A kiss is NOT just a kiss 😘💋 Written By Nichole Sulpizio 💋


A Fleeting Thought 💋

A kiss is not just a kiss

Kissing is the exchange of heart and soul ❤
The softness of tongues touching
In unison
Hearts dancing
Passion erupting
The soul blissfully engulfed
In joy
A kiss without passion
Is a crime
And only those who lack passion
Face this terrible fate
Locked in a cell
Of lost pleasure
Unbeknownst to the source
Denied desires of the flesh
Lacking a painful existence
Existing in a state of non arouseal
Where the body has no source of fulfillment
The heart no nourishment
And joy never presenting itself to the very core of one’s soul

A kiss is not JUST a kiss 😘❤🔥

Copyright © 2021 Nichole Sulpizio
All Rights Reserved

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Dear Cheryl prayed to the stars for the crying night moon


Dear Cheryl prayed to the stars for the crying night moon….

Once a beautiful woman believed love was grand, the kisses would become sweeter and love would save her. She would find me drinking alone and she would whisper. Johnnie, Johnnie, I am so damn blue and so cold. I would give her a hello kiss and I would tell her.

Love be damned, love be sweet. When we hear the nightingale song and we are alone. We need to be drunk on kisses and try to feel. Wanted. Dear Cheryl, you tempt my soul, you tempt my mind. I know you are boundless energy and the Devil’s kiss. You and I had murdered love and we want more. Every time our lips touch, we sin. Every time our bodies meet. I want more.

She smiled and she laughed at my words. She whispered to me. Am I your damnation…

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If I knew…


 If I knew…



Stealing kisses, hands falling together, finding new place to be discovered. We loved so damn hard. We forgot to have a safety net.

                    If I knew…

We had the Fall and the Winter. I got lost in you, silky skin touches and warm kisses in the nights and in the light of the day. We were racing to find perfect beginning. If I knew. I would of stop time and locked the doors. You and I, we didn’t know, life steal from the safety of love. Love would break our heart one day.

                         Dancing Coyote

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Hemingway last dance…


Hemingway last dance

A Poem by Coyote Poetry
"Just words."                  

Hemingway last dance….

I returned Monterey in late May of 2018.  I fell in love with her in 1992. Old Army send me to Fort Ord, California after the Gulf war. The Pacific stole my heart for the second time.

I found the last bar on the pier in Monterey. I found my Hemingway chair and I ordered a whiskey and a beer for Ernest. I wished I had talked with the great man and the writer. I wondered what was his last words, his first words.

I could hear Hemingway speak. We must live, we must die. He, who wasted life, he will taste great sadness when death come knocking at his door.

Hemingway bled red blood like me, he learned war, women, drinking and how to die. How did…

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Charmed Chaos

Image by SuperHerftigGeneral from Pixabay

I am not sure when the moment came where I ceased to be. I recall being ill, feeling feverish, and I remember my mother calling my name from far away. At that point I lost touch with reality and blacked out.
Now I find myself unable to communicate with those around me, for they cannot see or hear me. I scream at the top of my lungs to no avail and still nothing. During the times I get frustrated, the lights in the room begin flickering. But, alas, no one makes the connection that it is ME.
I’ve given a lot of thought on why I am in limbo, trapped here in this place and time. I prefer keeping in mind even the possibility that existence has its own reason for being. But if that is the case, does non-existence also have a reason?


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Poet's Corner

Prolific? Me? I hardly think
and yet I guess that’s true
as writing poems every day
is something that I do
A little snapshot of my life
Something every day
as there’s so much of it to see
and so much here to say
So I’ll just keep on writing
as I can’t stop you see
for it’s a special passion
and completely part of me

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Allowing Ourselves – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon


Photo: found at shutterstock.com

“It is not the mountain we conquer but ourselves.” Sir Edmund Hilary

Allowing Ourselves

Changing our relationship with the past,
refusing to keep it alive in the present,
the embers of yesterday are passing,
allowing ourselves to dwell in possibility.

Refusing to keep it alive in the present,
not letting the incomplete shape us,
allowing ourselves to dwell in possibility,
accepting the strange value of ambiguity.

Not letting the incomplete shape us,
stepping back from self-defeat and doubt,
accepting the strange value of ambiguity,
creatively embracing silent imperfections.

Stepping back from self-defeat and doubt,
the embers of yesterday are passing,
creatively embracing silent imperfections,
changing our relationship with the past.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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