Warm hands outstretched,
Hey, are you okay?
Welcoming eyes of fire,
Please, I'm asking you to stay.
And now I realize, that at that first touch,
I should have walked away.

No Romance,
just the way
you liked it.

Just the way
You ripped off
Your dress

And left me to
romanticize it
balled up
on my floor

Just the way
you teased and
denied
my poetic soul

You said it
felt so foreign

Like you were
never worthy
of the prose

You left me
Writhing and
Alone
and
I know
you know
You’re not perfect

I just wanted
you to feel
like a goddess
I worshiped
beyond words
even if you didn't
believe in something.

Believe me,
I did my best not to be
bitter

But your cynicism
was never ****

No one cares
What you don't
Like

You would
look into the
Grand Canyon
and just see a void.

Avoiding
the obviously
numinous

Like where
your heart
was

Before it was
split with a river
streaming your
constantly
pessimistic
consciousness.

Maybe I was too sweet
finishing last
like a nice guy
that you just
left salty

To
slide
down
the
throat
of your
thesis statement:

NO ROMANCE

Hear ye!
Hear ye!
Oh how I love concrete poetry!
Itching to write and sculpt and mould.
Twiddle my thumbs as I thought to myself silently.
Reckon I'd render my musings in italics and in bold!

Hear ye!
Hear ye!
30 days of concrete, wouldn't you fancy?!
These poems, they come in various shapes.
Would you consider them "poetic eye candy"?
If I fashioned poems to look like grapes!

Hear ye!
Hear ye!
Awashed with excitement!
I can't wait to share!
Fantastical, delicious and ultimately succulent!
A wonderful spread of such wordy fare!

Hear ye!
Hear ye!*
When is this... GREAT BIG AFFAIR?
On the morrow, I'll dish out the first serving!
Do tune in if you so do care...
30 days of concrete! The shape fest is beginning!

i want to fight,
i want to resist,
i want to hurt,
because i trust you

i want to feel your hand
as it closes tightly
around my wrists in warning,
because i trust you

i want to feel small
and surrounded
by you completely,
because i trust you

i want to struggle to breathe
while your hand is on my neck,
the good kind of struggle,
because i trust you

i want the ache to last for days,
a reminder of how good you felt,
i want to be hurt and loved
**because i trust you

She is not a sub
And may never be
Her inner voice
Convinces her of
A different choice

But her spirit wails
And her body lusts
For hard physical passion
Power exchange
Seed and submission

If you play with her
Deliver strength
Back her to a wall
Kiss her hard
Command her jaw

Use her
Discipline her
Drop her to her knees
It’s what she needs, and
She loves to please

You breathe my name into
your chest, letting me settle
like dust into your bones.

Tethering me to this moment,
eyes fierce, burning as vibrant
as tiger lilies in a vengeful sun.

Your fingers burning holes in
our sheets, leaving remnants
of their disgust in my scars.

Even to this day I cannot stay
up for the sunrise, I find your
taste infused on my tongue.

And I'm still left to wonder if it
was Lucifer I saw in your eyes
or the gods that condemned me.

Innocence is the days when
I thought that monsters
lived under the bed rather
than slept right beside me.

It was the times I feared
heights almost as much as
I now fear brooding stares.

Back when I thought
passionate love was the
only kind worth having
— that I now wish for a
lover who loves quietly.

Innocence was thinking
danger was an ill-advised
adventure, not a man.

It was admiring a tornado
heart and not realizing the
damage it would cause.