"Untitled"

Come on baby, let's strut our stuff.
Mingling kisses and heat between us.
I know I look hard and tough,
but I wanna touch you like no other.
Your back is arching when I make you sing,
marks of passion left over your clear skin.
The final touch, the final thing,
I do before I leave.
Don't be shy my love, I know I bite.
But I won't break the skin,
unless you want to see the sight,
of blood mingling with sex.
I want to scream and hiss,
Straining against the chain holding me down,
Are you beginning to miss,
the love-hate relationship we need so much?
Let me drag you into my heart,
struggle all you want,
because you'll break apart,
then you shall be be mine.
The simple joy of love and hate,
smearing the lines with bruises and kisses.
People may debate,
if this is healthy for either of us.
But I don't care,
and I don't know if you notice,
but I stop and stare,
I want a piece of you.
Mascara smeared and lipstick lines,
running over my cheeks and chin.
A token of the times,
when we've beaten each other to oblivion.
Let me claw and hurt you,
let me make you feel nice.
But baby it's so true,
you need to pay the price.
A good amount for a room with me,
cash, credit, charge.
I'll be all that you need,
even if your soul pays the price.
Baby, I'll be gentle at first,
But then I'll want blood.
I think I've been cursed,
with the need for passion.
I'll leave you alone in bed,
strutting down the hallway with smoke following me.
It was fun, but it had to end,
You didn't pay me enough to stay.
Step up, whomever is next in line.
How do you choose to pay?
Cash, credit, either way a healthy fine,
Come on, pay to play.
Come on, baby, pay to play.

Notes: I did not see where this was going when I wrote it, and once I did, I realized it does reflect on the fact that somehow we all pay for sex, if it's a one night stand, a long relationship, and other things. Even if it's the first situation, we pay for it. Either in money, soul, or another way, perhaps drinks or something. So I suppose I see myself as someone who requires "payment" when getting physically intimate with someone, though I take the currancy of affection.
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"I am"

I am an angel decended from Heaven,
My eyes light up the moon and sky,
my body flowing with unknown grace,
You'll know I can fly,
away from the Hell we've created.

I am a demon risen from Hell.
The smoke pouring from my lips stinks of sin.
You'll know how to see me,
and I'll let you in,
but let me smear your soul.

I am a siren from the sea.
I raise my voice to flow from my chest,
beauty mingled with danger,
come down and come rest,
under the depths of the water.

I am a deer in the forest,
I step so softly you don't know I'm there.
Can you find me? Can you see me?
If you can you'll stare,
and then will wish to run with me.

I am a stone in the earth.
Calm and held together by melded rock.
Push me, pull me,
I'm anything but soft.
But I shall not be moved.

I am a flower in a field,
and I bloom during the night.
A treasure for only those to see,
who can handle the sight,
of the purity pouring from me.

I am a grain of sand on the beach,
hidden away like all the others.
A massive family near the water,
surrounded by sisters and brothers,
I am never alone.

I am an apple on the tree,
I've never fallen far from home.
I may grow into a tree,
soon to stand alone,
and love my children as they fall from me.

I am a strike of lightning in the storm,
wicked and full of power,
come little mortals,
come and cower,
and I may spare you.

And of course I am a woman,
lost in the crowed of millions.
I don't know if you can pick me out,
harder when we become trillions.
And I am forever lost.

And finally I am me,
I am many things which have come together.
A blink of an eye is the span of my life,
but I'll remain forever,
on the world I call my home.
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In your writes I see this beautiful young woman with so much to give, and plenty of room to recieve..When you write, and read all the beautiful descriptions or see in your minds eyes the 'beautiful picture', too me, that is the Writers Soul I see..I see yours..

..Much blessings on your journey Lunali...

I don't have a writers soul.... it's more like a gummy bear...

Nice writings.....

You have a writers soul...Up2Us..

Nope...it's like a gummy bear afraid of the dark, and caught in the rain.....

..Meh..

I like them both,,but I do wish your 2nd one had a better name,,,, I Am,,,,that is,,,

Your first one makes me think you've been a Victem sometime in life,,and IF thats the case,,I am sorry,,IF thats not the case then you have a deep desire within to be more dark than light?
And many have that within them,,,but it speaks of sex like it is merely a job,,as theres nothing more to it for ya?
And I hope,,truly,,that your NOT in that mind set,,,at your age,,life is all in front of you to make happen..
Your poems takes us in,,and we read and reason,,,

Your second one,,shows your many paths that spoke out like a web from within,,all different in there own way,,yet all united as one to see....There very COOL in their making,,,
I hope you have a great week,,,and your poem in your profile,,very cool,,,,

I read both of your poems and I dare say that you are dangerous. You are an amazing writer with so much to offer.

Hello Vitamin A
Chewable Flintstone Pebbles
Good for the Vision
Delicious Carrot
Sweet and Hard
Freshness Assaults
The Senses
Free for the Taking
Garden Grown
Pulled from the Earth
Washed Clean
Water Flowing Swiftly
Over the Root
Dripping Wet
For Consummation

I was actually abused as a child, it had some... Lasting effects, I mus say. The abuse continued in following relationships as well, though I've started making stands against things I'm not willing to deal with.

Sadly, however, I'm not really into... Intimacy. Too much work, I suppose, if it happens, it happens, if not I could hardly care. Sex is a tool for bartering for affection, and little more.




Thank you, as of late I have been unable to stop writing.