Sexual healing
she said is sex o clock baby
This words of her always turn me cos
She is beautiful with awesome curves
Her pretty face make me happy
Her smile is like a sun set
She makes me feel love again and again
What a beautiful soul
She is a gift to me
I swear I can always testify to this testimony
She loves me beyond words
So every time we get down together sexually
We feel each other beyond words
We fly above the moon together
We touch the stars more better than a jet could ever will
Our intimacy is more better stronger each time we make love
What a beautiful woman
She is a gift to my soul
Each down we get down together
She moans so happily
Always she ask me never to stop
Always she want more of me
As much as I needs more of her
I tell you no lie
Life is beautiful with an awesome
Sexual healing
The stench of shame fills the air
Tears fallen choked her words
Laying in a pool of red
Her massa had stolen her innocence
Bruises decorated her already scarred flesh
A mark of ownership
A sinister smirk sends shivers
As the white man admires his coloured canvas
Pride engulfs him
Watching her struggle against the shackles
Her screams silenced by his hands around her neck
As he brutally ravages her again and again
He whips his initials onto her untouched back
As a reminder that he also owns her flesh
She had no autonomy left
Her insides felt dirty, poisoned by the white man's lack of mercy
With every violation her grip on hope was slipping
Until she fell into a numbness unending
A shell of who she was
She was forced into a life of silence
Held captive by the punishment of violence
That day a lesson was taught on how to live a life on mute
I like the way you touch my body.
There's no way I can deny it.
You complete me in so many ways.
You have this body of mines in such a maze.
Taste me here, lick me there.
You have this body of mines wet everywhere.
I feel chills down my spine.
You lay me on my back and let me unwind.
This body of mine is feeling so gracious.
You take this body of mine on a trip of Sexual Sensation.
i remember being a child
longing for someone to hear my scream
a scream i never screamed
a cry i never cried
feeling like i was the only one with eyes
wishing someone was wise enough to see
what was happening
begging someone to realize
how broken
my lonely heart really was
A voice recorded, soft but clear,
Echoes pain we failed to hear.
Hannah spoke from shadows deep,
Of secrets buried none should keep.
A hallway's whisper, locker stares,
Unseen wounds and empty chairs.
A photo passed, a cruel slight,
Each reason dimmed another light.
Justin's love turned into blame,
Jessica’s tears, the haunting shame.
Bryce’s smirk, a predator’s grin,
The silence loud—it let him win.
Clay rewinds but can't undo,
The paths they crossed, the truths they knew.
Mr. Porter, blind and slow,
Let chances slip and let her go.
Zach took notes but not her cries,
While Tyler's lens revealed the lies.
Alex sank beneath the weight,
Of guilt, too heavy and too late.
Thirteen stories, thirteen names,
A map of hurt, a trail of flames.
In every voice, a fractured plea:
“Would someone have stood up for me?”
You use sex to live as a means to pay
Attention not to mention evade escape
Any responsibility in bills mortgage or rent
Pretending to love like you are heaven sent
You’re good at what you do making lovers a fool
Only thing you own between your legs a tool
Like butter your words melt like moth to flame
You sleep earn your keep playing mind games
Often attractive at least in their ebony eyes
But what if wisdom strikes they denim decide
To face teal truth look within them within you
find what is worthy of being used blue truth
You say you watch the kids instead of work
Not to say homemaker’s job isn’t God’s work
But you’re not an asset rather a dependent
You’re healthy not wealthy without even tent
Too lazy to work you don’t even panhandle
The nerve to be a jerk feelings manhandled
You’re like a lime leech sucking money green
And resources you eat don’t provide anything
You must grow inside pull your own weight
Have you ever tried to be an adult any day
Mental health issues are no excuse to fake
If I see you others do too make honest way
Count the men; like the stars
All in red, A penetrated holes art
I shouldn't be walking; into the night
Alas! Walk 365 steps, back from his right
He can hear me, All can smell me
Even when I am a ghost to me.
They tie my legs, shouting for devi
Only ending up rupturing me without any tyranny
Who will hear my side of the story
You are only a victim , so hear his story.
When they say they fight for you lastly
Drowning drunkards say I'm the one Spreaded my legs.
Forgetting that mother's are still
Mother's for her sake.
Will I ever be not okay,
So I can cry out loud, it will be okay??
Who will not claim me wasted
They know me as a women wanted.
We are different in the name of world
Because we are the victimed one
Who he chooses for his own night
To penetrate the hole with all his weight.
I still remember the day you stole my innocence away.
The world shifted—
colors drained from golden light to endless shadow.
It started as a simple conversation,
slowly pulling me down to your basement.
I was only 13 years old
when you left me to walk home on shaking legs.
At first, I thought I deserved it—
because fear stole my words before I could speak.
You stole my voice, my innocence, my dignity, leaving me with nothing but fragments of myself.
Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse,
it did.
Another man used his hands,
leaving me with bruises and broken ribs.
He said it was because "he could."
But my story didn’t end there—
I would never allow it.
I was left with scars, but never silence.
I am a survivor, not a coward.
Romantic or Sexual Love
Romantic or
sexual love produces
yellow clear fossilised resin utilised in
jewellery.
what should we do with sexual predators,
trauma, victims, pain and suffering,
what should we do with sexual predators
they creep in like rats
under a leaking ceiling,
all teeth and shadow.
you can't kill every rat.
but you can stop feeding them.
trauma sits in the corner,
cross-legged, smoking,
she never asks for much,
but she stays.
victims keep walking,
along the yellow brick road
clutching their pain
like a cheap winter coat.
there's no shelter
from memory.
as for the predators—
chain them to the darkness,
make them live where
their own whispers
haunt them.
the rest of us
keep crawling
to morning.
What can I do?
To fight these urges
In my adult life, I have no luck
No luck with love
But my body needs to
But I can't disappoint God
Nor give Satan the power
So what can I do
To fullfill my Sexual desire
The beating in my chest
the urge to rub a womans breast
and rubbing her feet would also be best
I can't be a pimp
Compare to my male friends
I feel like a useless wimp
I have tons of urges and kinks
I can have sex in weeks
I love to mingle
But I am single
I'm not getting yonger
I'm getting older
My urges feel like a roller-coaster
I feel horny each time I'm awake
I don't know how much I can take
She'll be the queen of my decrepit ridgeline,
Her crown, heavy with my wasted want.
Never knows best, a fault of design.
Her tensions a dagger, a cunning divine,
A soul-bleeder, god as a vaunt.
She'll be the queen of my decrepit ridgeline.
The arson of anger will never confine,
For the plaid that’s been woven, I a gaunt
Never knows best, a fault of design.
I check the guest list for a name I can’t find,
A ghost of a promise, a lingering taunt.
She'll be the queen of my decrepit ridgeline.
I hate sour drinks, but I chug it all in time—
A golden apple; a jaunt.
Never knows best, a fault in design.
As the season passes, with its cruel incline,
I swallow one more time; her shadows daunt.
She'll be the queen of my decrepit ridgeline,
But never knows best, a faulty design.
I had a great time.
I thought as I tiptoed across the floor, afraid to crack the eggshells.
Feeling the warmth of the morning sun hitting my face through the curtain.
Hearing the soft sighs of sleep coming from our marital bed.
I had a great time.
Denial comforts me.
I had a great time I smiled.
As I wash the blood from between my legs and throw my ripped underwear into the trash.
I wonder what I have to make for our breakfast.
What fun we had last night
I had a great time I think as the bacon pops and tears stain my cheeks.
He wakes.
Wrapping arms around my waist and kissing me on my head.
I am a good house wife
I think as I put his breakfast on a plate and sprinkle just the tiniest bit of antifreeze into his hot coffee
Won’t be long now.
Gosh what fun we had.
Singing is an art
So hard to understand
But let me sing you a song
Of a girl who was greeted by adulthood
Far too soon.
Her young hands tremble
Under the weight of what they carry
A burden she longs to unload
Yet dizziness pulls her back
To the very place where innocence was lost.
On that bed, a faceless man
Crushed her beneath his weight
Her weak legs resisted
But his desire was deaf to her cries
Mistaking her sobs for moans.
No one believes her story.
For there was no face to blame
And fingerprints fade like whispers
So she walks with fists clenched tight
Bearing a burden no one can see.
The lyrics to this song will live on.
You gripped my hips, not my heart
you stoked the fire on my lips, sent me sprawling through an abyss
and left my body tangled in sweat drenched sheets
alone.
you wove a wrathful web of wantonness, slid your sin down my throat
and left me with a searing thirst,
emptiness.
you filled me, lathered me with bliss, coated me in a sheer veil
of yearning for boundless carnality,
Salacious.
And now I’ll never find soothe again.
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