Poetry & Prose. All Kinds

[Derai]

Figured I’ll post something I wrote a few months ago. 
Not really sure it qualifies as poetry but might be close enough. 
 

 

I am broken. And so are you. 
But that’s okay. 

The proverbial Sticks and Stones and Broken Bones as they say.

We all experience them in our own way. 

But we face them. Don’t erase them. 
We take the broken bits of Bricks and Sticks, and we place them. 

Upon the great unbroken surface of time, we create a mosaic. 
Gems, Beads, Buttons and Ceramic. 
It all gets used. 

Fused together into the image that is Us.
From mismatched bits and pieces we form ourselves. Shape the ever expanding mural of life. 

But we are to close, we cannot see what others see.

We see the cracks between the colors. 
The places where our tears seep into the deep between.
And as we grow old, we see the mold. 
The creeping dark that comes from those lightless voids.

We see it fester and expand, draining and fading the pieces around it. 
And in time skew the bits so they no longer fit. 

But those that see us from a distance, they don’t see it that way. 
They see the whole mural, and how it expanded. How different colors banded together and formed this unique display. 

We are all made from broken pieces, fitting into our being in our own way. 
And that, as they say. 
Is okay.
And so are you.

[Lady_Andrea]

First Time

 

Do you need tied, restrained?

Held against your will?

Gagged or blindfolded

So it doesn't seem so real?

 

Should I put you on your knees?

or taped to a bed?

Your legs held open

Your face a scarlet red

 

Licking at first

and maybe a bite

Nibbling your thighs

In my dungeon's dim light

 

Surrendered to me

these treats of your flesh

Lust given willingly

surely is the best

 

I will tease you

with tickles and grinds of my hips

I will mount you and ride you

covering your lips

 

Cry for me my little Red

just call out my name

The ropes come off and you're free again

But will you ever be the same?