Posted in Alcohol, bpd, Erotica, mental health, Mysterious, poetry

Cranberry Lips

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Cranberry lips leave a thin line around the rim

He doesn’t remove it- thinks it’s hot and I’m fine

Wet lips explore his mouth and he tastes me like sweet candy

Relishing the intimate moments we’re daring to share

In the quiet of the moonlight we take our time to touch

To feel his large hands cupping me it’s almost. too. much.

Love or lust? Does it matter? Do I care?

His dark eyes and warm tan body makes me want to sin

Suddenly we are skin to skin and my hand rubs up and down him.

Posted in Erotica, Mysterious, poetry

Curiosity

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Photo Credit: http://65.media.tumblr.com/

Bending down on my knees looking through the keyhole at their secretive display

My curiosity overcoming any rational thinking as only Primitive Brain remains

Erupting flames from their fire catch me off guard and I fall back with a thud-mouths frown

Only slightly interrupted all I see is the red, curly hair on her head bobbing up and down

Trying to mask my need and wanting while watching this treasure trove of pleasure

I hear the doorknob turn as I fall face first into their storm

Though I’m caught red handed and embarrassed by my distaste-

He raises me from the floor, grabs my waist and shuts the door…

 

Posted in Mysterious, poetry, Tragedy

Cause and Effect

 

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Photo Credit: http://m.blog.daum.net/_blog/_m/articleView.do?blogid=03X1h&articleno=15222229

Blending memories with the weighted glare of her disconcerted eyes, I wonder…

Was it my fault he left her for another woman as he gripped her son good-bye?

The drama builds in my terminally odd mind filled with casual complacency

From the ledge I look up at the lucky stars and feel regret rain down from the sky

When suddenly I turn around, it’s her.

As I tumble to my death, I let out a helpless cry.

Posted in Mysterious, poetry, Tragedy

The Meadow

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Photo Credit: http://wallpaperstone.blogspot.com/2013/04/hd-wallpaper-meadow.html

I’m breathless, from running in the meadow deep∼while trying to distinguish the weeds from the trees

I’m panting, mouth open and pleading for more ∼so restless, still moving my tongue back and forth

I’m wanting, from wandering around in the snow∼licking my lips and savoring the cold

I’m falling, from slipping on rocks in the brook∼rubbing my thy up and down where it hurts

I’m confusing sleep with being awake∼fading in and out of dreams as the blood starts to seep.

 

Posted in mental health, Mysterious, poetry, Short poem, short story, Tragedy

Good-Bye, Beloved Night

I watched you kill me a thousand times in life∼before you actually made me die

and now I write to you from the other side∼to say good-bye, beloved Night.

Haunted by your frightening memory and the stormy passion we displayed

I’m now lost amidst the abyss of darkness that surrounds me day after day.

The black sky rains silver streaks of lightning and waves of regret

I look down at vivid colors∼the brilliant display is heaven unabated.

So you finally did it, succeeded in your scheme, but now, my thoughts of you have faded

from somewhere in-between I write to you, my killer∼to say good-bye, beloved Night.

 

Posted in mental health, Mysterious, poetry, Tragedy

Death Came Calling

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Under the surface of the water she lifts her weary eyelids up and peers

at the sunlit streaming rays pouring through the waves into her soul.

She looks down at her bruised and beaten body-though quite useless at this point

As it lays on the ocean floor beneath.

Shewing the biting fish away she wonders why her spirit hasn’t departed

one way or the other…

Why this hesitation? Why did they leave her behind in the sea?

There are questions to ponder-but somewhere in the wonder

of being caught, in-between, is a revelation of life itself.

She turns and floats deeper into the murky water…

Death came calling but she did not answer.

 

Posted in Mysterious

To Help Me Forget

 

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Photo courtesy of s1.favin.com

Today is not a day for wine; though I have some expensive Porta Vita Italia waiting for me. Today I’m having Canadian Club Reserve. Aged 9 years. Smooth whiskey to help me forget last night. There’s some truth to the lyrics of one of Eminem’s songs; “When a tornado meets a volcano….” Especially when you mix in my Borderline and another man. I told myself to forget. We agreed we wouldn’t talk of last night again. But, there’s something cathartic about writing it out. And so that’s the next poem I’m writing now. I’m sure you’re waiting with bated breath, right? lol. I can only hope and dream. (Unmutes the tv and pauses writing for the steamy shower sex scene between two (shouldn’t be) lovers. Hot and bothered is totally me. Courtesy of “Power.”