota, its light
glowing blank at a barn wall looking glass
Unclip and the gate still open in hind sight,
and I am through onto the grass

no paint, no sorrel no grizzled grey hinnie,
    I walk through the trees tracking the sandy scuff
    out and up and across the overlook bluff.
I hoot n call but never a whinny

There's a house there with a good wire fence
    The trail  turns east over the rough brush heath
and on and on and across to a fence,
   worn neatly down to a barbed wire wreath

and across more brush with a fresh hoof print
til the track grows faint but never a hint.
And I stoop where nobody sees me in repose
    thankful a handkerchief  wipes more than noses,

So back in a sweaty shirt
    to the tree line, and there are the horses
   fresh hoof tracks on the truck
where  donkey and  goat flirt.

    bowls of grain and sweet feed to make amend,
a handful of wafers to lighten the offering
And I brush off what  the fly spray left me
   of dead  on the back of my old friend

And I comb out his handsome mane,
   and pull out his short gold tail
and throw up the heavy brown saddle
and think again of my good fortune
the pretty leather saddle

This time though he stop
   and consider his options,
press on through the scary wind break
where turkeys are known to run in conniptions

    giving the evil eye to the pile of hay netting
    the field gate that groans  in the wind.
   landlord's engine spinning quietly
the lights burning where nobody looks

Just a word or two, and we are galloping back,
    easier to urge when returning to the friendly  herd,
And  off to the west where the house that's for sale is
and past the dead mans duck pond,
home is where the lunch is,
   and another perfect holiday.
Carolin May 2015
Breathe me in. Like the
scent of blooming flowers
in spring. Take me to a
secret place where the
law can not find us. I'll
show you what love feels
like. We'll taste passion
and lust on the tip of our
tongues. Press your body
against mine while we kiss
behind your bedroom door.
Whisper i love you as your
hands touch my hips , lips and
unclip my black lace bra.
Show me the light
cause i've been trapped in
a dark metaphor for so long.
Teach me how to breath
because my lungs haven't
been working from all the
weights they've carried all
along. Undress my soul before
you lay your hands on my
skin. We can tell each other
stories before we begin to
explain them in the form of
gentle love. Let me curl against
your chest. It's been years
since my soul got to experience what's it like to rest. Let me
press my lips to your neck.
And i promise to write you
****** poetry. The kind that
your eyes will desire to
read while you sit alone in
bed with your legs widely
spread while its dark. Love
me for what i am. Love the
small broken little girl that
exists under this skin. Love
the ashes of my heart. For
it's been burnt too long. Hug
me tight through the night.
Because I need you by my
side. Calm the tempest i have
in my mind and tell me a lullaby tonight while i watch the
stars sparkle in your eyes
under the nights black
sky* ~
Penny Laine Jun 2018
I once dreamed to be wed in white.
Angles gleam, as I pure as sunlight.
Oh but temptation surely put up a fight.
One that drained all my might.

The darkest cloak will drape around.
Dead flowers and fire for the fate i’m bound.
Tis not a dove but a crow that sound.
Yet there be not a regret found.

Hear the bells of death ring.
No care for sin feels a wonderful thing.
The touch he gives enough to unclip my wing.
A hymn of death i’ve forced the choir to sing

I dreamed once to wed in white.
Though now it will be darker than night.
For the grace of sin is quite the sight.
Broken Pieces Mar 2020
Bad days will always be the norm,
I promise it's normal to be in a storm.
But when you get to the eye of it all,
Your worry begins to fall.
You are able to be at peace with all things,
You are able to unclip your wings.
You know the worst is only yet to come,
But you won't be the one to succumb.
The storm is coming fast,
But with the peace you know it won't last.
Bad days will always come around,
But they do not define you, you don't have to be drowned.
Georgia Gordon Jul 2015
Take my hand and let me lead you through the garden of flowers
Lay your head down in the daisies and look up to the dancing dogs and laughing monkeys in the sky
Raise your hand to feel the air rush by

These are the times of our life that allow us to rest our weary hearts and minds
To unclip our baggage and though it still lies beside us we are light and alone for a short while
For all the troubles and challenges of life there are moments of calm
There are moments of quiet
They are the raft in the middle of a vast ocean and although you know it will eventually break and float away
It will carry you through a few waves

Take my hand my friend and let me lead you through the garden of flowers
Lay your body down next to mine and in the breeze and the sun beams let us be quiet
See the sky and hear the grass sway
Let time be but a memory of a past life that has been mislaid
Elemenohp Aug 2019
Come out now, I beckon and coax.

Turmoil; twisted and tethered,
like tendrils on my subconscious.

They grip.

It's my only goal to make them slip, unclip, and submit.

I am to wash away all negativity and dismay, to make my world anew by light of day.

In my mind, my soul, my body, my whole; these things I will not let stay.
Mamolefe Feb 2021
A chaos has been birthed inside of me.

It’s Ghosts, playing hopscotch.
My Heart, fighting against lung.
The Blood, making out with startdust.

A destiny wishing to reform itself
trying to recognise its name
smile at its reflection.
A natural disaster beginning its annual cycle inside of me.

Inside of you.

Like how Summer recognises Autumn’s leaves,
it’s twiggy branches letting go of its maroon mascara.
Stripping itself bare of past fantasies and love.

An internal hazard that dances for the Gods inside of you.
The ones yet to be discovered.
The ones yet to be explored.

So, retract
unclip your wings and reopen your cave of comforting darkness so as to rediscover the light again.

Soon...
It’s soon...
You’re soon.

Soon, my love.
#transition #change #reflection #lost
Lucanna Apr 2022
You thumbed mute on my mouth
Pushing buttons on all that I shared, so vulnerable
Stapled words on the inside of my molars
You with your silver gun
Metal bent ends punched through enamel stating:

CRAZY
OVERREACTIVE
BAD MOM
WORTHLESS
FAILURE OF A WIFE
DESERVING OF BEING CHEATED ON

I take tongue and unclip your frantic grasps at control
I push my lips like a dagger through your thumb
You will not hold me down any longer
The women I come from and the woman I am
Is stronger than any man of your men
Pathetic, you cling to your photographed ****
While I wake up clinging to my core, lovesick
The mask is unveiled
My daughter, so pure
As much as you try you won't turn me frail
I will always endure.

The sun as my witness, my heart rising up in my throat
Reminds me that my truth can never be evoked.

— The End —