Chocolate Skin Poem. The chocolate skin that I live in has seen torment and pain... with these milk chocolate eyes, like hershey syrup when it rains, The chocolate skin that i live in, smooth as dove and nestle sweet... yearning to be devoured... tonights entree... dark and bitter sweet, Yet he's already has his main course... he's full of low fat & red meat... and he only seeks my chocolate love if he has just a little more room left for something sweet, The chocolate skin that i live in, saved by the mercy and grace of God's love... delectably crafted with the finest ingredients from above, The chocolate skin that I live in, battered and used... offering up a sacrifice of my flesh... hoping for love yet feeling abused. Descriptions like these covey positive attributes but somehow black comes up when feelings of. This could be sleep? “In a city made of seaweed we danced on a rooftop, my hands under her breasts. — "Love Sonnet XI" by Pablo Neruda, 7. ... Not chocolate… "Once in civics class, he touched my blouse like it was a page he wanted to turn. How Love burns through the Putting in the Seed On through the watching for that early birth When, just as the soil tarnishes with weed, The sturdy seedling with arched body comes Shouldering its way and shedding the earth crumbs.” — “Putting in the Seed” by Robert Frost, 30. “At first I cannot even have a sheet on me, anything at all is painful, a plate of
 iron laid down on my nerves, I lie there in the 
air as if flying rapidly without moving, and
 slowly I cool off—hot,
 warm, cool, cold, icy, till the 
skin all over my body is ice
 except at those points our bodies touch like
 blooms of fire.” — “After Making Love In Winter” by Sharon Olds, 16.

I will refuse to let the fires of this hell be the only thing that makes us sweat. You can also just use these titillating words to revv up your own sexual desire. Anger and frustration because the color of my skin? If you're looking to level up your romantic text game, no eggplant emojis required, you might want to turn to some sultry AF sex poems for a lil inspiration. One human can only say ‘Oh God’ so many times.” — “After the Witch Hunt” by Megan Falley. “Wilde ones, let us forgive the bitter pill delivered with each finger shoved down. Leave one of these saucy rhymes on a handwritten note somewhere unexpected (like in their work bag or taped to their bathroom mirror) for bae to find, and they'll be booty calling YOU when they're done reading it. Nude, glued together for a minute, we stood." “Carry me down into that liquid place again where we meet without talking, even though sometimes we're talking, where we laugh without making a sound, the punchlines floating off untethered and the corners of your mouth tilting up like commas around some beautiful phrase we don't have to try to remember.
My words rained over you, stroking you. Its deep cocoa hue its glow You ARE beautiful You should know People may bully you and tear you down But they can never take away What stands as truth You are beautiful Best Poetry Books For World Poetry Day 2020 Blog Nae T Bloss The Best Poetry Of 2018 The New York Times How To Create Blackout Poetry Alexandria Library Automation Software Best Dairymilk Quotes Status Shayari Poetry Thoughts Yourquote This content is imported from {embed-name}. “When they made love Geryon liked to touch in slow succession each of the bones of Herakles' back as it arched away from him into who knows what dark dream of its own, running both hands all the way down from the base of the neck to the end of the spine which he can cause to shiver like a root in the rain.” — “The Autobiography of Red” by Anne Carson, 38. “Whatever happens with us, your body will haunt mine—tender, delicate your lovemaking, like the half-curled frond of the fiddlehead fern in forests just washed by sun. Wedge your knee between my thighs and slip your fingers into me again, let them be glazed with human light and lift them to your lips, let them tell you what they found. — "The Platonic Blow" by Wystan Hugh Auden, 9. Promise. We may earn commission from links on this page, but we only recommend products we love. It will run its course, the course of fire, setting a cold coin on the forehead, between the eyes. I love you, and my happiness bites the plum of your mouth.

“You came to the side of the bed and sat staring at me. The proof will be my body.” ― “The Encounter” by Louise Gluck, 15. A. My curles about her neck did craule, And armes and hands they did enthrall: So that she could not freely stir, (All parts there made one prisoner.)

Neither of which did she have the willpower to refuse.” — “Untitled” by JM Storm, 17. I am burning I am not consumed.” — “To A Dark Moses” by Lucille Clifton, 23. “My heart has become a broken compass. Cheek pressed to cheek, the cool, the hot night-breeze Mingled our hair, our breath, and came and went, As sporting with our passion. Do you think one day, maybe we could dance this way?” — “Untitled” by Mason Fowler, 37.

“I never understood desire until I felt your hands around my throat.” ― “Dirty Pretty Things” by Michael Faudet, 50. my new-found-land, My kingdom, safeliest when with one man mann’d, My Mine of precious stones, My Empirie, How blest am I in this discovering thee! “She was the kind of girl who loved to stretch out under the sheets, eating chocolate, reading books and f*cking on rainy afternoons.” ― “Dirty Pretty Things” by Michael Faudet, 35. For we had strayed Together in my dream, through some dim glade, Where the shy moonbeams scarce dared light our bliss. “Graze your fingers against my skin like a soldier crossing a landmine throw your kisses like grenades into the trenches of my mouth carve bullet holes onto my chest and remind me of where it hurts let your moans sound like gunfire and your breath feel like death i'll come unarmed if you promise to destroy me make war not love?” — “Make War, Not Love” by Andrew Noske, 28. / You. We burrow in closer wrapping arms and legs over and under each other. We were making love all evening —I told her stories, their rituals of rain: happiness is money, yet, but only the smallest coins.” — “Dancing in Odessa” by Ilya Kaminsky, 20. and kings traveled far and wide to make her their bride. Or that I am corrupt from within born into a life of violence and rage. “And yet one arrives somehow, finds himself loosening the hooks of her dress in a strange bedroom — feels the autumn dropping its silk and linen leaves about her ankles.” — “Arrival” by William Carlos Williams, 22. “Last night I slept, and when I woke her kiss Still floated on my lips. 52 of the best and steamiest sex and love poems to get you and/or your partner in the mood.

— "Sultry Sunday" by L.M. With skin as dark as chocolate and a voice as pretty as her father's.

How you must have suffered getting accustomed to me, my savage, solitary soul, my name that sends them all running. Here is the bed, dark like a true beginning. / You were so fine, / I prayed to God that you would be mine. I cry out in pleasure. — "Wild Nights" by Emily Dickinson, 6. The chocolate skin that i live in... longing for my chocolate king... a man crafted in the image of God with a sweet tooth just for me.

This way, you can get foreplay started with words instead of your hands, effectively stroking your partner's mind with tantalizing thoughts. Peanut butter, almond swirl. Published at the web's largest poetry site. / soon as I saw you, / I dropped a pen. She fell in love with him right there on the spot. The skin I’m in doesn’t confine me to a negative stereotype,It defines me and strengthens me to reach new heights, it propels me, excels me and pushes me to my highest highMy skin shows not my Published at the web's largest poetry site. If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Because I wanted to be burned, stamped, to have something in the end— I drew the gown over my head; a red flush covered my face and shoulders. My skin shows not my lowest low, rather shows the true colors of those who don't know. 24. Sleepwalking to the rhythm of your words, Never wishing to wake.” — “Hypnotized” by Michael Faudet, 31. File these away for when you or your boo need some erotic inspo ASAP.

Were I with thee/Wild nights should be/Our luxury! Thus, though we cannot make our sun Stand still, yet we will make him run.” — “To His Coy Mistress” by Andrew Marvell, 34. “I dream’d this mortal part of mine Was Metamorphoz’d to a Vine; Which crawling one and every way Enthralled my dainty Lucia.
Published at the web's largest poetry site. I taught you the way adults love (quick, dry, no eye contact.) ” ― “Recreation” by Audre Lorde, 52. Dark-skinned beauties are a deep passion of black fire - this is a hot safari, a wild savannah, an exotic havana. Yosef Ben-Jochannan — ‘Dipped in chocolate, bronzed in elegance, enameled with grace, toasted with beauty. The breaths catch… while fingers orchestrate an exhaled symphony of moans." Now that all of them belong to the past, it almost seems as if you had yielded to those desires—how they glowed, remember, in the eyes gazing at you; how they trembled in the voice, for you, remember, body.” — “Body Remember” by Constantine Cavafy, 26. A long time I have loved the sunned mother-of-pearl of your body. Why not my knowledge and my intelligence, my positive heritage? Lost in the sensation I succumb to your passionate creation. Your body I adore. “It's whirling all around me red, then blue then yellow, then gold. Published at the web's largest poetry site. And love be thrall to death! Then you kissed me—I felt hot wax on my forehead. — "Inside" by A. “I am hypnotized. Might I but moor - tonight - In thee!" / soon as I saw you, / I dropped a pen. He longs to be An orange, to feel fingernails Run a seam through him.” — “Lust” by Yusef Komunyakaa, 33. They were married and the queen wished for a daughter. Dark skin. My lord, she's a black woman.’ Rowing in Eden - Ah - the Sea! I made her arch her back and scream, it only took a pen.” — “Erotica” by S.T.P. I am more than a gangster that sags with my pants low. Then I explode I climb so high. text became a legit tactic to have sex. ― "Dirty Pretty Things" by Michael Faudet, 18. “When the apocalypse does come, I will rebuild our city with my tongue. Not long after, a … We will always know that, you and I.

“I made love to her on paper and spilled ink like passion across the sheets. You were spring, And I the edge of a cliff, And a shining waterfall rushed over me.” — “At the Touch of You” by Witter Bynner, 48. He longs to be Words, juicy as passionfruit On her tongue. "These are the lips, powerful rudders pushing through groves of kelp, the girl's terrible, unsweetened taste of the whole ocean, its fathoms: this is that taste." — "Untitled" by Mason Fowler, 19.

But when I crept with leaves to hide Those parts, which maids keep unespy’d, Such fleeting pleasures there I took, That with the fancie I awook; And found (Ah me!) Subtracting day from day, I add this woman’s ankles to my days of atonement, her lower lip, the formal bones of her face.

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