I started writing morning verses to both sharpen my poetry skills and be sure that I was writing something every day. I will be publishing a few of these poems per post until caught up, then I will publish the week’s verses each Sunday.
🔞 18+ NSFW
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you unravel me in a thousand ways how the taste of your skin is my drug of choice the salty tang when you plunge your fingers into my mouth after you’ve cunt fucked with them warm and coppery when you’re on my face grinding like a bitch in heat unhinged the spice and salt of your precum kisses still slick with spit and me the scents of you like a fucking list of fine wines sharp musk of when you’re wet and I make you wait after you shower, wet vanilla with a wisp of something tart and honied lingering, revealing you did more than just get clean mellow and earthy when you’re full of my cum, the finest and most expensive vintage the sounds of you are adrenaline in my bloodstream a sinfully symphonic setlist the pouty breaths of “please, daddy” the predatory laugh, gravel in your throat when you know you’ve got me where you want me the rumble in your chest when I call you my baby girl the feral fricative of your “fuck” when I hit bottom the needy whine when I pull out just to tease you the clenched nasal growl when you cum I’m here now, princess Waiting For my beautifully perfect, little whore To unravel me
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In these sheets Is where souls meet Where our bodies synch When I spread your pink wide—swollen, drenched And I have a thirst to quench And a hunger to give you pleasure
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Conditional A tense, a mood of hope When in the hypothetical Si yo tuviera la oportunidad… Maybe Someday If However the danger lies outside of this For it’s often paired with “but” I would come, but I’d like to try that, but I would give her all of me, but I would have told you, BUT A verb tense? Grammar? Is THAT what he’s writing a poem about? Where’s the romance? The ache, the yearning? Patience, dear reader For tense tells us when, but Mood tells intent, attitude I don’t want to live by conditions I’ve drowned in “woulds” and “coulds” and “shoulds” Let’s live with intentionality! I went and it was glorious! I tried it, and it was like nothing I’d ever experienced! I gave her all of me, and she embraced it. I told her how beautiful she is and how she makes me feel when she smiles. But there are risks Living outside of the conditional I went and she wasn’t there. I tried it and failed. I gave her all of me, and it wasn’t enough. I told her ‘I love you’ and she sat in silence. Where would I rather live? Nursing wounds that will scar, but gift wisdom or weighed down by a mountain of ‘what ifs’ and ‘if I had only’? And yes My scars are deep But I’m learning to wear them proudly Each one is a story A lesson A poem half-written Today I’ll add another line And it may not rhyme But it will not be timid or gentle, But deliberate and bold and for myself
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silently I feel you, alive facing the world, your body alight a Goddess—of both fire and gentleness you look at me and my body falls limp and I wonder if I’ve ever been properly seen before this, have I ever let myself be properly loved like this, it’s frightening, for the softest and most fragile parts of me the ones I’ve protected most fiercely step toward you, open and unguarded and willing, as if offering themselves to you, a sacred trust, a prayer needing no words the risk—it courses through me meant as warning, and we meet there envisioning love where in the acceptance we admit that we are worthy but somewhere between our eyes, between the touch of our hands, lie miracles a faith born of the universe screaming joy and yes, so little is eternal everything may slip through fumbling fingers and yes, the risk is falling but it’s worth it, and I’m gonna take it
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Be my little spoon, baby We’d fit together so perfectly I know we would Because our souls do A perfect match Like the last two pieces of a puzzle We’ve been assembling for eons From opposite ends Each having only half the image Building slowly, growing closer With each piece snapped into place Both starting as a scattered pile Becoming more complete The closer we became And now, near enough to touch Well, almost For the now, we’ll puzzle on Keep working with the pieces that remain Perfecting our sides So when no more pieces are left And we settle in, front to back The image will be us
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