Poems about bra

~a little straight slip of a thing,
Red, a quartier inch wide,
Red, a quartier inch thin,
Suggestive, inquisitive,
A political and philosophical,
Lovely provocation to conjecture

As if it were a colored arrow,
Pointing strangely down,
Instead of up,
To the next handhold
On a rock climbing wall,
In this case,
Handholds on a
Woman's body

This way,
Follow me,
To the barricades!
A tourist mapped-path to follow,
Visit the glories of the republic, ^
And the charming Quartier Latin!

Entrap and entice,
The eyes willful blinded,
Taken away to thoughtful solitary,
On-one-side-only,
Does the
Bra strap
Conveniently,
Consciously,
Haphazardly,
(yes, that's it,
A hazard, )
Invitingly, speaks to,
Looks to me,
Inquiring will you vote,
RSVP to red?

As if a line of lipstick on the body drawn,
The directive points,
This way, perhaps,
Always, just perhaps,
This way tourist,
To the dome of the pantheon,
Where the statutes
Are the course,
Or perhaps
Disguised, well-placed, statuesque, (ha! ),
Improvised explosive devices,
Purposely presented,
Needy for a desired
Psychological high impact detonation

If
That is its purpose
Under heaven,
Under sweater,
Under halter,
Under cutoff gym top,
Under liberty,
To tempt and remove
The blindfold from the womanly scales of
Under justice
To tilt him favorably one way

If
It, is theater,
I, the audience

Then whatever is on stage,
(Ibsen's Doll House, ironie dolicieuse)
Is a failed distraction, naught to naughty,
To no avail,
His eyes fastened, stapled wide
To the quarter inch thin
Red path
From her slender shoulder,
Leading, stepping him stoned down to
His I-magination,
For which unknowingly,
He, ticket purchased,
Months ago for
Two hours and one intermission

He must go again,
The show was
Superbly acted,
For so the reviews said,
Ibsen's play,
"an unremitting portrayal of the suffering of a women"





^republic ~ a state in which the power rests in the body,
Of those entitled to vote, exercised by their representatives, their eyes, chosen directly by and for them.

A snapper hedge lore
And bet in vicissitudes
That little wife arise up
But a purse string prize
Here in the piazza today
That change in her suit
A bra fit

Ђ�I don't trust you anymore, ' I said.
It was playful, as it resulted from a humorous exchange of kisses
In which I was seduced and then kissed in such a way that provoked a cringe.
I was feigning frustration as I giggled, as I had been fooled once again.

Though, when I said that, he let out a little whimper.
The implication of what I just uttered, had it been sincere, was momentous.
At the same moment, we both knew.
ВЂ�Oh baby that's not what I meant, I trust you with my everything, just not kisses right now. ' (laughing)
He then kissed me deeply, and things went quiet again.
Running through my mind, constantly –
ВЂ�I trust you with kisses too. '

Trust is a fickle thing.
Twigs fallen from trees look quite elegant until you snap them in half and try to put them together again.
A spine can recover from being broken, but not without suffering.
I suppose I don't really understand at this point –
I have never had half of a broken twig in my hand,
And I have never had the feeling of spinelessness that must come with losing who held me up.
I have never had those kind of tears in my eyes.
I hope I never do.

Most sticks get stepped on in the end,
And that is why I am afraid.
I cherish so greatly our moments intertwined,
Laying in my bed,
Laying on the couch,
Sitting in a classroom.
My body is still my body, and your body yours,
But sharing mine with you and having yours shared with me
Is when my body feels comfortable on this earth.

I got in my bed tonight, and I took off my bra.
It was done up in a way I would not have done it up.
I keep it tight, tight enough to leave imprints in my skin.
ВЂ�The tightest setting, ' I always tell him.
Tonight I didn't remind him, and I discovered it to be on the loosest setting.
Intentional or unintentional,
I felt love when I took it off.

1. His hands travelled over my back, reaching for the edges of my bra that he had undone.
I was comfortable without knowledge of my clothing's organization.
2. He was fumbling in the dark, and his fingers landed on the clasps keeping my bra loose.
I'm not sure if he's tired of seeing marks on my skin
Or if he just unconsciously assumed it shouldn't be too tight.
Or maybe it signified nothing at all,
And I just am always finding new ways to love him.
3. Tonight I feel him all over me.
Hands on my skin, words in my head.
The lullabies that the movement of his body sings and the beauty that grows with every word he speaks
Are overwhelming the whispers of sadness and anxiety within me.
His love drowns the negativity out of my soul tonight.

I'm not sure of anything.
Whatever trust is, I don't think I could define.
I only know we have it.

I keep wondering if what I did was okay.
If it's okay for me to take so much of you
Into my left hand, then my right hand and
Squeeze, and feel two motherly dots in your centres.
I wonder if it's okay for me to grasp
At your smoothness so much, from head to toe,
Butt to breasts, heart to lips; and breathe
All over you: I'm scared
Of it. I'm scared
Of you,
Of me,
Of us,
Your moans,
The dark,
My moans,
The light,
The day,
The night.
It all frightens me, and I wonder if it's okay
To have suddenly grown up in the ludicrous
Space of time it took to leave two obvious bruises
On your neck. I'm scared that your parents
Will actually send you (back) to India but laugh
Because I'm sure they won't- you applied foundation
To blot out my purple lust scars.
Love bites they call them.
Love...
I'm wondering if what you did was okay.
If it's okay for you to take so much of me;
Every non-penetrative, ridiculous, amateur
Thrust, and every saliva strand. Every whisper
Of afro-hair that falls out of your hand-combs,
And your tongue, which -my God- is now mine.
I said I picked you, I pick you, but here,
Bodies somehow body,
You are me.
Innocence lost
Is when a short skirt
Represents a different type of freedom.
And my hands under there,
Is my best worst decision yet.

Parents in the front seat and brother
Right beside me
You bravely reach down
And held my breast in your hand,
Kissing me
While the car windows fogged
At 10: 35(P. M. )

You touched me through my pants
And made me gasp for air
The virgin nerves sensitive to ever brush
Of your finger

I grabbed you through your shorts
And made you buck
You whispered
"I love you"
And I wanted all of you
In that back seat

But my parents were talking about the road
And my brother was asleep on the window
So we shouldn't disturb the peace

Women don't buy bras
For the tits they have;
They buy them for the
Tits they wish they had

You know
I bet you won't hear this often
Especially from a guy like me
Or a guy period
But you're loyal
I appreciate you
There is a certain beauty to you
Most guys would say
ВЂњTake it off! "
ВЂњShow us the goods! "
A younger me would say that as well.
But I learned
As I matured
That you are not just a piece of clothing you throw off
You protect
You are the bouncer in those beautiful bouncing clubs
You are the guardian of that treasure chest
The colors
Red ones
Blue ones
Black ones
Purple ones
From the color, I can always learn
Thank you for the magnificence of cleavage
You know the perfect balance of tease.
Now, I know this isn't my territory
You're loyal.
I appreciate you.
In my defense,
Don't get offended
When I say
ВЂњNice Rack. ”