So now I weep tears of dashed hopes.
The dreadful sorrow cracking and snapping my teasing mind apart as I say a final and tardy goodbye.

But not for you,
But for the man I met all those years ago.
And for the woman that met you.

My one last wishful thought,
Is the greatest of all...
That somewhere our old souls are still prancing carefree and smirking to the pleasure and gift of our love.

I walk on a path of throats,
Winces of pain is the sound of gaining in the world.

D O N T
you see?

It wasn’t my pathetic unrequited love.
Nor was it the vanishing of you.
It wasn’t the sorrow I felt while you faded.
Nor was it the recognition of our expiry date.

O  P  E  N
Your eyes.

It was your kindness
It was them sweet white lies you whispered to comfort me.
To protect my feelings.

C A N T
you
see?

You wasn’t letting me down gently.
You wasn’t being noble.
You just prolonged my inevitable misery.
You let the emotion of belonging cement to then just carelessly erase it.

Please
L I S T E N
To me

That mutilated me.
That broke and wrecked me.
That made me contemplate everything.

It
S H A T T E R E D
Me

And yes my own love was the executioner
But you tossed me away
Trafficked me to the devil.

His favourite play is the mockery of

H O P E

You were just his little minion.

Tick tock goes my violent clock,
Lub hub beats my sadistic heart,
Bang bang explodes my venom bombs,
Boo hoo sighs my corrupted youth,
Pitter patter creeps away my virtue,
Ding **** calls my insufferable fetish,
**** a doodle do awakens my undignified temper and
Boom
Boom
Boom
Here comes my distasteful doom.

Oh do not look at me like that.
Although I pulled the trigger you loaded the gun a long time ago.

Oh do not complain that my loose canons of speech are finally repulsively soaring.
When you gave me a deadly spark.

If you do not blame,
Then I promise I won’t too,
The collateral damage of two wishful hearts needs no ownership.

So stop trying to win a forgotten war,
What’s done is done.
No more friendly fire.

My lady,

Oh how I love those rosy angelic cherry cheeks.

Oh how I admire your foxy corn-stranded sunshine hair.

Oh how I drool over the caress of that fair sensual oil skin.

Oh how I fiddle with them refined full blood lips.

Oh how I’m baffled by that Cleopatra spine-tingling smile.

Oh how I analyse your swift throat gulping movement.

Oh how I observe them bones of glistening bewitching talent.

Oh but how I love every part of you but beg you not to return my looks.

Oh how can I learn to love them
Delicate emerald tear-stricken eyes.

If it cripples me even for a second to dive within its grief-stricken ripples of a stare.

If you wish to call it blindness,
Then yes I’m blind.

If you choose to call it submission,
Then I am whipped and kneeling.

If you’re convinced to call it pathetic,
Then cringe because I’m woeful.

If you desire to call it a sin,
Then send me to the pits of hell my god.

If you pick to call it silly,
Then I must still be a immature child.

If you preach to call it ****** up,
Then I am surely deranged and crazy.

If you need to call it chemicals,
Then I’m definitely severely imbalanced.

If you need to call it all of the above,
Maybe spice it up add a few more words

please go ahead.
But I will always call it


L   O   V   E

When your danger was mistaken as adventure,
Causing frostbites to grow on my cementing heart,
It seemed my dull eyes developed disfiguring ulcers which tarnished my vision,
Because your lust was thought to be love.

While your manipulation was crowned as kindness,
My skin was being roughly tattooed with bruises and wounds,
It seemed my aura formatted from a cloud to a frigid speck of pathetic dust,
Because my submission was thought to be devotion.

While your destructive words seemed to be a gentle push,
I became trapped and forced,
While decaying poison was being injected within my fragile soul,
Because they labelled your control as being protective.

And now they call me cruel,
Inhumane and a monster,
When I don’t weep for their own ordeals,
When I don’t care about the pain they have experienced,
When I remain indifferent.

But I don’t mind,
Call me savage...ruined...changed...broken...nasty...
A monster?
Because I won’t and I don’t and I can’t
Feel one bit anymore.

She threw to many sharp stones.
So as her glass house tumbled down,
She would pick one of the shards of choir glass off the ground and use it
as a instrument.
Always playing the same violent violin piece across her dynamical skin.

Her mother always knew she had
a gift for music.
So when she heard the same solemn chorus pitching from the living room ceiling,
She darted to steal the show.

And become her daughters duet...her piano,
To hug her so tightly,
Singing and squeezing
Until her violin chords stopped bleeding.

God
If this life is really a test,
We were failures before birth.

Amen.

As your chaste wings fluttered
     Sheer and slick,
Astonishing was your glimmer of beauty against the inky ghosts of older humans.
My inward-obsessed mind needed no first thought,
I pursued your trail hurriedly,
Climbing over tree logs.

Animalistic to seize you,
As I had yet to touch such a uncontaminated creature of beauty.

So when I finally reached your flight,
My greedy hands fastened over your so delicate...petite body,
Twisting your divine white wings,
Disfiguring you monstrously.

I chased home quickly fearing you may fly away if let loose.
When safe inside I unlatched you in my kitchen,
To find only a
paste of ravaged white limbs.

Nostalgia punching,
I used your paste as face paint
To hide my crime from your siblings.

Then shrugged my shoulders
Started my day over
And went to find another
And another...and another.....
Young butterfly

As my foreign bones and ragged skin were being disfigured and gritted underneath the heaviness of you.
I soon came to the realisation,
That my betraying heart was differing its rhythm...
It’s beating.
To match and partner with your own.

And although your mental and physical rebelled together to take and conquer my being and willpower.
I begged for your heart to have mercy,
To betray its instincts
And stop it’s beating...

So mine would unwillingly follow suit
and therefore save me from
Eternal sadistic blues.

Only thing that’s capable of loving me,        
Will be the bacteria that eventually feeds on my
sick
rotten
body