Join the Neopoet online poetry workshop and community to improve as a writer, meet fellow poets, and showcase your work. Sign up, submit your poetry, and get started.


Sex is a sore subject.
It’s a love hate relationship that toxifies my emotions and leaves me raw.
Raw with unadulterated hate for the thrusting motion that has been used against my free will.
Its a connection I wish didn't need a rerouting
My insides although hugging the intruder tight and loving every slow stroke to the softest, neediest part of me
Churn with the pressure that builds in anticipation of the unravelling
The mental turmoil
I moan with the need to feel it all including the socially acceptable euphoric explosion of emotions
Except all i feel is pleasure and hate in a cock-tail of sweat and cum
Its not socially acceptable to cry like you’ve been burnt during a passionate fuck
But i do
Does every woman feel like puking after an intense orgasm from the man that you have learnt to love with again?
Because i do
Even when i want him to put out the dull fire in between my legs I cant help but hate the trauma
The trauma that causes me to stop in the middle of a beautiful moment and clench
Dry up
All because a past no meant nothing
So i sit on top looking down and wish that i didn't want to push him out of me and walk out the door
It's not fair that a mother builds a daughter only for a man to tear her down, break her down, and send her back programmed to repeat the pattern
It's not fair that I can't properly understand a healthy relationship because unhealthy was pumped into me
Infecting me with repulsion to the non toxic
So i cry
I get sick
And i heal
All because a past no meant nothing

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
Please use care (this is a sensitive subject for me, do not critique harshly)
Review Request (Direction): 
How was my language use?
How does this theme appeal to you?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Explicit Content


I feel like I am seeing a work in motion. It is consistent and raw, with words that, for the most part, mirror the visceral ugliness of the experience, esp. this phrase: "cocktail of sweat and cum." The shape of the work seems somewhere between a brainstorming journal entry and a poem. For me, the shape is the main issue: will it be tightened up, or turned into a howl or a keening or something else? Already it reminds me of Ai's work, esp. Salome. Welcome to the site.

(c) No copyright is claimed by Neopoet to original member content.