You were asleep,
laying face down
on top of the tangled
bed clothes.
A Harvest moon hung
low in the sky, peeking
through the window shades
and stretching its golden fingers
of light up the length of your glorious,
nude body. The moment hung in the salty, humid
air, like a promise of what was yet to come.
Category: Sex
All I Want for X Mas | Poems that Suck
Dear Santa,
All I want for Christmas is
The Collected Works of Charles Bukowski,
A Jesus Christ Superstar tank top
(preferably in Medium)
and a guy that will let me fuck him up the ass.
(also, preferably in Medium)
Ain’t That Somethin’ | Poems that Suck
When I was 19 I had this
boyfriend and he was a little
strange; a little too in to women's
silky panties, a little too intellectual.
ya dig?
Anyway, this one time when we
were fucking, he jumped up on my
chest and swung his little ass around
and wanted me to blow him from the back.
Now, I've seen and done a lot of
weird and kinky shit since then but,
you never forget the first time you see
the back of someone's ball bag. Magnificent.
To Swallow the Sun | Poems that Suck
Your long, thin finger crept like a spider up my inner thigh. "Stop," I hissed through my teeth; a warning. "No one's looking, no one cares." and you continued your journey up the pale length of my skin. The pads of your fingertips reached their intended destination and I sighed with the delicious feel of them, as I gazed, heavy lidded, at the sea, head tilted back, as if I were swallowing the sun.
The Unexpected | Poems that Suck
I was gazing out of the window
when I felt a soft touch on my
shoulder, as gentle as a whisper.
When I turned to look, I saw your head
hovering over my skin. The tenderness of
that kiss shocked me profoundly, as if you
had touched some secret part of my being.
I blushed deeply at the obscenity of it.
Paris | Poems that Suck
I was in Paris, once,
just a few days.
I didn’t do all the
touristy shit;
the Arc du Triomph,
the Eiffel Tower,
the Louvre.
–
Instead, I went down
to Pigalle, where the
streets are a litany
of porno shops.
I bought myself
a vibrator
and
some lube.
–
Then went back to
my closet of
an apartment
and had a
good fuck
on the
lice
ridden
bed.
Closer | Poems that Suck
Close was never
close enough.
Even if
I could hear you in my head,
visit you in my dreams,
feel you buried deep inside
me.
It was never enough.
Maybe if I could have
peeled back the fragile
layers
of your skin, cracked open
your ribs and found some
comfortable
place between your lungs
and spleen to burrow into,
I would've
been satisfied.
Passion Fruit | Poems that Suck
We bit into the tender,
pink flesh
of some exotic fruit.
Its thin, sweet juice dripping
from our
lips, and I wondered
what it would be like
if he
bit into me like that.
A Triptych: The Final | Poems that Suck
Lean back,”
he urged me,
cradling me
like a child
in the deep,
green, sea.
I obliged,
pushing my
hips heavenward,
and letting my
head sink into
the abyss.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,”
and for a moment,
I felt weightless
believing in my
own beauty
for the
first
time.
A Triptych: Part II | Poems that Suck
Curvy," he said as he ran his thumbnail along the contour of my hip. "I am," I said defensively, maybe even a little too loudly. "It's lovely. Lovely," he sighed.
