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  Mar 2018 Vaniexe Kafka
oh me oh my
They ask me if I still love you.

I blush, grin and say;

of course.

Why?

Because your eyes are of the most utter ocean blue,

but other days they're the currents of the stormy grey sea.

I see a current of salty water, deep, once blue, but now a faded grey.

I see a bundle of darkened grey clouds in the distance,

and the thunder rumbles from your irises,

and I hear it pound in the back of my mind.

I wonder if you knew.

I see a spark of lightening flash, only once in a while,

while you look at her.

My throat corrodes with bile.


She says she sees green demons lurking in the depth of my own ocean currents,

and I shrug.

What am I supposed to say?

I know you think about her.

Night and day.


The hardest part,

is a generic, old saying.

If you love them,

you let them go.

If they love you enough to stay,

or to come back,

you never let go.





But you haven't come back.
EDIT: Wow. Never expected this to blow up as big as it did. I thank you all so much!
EDIT: 2/15/14
i would say i never loved you, but that is a lie.
they say that your *first* love makes *you realize*, your first *love* wasnt really your first.
i pray for the day this happens.
*getting over you was the best thing i ever did.
and i did it for myself.*
so, one last:
*******.
you.***
EDIT: 9/14/14
i still hate you.
and you don't deserve her.
EDIT:   12/01/14
im sorry. you still arent
the same person
and neither is she.
but we all grow up.

EDIT
10/14/20
I was going through my bookmarks
on my old computer and found my old writings.
I just wanted to update this one last time to say things are better,
things are good. Thanks again for all the likes and comments.
  Mar 2018 Vaniexe Kafka
Pablo Neruda
I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.

I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.

I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,

and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.
  Mar 2018 Vaniexe Kafka
E. E. Cummings
Humanity i love you
because you would rather black the boots of
success than enquire whose soul dangles from his
watch-chain which would be embarrassing for both

parties and because you
unflinchingly applaud all
songs containing the words country home and
mother when sung at the old howard

Humanity i love you because
when you’re hard up you pawn your
intelligence to buy a drink and when
you’re flush pride keeps

you from the pawn shop and
because you are continually committing
nuisances but more
especially in your own house

Humanity i love you because you
are perpetually putting the secret of
life in your pants and forgetting
it’s there and sitting down

on it
and because you are
forever making poems in the lap
of death Humanity

i hate you
  Mar 2018 Vaniexe Kafka
Pablo Neruda
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
Never fall in love with a poet
for their words are sometimes lies
on occasions they're a shield
on occasions a disguise

They will take you on a journey
upon which they bare their soul
in a bid to ease your burdens
in a bid to make you whole

But in every word they choose
for the stories that they tell
lies a little piece of heaven
and a little piece of hell

Tormented souls we poets are
sometimes quite broken and despaired
in search of lost expressions
missed by others who once cared

Never fall in love with a poet
unless you're prepared to share their pain
to hold them close on the darkest nights
over and again
Follow me on Twitter @athomashawkins
http://twitter.com/athomashawkins
Vaniexe Kafka Feb 2018
You are my salvation
Yet my destruction
Amidst the dark abyss
You are the peace

The touch of your lips
Of your fingertips
Like cannabis
I don't wanna miss

Intoxicating and addicting
Tempting and taunting
Too much for my bidding
Screams danger to my everything

Still, I can't stop
I keep going back
Like magnets do
I can't make it through without you

Though we're opposite
We've got something exquisite
Wanting something I can't have
Loving someone I shouldn't love

Here then gone
Making me undone
Tastes like twilight
Sun losing its bright
Triggers my longing
Still hoping
That in some twisted tale
Our love won't fail
'Cause your kiss, a miracle
Brings me to pinnacle

My first thought in the morning
Last thought in the evening
My dreams at dawn
You crawl into my bones

I hope
This is not just one of your jest
I'm falling to the crest
My insides a mess
But it never made me love you less

You wreak havoc
The moment you walk
And came into my view
Everything's like honeydew
Stammeringly delightful
And I'm stuck trying to keep my cool
Trying to stop the pull
Though I'll be left emptyful
'Cause a death's kiss is the end
End of a beginning
For love not to a friend
But to someone who became my everything.
Vaniexe Kafka Jan 2018
Empty, hollow, eerily silent;
That's what's inside,
And surprisingly,
It doesn't bother me.

It was:
     Comforting, like the
     Soft waves of the sea,
     Or the gentle breeze of the wind,
     Or the rays of the sun,
     Or even the dimness of the moon.
It touches what's within.
If there's any, that's it.

I'm feeling everything
     That I can't even feel anything
     That I can feel nothing
     Anymore.

How can someone feel so empty
With no particular reason at all?

How can someone cry
     When there's nothing to cry for---
     When there's literally nothing
     Like that someone
     Who is empty to begin with?

Shouldn't someone cry for
What existed and got lost
Not because something doesn't?
Not because of nothing?

Nothing feels RIGHT anymore.
NOTHING feels right anymore.

Empty, hollow, eerily silent;
That's what's inside,
Eating the life out of me,
wanting me to cease to exist,
Tearing me from I don't know what.

Is this something you should nurse?
     The pain for it to go away,
     Or for you to be immune with it,
     To be constantly reminded,
     That you're still alive,
     That you're still capable
     Of feeling just anything
     Even if it is painful.

Despite the nothingness
That shades your being,
Despite the tears that came after
That threatened to spill even after
You let them all out;
It just wouldn't stop, would it?
Like how this emptiness can't be filled?

The wind is lucky it has the trees
     That danced with it
     With the daisies swaying
     To the symphony of its existence.

The sun is lucky it has its light
     That shines day and night
     With its rays stretched proudly
     And its warmth embracing thee.

The moon is lucky it has the stars
     Giving company to lonely hearts
     Or longing gazes through the night
     Never minding the light years apart.

The water is lucky it has hydrogen
     And a dose of oxygen
     That it can breathe life
     Calming the storm I'm brewing.

The earth is lucky it has all these
     That made it important
     To everyone's existence
     That it's something
     One can't live
     Without.

When will I be lucky
     When I don't even know
     If I still have my soul;
     When the only thing I know
          Is that I'm becoming a shell
          With nothing inside,
          With a hollow inside,
          Like a huge chunk of me
          Was eaten by
          An endearing, savage, yet
          Eerily silent nothingness.

Empty, hollow, eerily silent;
     That's what's inside,
     But it doesn't matter
     Because people don't have the time
     To look past the soul;
     Only the outside---
     The shell of a being I once was.
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