Me: A poem I wrote and put on tumblr also I added more to it cause I thought it should be longer.
Also who ever that snide piece of crap side my tumblr stuff should stay on tumblr can just kiss my butt! I don't care what you think. I originally wrote it for this site anyway so shove that up your condescending nose and eat crap! :/
Enjoy.
/
A song we can not hear, but know so sweetly in the night. It calls us to meet each other every given night. We answer this call and leave the safety of our homes in search of each other through the unknown.
Oh how the song sings to us.
It is the season of our union. We must meet. It is forbidden for us to ignore such a sweet temptation. Pleasure has been promised as well as luxurious pain. You and I can't deny each other any longer.
Such a sweet but sour melody the song sings.
The satisfaction in meeting would never be enough, that we were sure. We knew our primitive ways would invade our minds, yet we simply did not care, because the song calls to us.
Oh how the song sings to you and I.
The intense lust it brings us both when we do finally meet. Bodies pressed so closely there is no space in between. Lips meeting lips with vigor. Breath soaring past our gaped mouths with each intake and release. Skin bare as the day of our births from which we explore so passionately.
Oh, how the song sings to us.
We became consumed with the melody. Devouring each other through ruthless bliss and bursts of pain. Lust simply being pushed aside by instinct, greed, simple need. There is never enough, no satisfaction, so we take more and more until nothing is left to take or consume.
The song still seems to sing then becomes deathly silent.
We still hear nothing, but You and I are now one. The call could not be ignored like so many other times. Resistance was futile the moment we casted it aside as a lie. Rebellious we were at first and now so willing to obey, too weak to stop or push each other away. Yet we found we simply could not turn a blind eye. Our Ignorance to the songs power led us here boneless and tired with the evidence of our meeting clinging to us both. In the morning it will be like this meeting has never happened at all.
The next night the song begins again.
And so we fall into the trap again, the song we try to ignore. Both of us know we cannot cast it aside as nothing of importance or need. It is unavoidable to think such naive misgivings. Once the song has consumed our senses it is a lost cause, so we will meet again on this night, like previous nights before. It will never stop, because it is forbidden for us to do so.
Oh, how the nightingale sings to us.
/
/
Review if you want to.