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Maria Monte Jun 2017
You hide in a thin sheet of warmth,
Coloured with yellows and orange,
Of kindness, care and love.

Painting me with what I thought was festive.
Showering me with "I love you"s and concern.
(Have you eaten? How was your day?)
Did you ever truly care?

My heart constricts at the thought
Of your sweet honey coated tongue
Whispering lies into my ears for "a fun time".

Compliments, flattery and beautiful poetry,
They spilt from your mouth so easily.
Said to many people as a way to grasp
Their heart and their soul.

I'd soon have to repay tenfold
With outrageous dares.

Faking my own happiness,
To repay all your kind words such as
"You are my world."

I loved it when you said those words to me.
Every bit of flattery you've written in me,
Every bit of concern you've shown me,
Be they fake or real,
I loved it all.

But, honey, all your "I love you"s mean nothing
When you only say it after you've used me
For fun, for entertainment, for pleasure,
For yourself..

I had to say goodbye,
I was unhappy,
You loved the idea of me
That showers you with attention.

Of course, I'll miss you.
I'll miss that sweet mouth of yours,
I'll miss the romance that you showed me,
I'll miss the warmth of your (fake) concern,
I'll miss your beautiful ways to say "I love you."

But I what I won't miss is,
The way you were my puppeteer
And I was a mere doll looking for love.
The way you stroked my hair,
Only to strike with bitter requests.
The way you left me when you were done
And came back the next day for more.

I hated the warmth of your breath,
Contrast to the bleakness of your treatment.
I hated the warmth of your love,
Contrasted to the coldness of how fake it was.

I hated that.
I hated you.

But even so, oh honey..
The melancholy I feel when I cast you away,
Is beyond comprehension.

For you've played me like a game and won,
You've captured my heart and painted it black.
But you've yet to capture my wits.

I was being used.
I'm not a blind fool to what you are,
But, oh, I fell for you so hard
And now it's a farewell.

Goodbye, my love.
Goodbye, my parasite.
An older piece I thought I'd post.
Needs massive improvement.
I still have a lot of ways to go.
Maria Monte Jun 2017
Oh, how sweet it would be
When Lucifer beholds thee
His string of words, ablazing a fire.
To read it with passion is what I desire.  

Oh, how sweet it would be
When the reaper comes upon me.
When his words ring in me,
They strike fear, greed, and joy.

Oh, how savory it would be
When Lucifer and the Reaper
Were to sing a melody of their own.
Anger, sorrow, disappointment, and pride.

My, oh, my..
What I sinner I am
For I wish to hear the poems of
The crooked, of the scarred, and ******

My, oh, my..
What I sinner I am,
For I would tear off
The wings of an angel to hear
A wonderful song of sorrow.

My, oh, my..
What I sinner I am
For I would **** a child
To have coffee with the darkness.

Father, oh, Father..
Forgive me for my sins,
But I don't think I'm welcome here.

~ M.M
Angels do not weep, nor do they scream for they are loved. They know not of pain.

But Lucifer and The Reaper, oh the bunch, they are wonderfully broken.

P.S This is all imagination, as far as I know, I wouldn't **** a child to make a poem out of it.
Maria Monte Jun 2017
Depression is not when I attend a funeral,
And the dead have been prettied,
and the coffins have been chosen.
It is not the sorrow I feel..

Depression is not when I fail a test,
Nor is it when I dishonor my family,
Or when I make a fool out of myself that day.

Depression is when I laugh heartily with family,
And chatter fills the air, it's a grand time!
But hell.. Is it hard to breath.

Depression is when I am alone and at peace,
And the clock ticks and the ink drips,
And suddenly I am suffocating in my thoughts.
Like a deep sea of worry, stress and negativity.

Depression is when my body is stone,
And every move feels like I'm dragging tons.
And so, I shed black tears.

It is when my thoughts are in blots.
It is when I am inky.

~ M.M
They said the stars shine the brightest at night,
But what if the world looks like the sun,
And you're a tiny invisible star?

Surely night will fall,
But not on your side.

— The End —