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new poem written by me

  • Belle Green's picture
    new poem written by me
    Belle Green says (26 May '10)

    No Comparison by me

    We move back, forward, I'm his fantasy,
    he's my nothing much. There are candles,
    incense, aromatic, romantic; he searches
    my eyes, I look for nothing.

    We kiss, grip one anothers hands, move
    against each other in a slow grind, its good
    for him, bores the fuck out of me. He studies
    my body, my curves, attempting to find

    the limitations of my own desire; there are
    none. I want anal he likes oral. Vanilla gel
    on my nipples, some between my legs, theres
    still friction, and it burns.

    Adrenaline is my morphine sweat rolls down
    my thighs, its natural and it sucks. Hes running
    with arrogance while Im faking want. Its hard
    for him to keep my rhythm, hes five seconds

    behind, I refuse to miss a beat. It baits his male
    ego, there are moments of pause, breathing halts,
    before he finally cums with reluctance. He inhales
    my scent, I feel him shudder.

    He says, Im sorry I came too soon. I smile,
    reassure him, thinking, Not soon enough. He
    scoots up on the bed, tells me Im fascinating.
    Everyone has their own brand of attractiveness.

    I sit naked in the middle of my bed, no answer, no
    sounds. Sex in vain is like smoke and mirrors,
    too much of this and not like that. Want to
    marry me? he says,

    I laugh to myself, Asshole, asshole, asshole.
    My hairs a mess and Im cold, hes still staring
    at me. Im pretty much absent now and my sensitivity
    is wearing thin.

    I chuckle, wondering what the color of broken hearts
    is. Theres someone else, the one who rides my thoughts,
    catching my spirit with carnal insanity. I write his
    three lettered name in air; no other love compares.

    4
    Filed Under: Community Blog Archive
Belle Green's picture
on Wed, 05/26/2010 - 11:14pm

No Comparison by me

We move back, forward, I'm his fantasy,
he's my nothing much. There are candles,
incense, aromatic, romantic; he searches
my eyes, I look for nothing.

We kiss, grip one anothers hands, move
against each other in a slow grind, its good
for him, bores the fuck out of me. He studies
my body, my curves, attempting to find

the limitations of my own desire; there are
none. I want anal he likes oral. Vanilla gel
on my nipples, some between my legs, theres
still friction, and it burns.

Adrenaline is my morphine sweat rolls down
my thighs, its natural and it sucks. Hes running
with arrogance while Im faking want. Its hard
for him to keep my rhythm, hes five seconds

behind, I refuse to miss a beat. It baits his male
ego, there are moments of pause, breathing halts,
before he finally cums with reluctance. He inhales
my scent, I feel him shudder.

He says, Im sorry I came too soon. I smile,
reassure him, thinking, Not soon enough. He
scoots up on the bed, tells me Im fascinating.
Everyone has their own brand of attractiveness.

I sit naked in the middle of my bed, no answer, no
sounds. Sex in vain is like smoke and mirrors,
too much of this and not like that. Want to
marry me? he says,

I laugh to myself, Asshole, asshole, asshole.
My hairs a mess and Im cold, hes still staring
at me. Im pretty much absent now and my sensitivity
is wearing thin.

I chuckle, wondering what the color of broken hearts
is. Theres someone else, the one who rides my thoughts,
catching my spirit with carnal insanity. I write his
three lettered name in air; no other love compares.

Forum category: 
teresa_67's picture

I get it the three letters r they GOD Spiritual enlightening is what u r expressing great poem.

lorilslaven's picture

get over yourself

kidrocket99's picture

Intense and sad. I'm glad I never experienced that. I am vanilla gel, naturally.......they say I'm like a drug.

lorilslaven's picture

Great poem Belle.
Bad sex sucks :)