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  1. #1
    In vestri manuum
    Join Date
    Aug 2008
    Location
    UK
    Posts
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    A Tortured Soul...



    Her flesh begs for more, those sweet delicious touches

    Snatched away from the palm of her hand

    Her minds eye swollen with soft sensual images,

    Memories and emotions giving them life



    Her heart beats harder, chest heaving and tight

    Thoughts and feelings twisting and turning

    Bittersweet longing clouding her consciousness

    Drowning in it all, Gasping for breath,



    Scared to hold on, she can't let go, stepping back

    Such a desperate physical need gnaws away,

    Turning her mind to a swirling tornado of instinct and lust.

    A conflict of emotions, attempting calm, but agonisingly empty.



    Fighting to find her place, her position in this game

    Searching for a refuge, a harbour in the storm.

    A quiet place, to truly bloom

    To show her soul and feel the warmth of a touch



    The torment of a thousand dreams eating away at her core,

    She has no fight to get through the crowd.

    To bring herself to the front, to be the shining one.

    Dormant it lies under her skin, afraid of the light.



    Her envious gaze breaks through from behind weary eyes

    Absorbing scattered words so heartfelt and true

    Affirming the truth, in all their naked honesty

    Wounding her precious pride as they seep within.



    Wringing her hands as she speaks in her mind

    Pleading to stop, craving silent solitude.

    With her head bowed low and her body crumpled

    She wallows in helpless throaty sobs.



    A circle of death consumes her mood

    Her tears plummet to the valley below

    Lifting her face to the brightness above

    It's warmth brings relief in a precious moment



    Is this the end for her dreams and desires?

    should she give in to the darkness that pulls at her feet

    The conflict in her soul is restless and unforgiving

    The torment of love such a sweet torture
    I, with a deeper instinct, choose a man who compels my strength, who makes enormous demands on me, who does not doubt my courage or my toughness, who does not believe me naive or innocent, who has the courage to treat me like a woman.

    -:Anias Nin:-

  2. #2
    Poeta nascitur, non fit
    Join Date
    Jun 2008
    Location
    South East Asia
    Posts
    5,347
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    mmmm yes sweet torture indeed, i liked this one felt the words deeply
    Birds make great sky circles of their freedom
    How do they do it?
    They fall

    And in falling, they’re given wings

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