The last straw was when I slapped his ass while he fucked me slow. "You sick fuck," he rumbled in my ear. We laughed in the thick darkness with nothing but each other to cling to.
Category: Sex
On Flesh | Poems that Suck
I want to write a poem on your body, scrawl all the words of my love and passion upon your flesh; my mouth the pen. I promise to write slowly, ensure proper punctuation and grammar, and to end with a stroke that brings you bliss.
Let’s Smash | Poems that Suck
I don't want love, not really. Not the contented domesticity of a white wedding, a swollen pregnant belly, a house in the suburbs or a white picket fence. None of the considerations and compromises that leave you resentful, thinking about how you're losing out on your best fucking years as you brush your teeth while your partner takes a piss. No - what I want is, in comparison, hedonism. The blaze of passion, white hot and unquenchable. To worship your body with my mouth, my hands. I want to shiver under your touch, feel the desire of your gaze and die the little death beneath you. I want the romance of dancing in the kitchen, of falling asleep in your arms, to hold your deepest secrets in confidence, to know you better than anyone else. Then I want the drama. I want you to break my heart, to shatter it so that I can write shitty poems for a lifetime.
Cognac | Poems that Suck
It lay heavily on my tongue,
syrupy with a cloying sweetness,
before I swallowed, feeling the burn
of Napalm.
"That was the only alcohol in the place,"
you observed, dryly
but not without
amusement.
"Did you want a taste?"
the words were too
mature for me
but you knew that,
and perhaps
that was the appeal for you.
Eye of the Hurricane | Poems that Suck
I could feel your presence -
passionate, intense like the eye
of a hurricane - just outside the
door.
My fingers hesitated on the
lock for just a moment - a
heartbeat - before letting you
in.
You slipped in, as silent
and light footed as a shadow,
simultaneously locking the door
and,
pushing me against the wall
with your slim body. I folded
beneath the slight pressure of
your
mouth, both urgent and exquisitely,
painfully slow. My breath caught in
my chest, head spinning with
vertigo.
And before I knew it,
you sank to your knees and
began removing my pants with your
teeth.
Sexual Insomnia | Poems that Suck
I think about you late at night,
when I’m trying to fall asleep
which is counterproductive to
relaxation.
.
I think about me stripped
bare beneath you, legs spread
wide in eager welcome and you
inside.
.
There is a feeling of awe
each time you slide into me
and I look down the long length
of you
(to watch).
.
Yet, even though these images
make the vein in my neck throb
I still fall into a deep, peaceful
sleep.
130 over 80 | Poems that Suck
I approached,
cigarette in hand,
offering to share
but,
You squirmed
away from me
with a boyish
grin.
I raised
my eyebrow, arched,
a silent question
mark.
“Every time
you come near
my blood pressure
rises.”
Waiting | Poems that Suck
"There's showers here,"
I didn't think much of this information
until I watched you walk toward the building -
each step lingering - hope in every footprint.
You stopped one last time,
at the doors of your destination
and I could feel the glee of your
mischievous grin from across the field.
I found you there, stripped
bare and radiant in your beauty,
waiting for me...
1-800-Dial a Piece | Poems that Suck
My new lover called today,
purring obscenities in my ear
like a fat cat about to get its fill
on something juicy.
In my excitement to get
it in, I decided to Nair,
rather than shave my thick,
auburn, pubic hair.
We were naked an hour later,
when he recoiled in horror.
I turned my head to look, then
had to explain that it was a chemical
burn and not, in fact, Herpes.
Crayola Crayons | Poems that Suck
There’s always something whimsical,
nostalgic, reassuring, even,
about the smell of
Crayola Crayons.
.
It brings me back to a time
of pure joy, and innocence.
.
It’s also the reason why
I liked to fuck
in his car
so often.
