She was kind. Her smile lit up long lost love letters into pure Lullabies. She was pure. She loved deep and her eyes shone bright. She was the quintessential example of ecstasy in exegesis. The words of war were so worn around us that we carried them as our exigence. So long had we carried on this destructive deconstruction of our misconstrued masochistic connection. We connected in the backseat and in the street but hardly ever over words. She hated me, yet I was all she had. Slowly however, things weren't the same. She fought more and cared less. I knew she didn't love me the first time I found out she had sought herself in someone else's flesh. Those words ripped through me and rent my heart into a thousand infinite fractals swirling around into emptiness because that's what I was. Emptiness. She loved me like a black hole and ****** out my insides until she was sated like a parasite and then she moved on to the next guy. I stuck on however, I thought I could love her, I didn't want to be happy, I wanted to be hers. So slowly I siphoned off my soul to her as she consumed the callous conscience that I slowly succumbed into giving. I wonder if she even thinks of me. I think of what she turned me into. You turned me into you. I consumed lovers and wouldn't stick around to see their rehabilitation. Destruction. Perfect, exceptional destruction. And so I burned, and so we burned, and all those who got close enough to feel the heat from my sparks got incinerated. I was a ticking time bomb of confessions and regrets and mistakes. Then you came in. You broke me. I fell so deep in love I was lost at sea in the ocean of your soul. I swam in the ******* pleasure that was the blue of your eyes. I fell asleep to your voice and never have I felt so connected to a soul who didn't love me back. Your constant edification of this esoteric ecstasy left me so deeply dependent on your love I found myself in a lack of sleep without your sweet symphony of angelic arguments. I fell in love with your toxicity. I fell in love with the pain. Perhaps I don't deserve love. Perhaps I don't deserve happiness. You still love him and not me. I just wish I wasn't so broken. You were kind. But you killed me inside. So here I stand, an empty excuse of a lover. You told me you'd stay for me. Now all you want to do is leave. So here I stand, an empty excuse of a lover. You're leaving me, and in some ways you're taking my soul with you. So here I stand, alone. Alone and Broken and Empty.
This poem is about two of my exes who ruined me