At Night, Missing You
My body is weak. My arms tingle with strain.
To write out a poem is to over-exert my brain.
My eyes are all swollen, they sting and are red.
I�ll dampen them with tears as I lay down for bed.
My neck is soar it aches to collapse,
maybe upon your chest it shall relax.
I toss aside my worried thoughts, my body sleeps, a night of bliss.
But even in my dreams I stress, though even while unconscious I crave your kiss.
Leigh's Haiku
A trip to your place
Sexual occurrences
Utter happiness
I step out the door
Tears brim, sadness takes over
I just want to cry
First comes butterflies
Then thousands of tiny pins
Pleasure turns to pain
Both pain and pleasure
This is how you make me feel
You wouldn't hurt me?!
Absence of Protection
The heat of the moment must've gone to my head.
At the time I didn't think of how bad it could end.
The possibility of consequence is hard to comprehend.
So we took the rubber off, it maximized the feel.
At the time I didn't know I was making a deal
with the devil himself-my soul, free to steel.
I know he pulled out, so maybe I shouldn't worry,
But what about pre-cum? Oh God I'm sorry!
My mom's going to kill me when I tell her this story.
Now I wait, not knowing if I'm pregnant or not
Everyday worrying, I'd rather be shot!
The test will reveal God's evil plot.
I'm Falling Into A Stereotype
I'm falling into a stereotype,
I qualify as "one of those whores."
I really don't think that is right,
I think of sex as one of my chores.
I don't think it's fair you call me a slut,
I give him head once and you all think I'm nuts.
You call me a bitch, why is that bad?
You're the one who can't get the guy that I've had.
I'm wanted by all and given to most,
I'm throwin' a party, my body the host.
Bring out the wine! there's a toast to be made,
Here! to all the virgins who need to get laid.
I'm falling into a stereotype,
I qualify as "one of those whores."
I really don't think that is right,
I think of sex as one of my chores.
I can do it on a bed or on the floor,
Sitten' on a chair or up against a door.
I can get on the net, or over the phone,
I'm having sex when I'm all alone.
I don't see your point when u call me a whore,
If it hurts you so much then look! there's a door!
I know sex is bad, but it feels so good,
You know you'd have sex too if your daddy said you could.
I'm falling into a stereotype,
I qualify as "one of those whores."
I really don't think that is right,
I think of sex as one of my chores.
E-mail me at [email protected]
All poetry © of Jenna Wisniewski