Gray clouds, darkness reigns
The peeling paint, everything was the same
Struggling curtains, half broken panes
Red paint residue after last night's remains
The patriot's infidelity, that's all I saw
A perfect relationship I thought, embedded In laughter and joy
Yellow tapes, pens graced books
Flooding me with questions
Oblivious of my outlook
Our look wasn't a test, so why did he cheat?
A sorry my love, but your corpse will go underneath
You did to us, and you know It wasn't fair
Now you've condemned me to a life sentence square
Loved watching detective movies as a child
But I never knew I would be the star of this one In my life.
This wasn't how to end suppose to be
I never chose this life, hence It chose me.
C.Hinds
Mar 23, 2015
Mar 23, 2015 at 1:10 PM UTC
There is something beautiful about two sad people who agree to hurt each other.
Something comforting.
It is a comfort only very damaged people understand- the tacit agreement to cause pain, and to receive it.
Pleasure is for people who have what they want.
But for those of us who are starving, ours is best peppered with suffering.
Being with someone who understands that carries its own worth-
I don't want you to make me feel good.
I couldn't stand it if you did.
I don't want you to touch me gently, or ask if I'm alright, or stop to look into my eyes.
I am starving, and so are you: I want your teeth.
I want you to make me hurt. And I want to hurt you.
I want you to hurt me because I'm not him, and I want to hurt you because you're not her.
We want to see each other suffer because we are starving and we need to feel that someone else is.
Don't hold back. I want you to lower me because I'm too good for her.
Don't love me, don't caress me. Dig your nails in. Drip candlewax on my stomach.
One step down from torture is all I can stand in the way of human connection, when it isn't her.
Punish me for looking at her like a baleful puppy tonight, even as you waited in my room with your soft skin and your sharp teeth.
There is nothing you can do that will be too violent, too brutal, too sadistic.
I don't want to be loved right now.
I am too raw.
I want to be touched. I want to be ruined. Leave marks. Smear lipstick.
Lower me because I am
Too
****
Good for her.
Let this heart know on no uncertain terms that its needs don't matter.
Help me **** it. Help me pin my demons to the bed and make them writhe, and I will do the same for you.
Let's exorcise our loves tonight and banish them to hell.
Let's tell our skin that it is irrelevant.
Let's say **** you" to the things that bind us. I will cut your heart out for him.
I will kiss your scars, not to heal them but to remind you that when you put them there you fought for something, something we both fight for now.
Hurt me. Fight her. Do it for her.
Do it for her because I'm not good enough to hurt.
Do it for her because I'm TOO good to hurt.
Crush me.
You could boil me alive and it wouldn't make up for her, so at least leave me bruised.
I will give you what you need, and you will give me what I need: not love, but contact.
Please,
Let my heart know on no uncertain terms that its needs
Don't
Matter.
There is something beautiful about two sad people who agree to hurt each other.
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 1:11 AM UTC
His skin is wrinkled
His body has shrinked
I think he has Alzheimer
For he doesn't remember where he lives.
He acts so queer
And I wonder why
All I can do Is sit and sigh
Hoping that daddy won't die
He was okay
Until he went away
The second family
caused him to be this way.
I love my daddy
He's my heaven on earth
But sad to say
One day he'll be under the dirt.
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 2:19 PM UTC
I write to express what I feel Inside
I write because my feelings are pushed aside.
I write because sometimes I'm all alone
I write because It's my escape zone.
You see poetry was always apart of me,
The in k in my pen will show the world what I see.
I write because I see success
I write because I know I can do my best.
I write because I see a better way,
I write because, In this grotesque position, I don't want to stay.
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 9:12 AM UTC
Left In this ship all alone
My hands are wet, my feet are cold.
Trying to remember your last hold,
A queen wasn't meant to sit on a throne.
What you left was fabrics of your scent
That wasn't enough, you were my camp fire's tent.
Trying too see beyond your bitterness and cold,
A queen wasn't meant to sit on a throne.
The ship Is a journey, which shouldn't be travelled alone
Two parties solidified to become one soul,
The ship Is monotonous when all alone
A queen wasn't meant to sit on a throne.
In the midst of love, arrives a black and white dove
A voyage untold, you left me unloved
Who's gonna wear your mighty crown
A queen needs a king to sit on her throne.
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 9:02 AM UTC