spit, mixed with dirt – muddy words flow
She fucked him to remember
She fucked him to forget
She fucked him to feel beautiful
She fucked him to be someone else
She fucked him to drown out the pain
She fucked him to feel alive
Because when he was deep inside her
That’s when the world made sense
tara caribou | ©️2017
original artwork and the occasional rant
Art Consignments in Ninilchik, Alaska
Apologies for my apologies
Poetry by Charles Joseph
We Survived and Arrived - Now as Warriors We Thrive
Writer and Artist
a collection of short poetry from an autistic mind
Poetry, Photography, and Thoughts
The Lies in the Skies Exposed
"When I am writing, I am trying to find out who I am..." --Maya Angelou
Welcome to my tiny corner of the universe filled with poems that I have written.
Author | Freelance Writer | Blogger
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That speaks volumes! I guess there’s too much fucking and not enough making love
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Can you fuck and make love at the same time? Where’s the line? If fucking is all you have, can’t it be enough? Doesn’t it have to be reciprocal?
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The line is drawn between appreciated and being used. At the end of the day when you aren’t having orgasms there better be something else that keeps two people together. If there isn’t…then what are you doing?
That’s what separates fucking and making love! In general people fuck to fill a void.
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Hard words. But I certainly appreciate your perspective.
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Yes that’s all it is, my perspective.
Intimacy I think has layers.
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I agree fully.
I feel I should clarify that this poem does not reflect real life for me personally. Just thoughts I had and wrote down.
I always appreciate your comments though. You make me think. I like that.
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Well I’m glad I can do that! I have lots of deep stuff flowing in my brain lol
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Oh, I can tell! Thanks for sharing.
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Welcome!
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Fucking awesome to me. I fucking love your honesty, so keep it up.
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I really enjoyed this.
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Thank you.
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I think this would be me if certain details of my life were different. It makes me realise that a lot of us aren’t really so different in terms of what we need. I like your rawness, Tara. That’s what I relate to, and what keeps me coming back.
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I can understand that. I think what I was trying to convey was that we all have different reasons for the things we do. Whether born of need or want or self-hate or a desire to grow or desperation or love or wanting to be accepted or a hundred other things. And I agree, in essence we all want the same things, whether we are two or eighty-two. We want to be loved and cared for. To be seen and understood. To be protected and accepted.
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Actually, you put it so much better than I was trying to with my comment. We all have reasons and we all have needs. The details of our stories may be different but we’re all the same when you get right down to it.
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Yes! Exactly!
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When you drown out your sorrows in the moment knowing full well you’ll be left all by yourself once again. This is deeply resonating.
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Exactly, Sulaiman.
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I love your perspective and brutal honesty
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I find honesty is best.
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