Where are you?

I touch myself in the night,
Feeling you surround me,
Your arms wrap around me.
Mystery in my bed.

Lace of sweat,
Short of breath,
I want you with me.

Delicate on my pressure points as momentum grows,
The night turns darker,
Hotter and slow.
One dark night makes me miss you;
And the things you never used to do.

I separate;
My bed, my head.
Sheets to bandages,
Love to lust,
I want you inside me.

Dreaming of your caramel loving arms
As my fingers carefully trace,
Wondering about your Africa
and why it is your place.

Why you aren't at my place!
Breath in my hair,
Beard at my shoulder,
Big soft kisses on the nape of my neck.
Where are you?

Lust starts to slip,
Slipping gently into milk bottle memories
Of love and laughter;
Love in my heart,
Right from the start.

I carry you with me,
The rejection; I miss you.

Bring me back to my caramel arms,
Tattooed with African charm and dreams of sexual pleasure.
Give me my tussled sheets of sweat,
Late night loving and bodily adventure.

Not milk bottle pain made of hate and anger,
Pent up aggression,
Stinted, disabled sexual pressure.

Give me peace!
Peace from the pain.
Peace from the turmoil.
Peace from the sexual frustration.
Peace from the clumsy hands of a one night stand and the catholic guilt after.

Peace from temptation
And my own desperation;
Peace from self-flagellation.

Where are you?

That was hawt, there is sadness here too all the sexuality kind of surfs upon it. It's pretty graphic even for my taste and I consider myself a fucked up guy generally I was like ''whoa, slow down'' reading this but still, tasteful somehow.
I dig a lot of lines in here
''Peace from the clumsy hands of a one night stand and the catholic guilt after'' heavy feels, mate.
I could never write a poem this long and be consistent so big up yoself. Also, I like how you start and end with the same line, like a frame

(07-11-2013, 12:56 AM)hardon Wrote:  That was hawt, there is sadness here too all the sexuality kind of surfs upon it. It's pretty graphic even for my taste and I consider myself a fucked up guy generally I was like ''whoa, slow down'' reading this but still, tasteful somehow.
I dig a lot of lines in here
''Peace from the clumsy hands of a one night stand and the catholic guilt after'' heavy feels, mate.
I could never write a poem this long and be consistent so big up yoself. Also, I like how you start and end with the same line, like a frame

Aww thanks, consistency doesn't come easy to me but I wrote it so quickly and still half asleep so it managed to work out.
I wasn't going to post it because of its sexual nature but anything I write comes from a bit deeper so its not going to be pornographic.
This is the first time I've had a poem read for public consumption so it is appreciated!
thank you

(07-11-2013, 12:40 AM)missemilyrose Wrote:  Where are you?

I touch myself in the night,
Feeling you surround me,
Your arms wrap around me.
Mystery in my bed.

Lace of sweat,
Short of breath,
I want you with me.

Delicate on my pressure points as momentum grows,
The night turns darker,
Hotter and slow.
One dark night makes me miss you;
And the things you never used to do.

I separate;
My bed, my head.
Sheets to bandages,
Love to lust,
I want you inside me.

Dreaming of your caramel loving arms
As my fingers carefully trace,
Wondering about your Africa
and why it is your place.

Why you aren't at my place!
Breath in my hair,
Beard at my shoulder,
Big soft kisses on the nape of my neck.
Where are you?

Lust starts to slip,
Slipping gently into milk bottle memories
Of love and laughter;
Love in my heart,
Right from the start.

I carry you with me,
The rejection; I miss you.

Bring me back to my caramel arms,
Tattooed with African charm and dreams of sexual pleasure.
Give me my tussled sheets of sweat,
Late night loving and bodily adventure.

Not milk bottle pain made of hate and anger,
Pent up aggression,
Stinted, disabled sexual pressure.

Give me peace!
Peace from the pain.
Peace from the turmoil.
Peace from the sexual frustration.
Peace from the clumsy hands of a one night stand and the catholic guilt after.

Peace from temptation
And my own desperation;
Peace from self-flagellation.

Where are you?

Very good imagery, and guttural. I don't need to read my daily Penthouse story after reading your poem. J/k. . I like the milk bottle allusions. Is it possible to dig even deeper? What is the real cause for the yearning for sexual gratification? You could drop a hint as to whether the undercurrent is fear of abandonment, the need to feel loved through sex, or trying to fill a spiritual void that religion never filled?