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 Apr 2014
Kevin Eli
Waiting for the call that will never come.
I die inside every hour, every minute.
I reach across the couch to grab my phone.
Before I pick it up, I pull back my hand as if denying myself the disappointment I already know.

She never lied to me, she never hurt me.
I guess she just didn't want to hear "I love you" from me.

Can't eat, unable to cry, barely able to sleep, too depressed to drink.
She doesn't know how much I hurt, and I don't want her to know either.
I'm tired of it. I can't take another crack in my heart. It will break.
So I sink into my couch, phone on the other cushion, staring somewhere at the air between the TV screen and my face.

I just want relief in somebody's arms.
I "though" she never lied to me, I "thought" she would never hurt me.
 Apr 2014
Kevin Eli
Insidious doors that close linoleum floors keep the secrets of the man hidden from the poor.
It's a shame the way he makes me work for more.
Fear is the weapon of our enemies and allies.
Crying wolves, crying wolf while slaying dear.
Maybe we are better off this way.
On blue moons, our eyes turn red and we say we are done and won't take it again.
Force fed, force shaved, forced to listen and forced to behave.
It's a shame the way he makes me feel depraved.
I shout, scream, stand up and get mad.
Tear apart the room without saying a word.
***** you, you aren't my Dad.

Have my cake and eat it too?
**** me off under the table while the social network takes a stab. I don't care. F%&K; the media's news.
I see the headlines spelled a million different ways, but you are still the one that has to sleep at night, knowing you nurtured a nation that reaped and *****.

The innocent, the young, the scared, the hopeful, the dreamers, the soldiers, the vagabonds, the artists, the entertainers, the founders, the church-goers, the fishermen, the students, the Samaritans, the stay at home mothers, the policemen, the American man. His soul and the spirit they tried to preserve.
Lied to and tapped, again and again.
It's a shame the way he makes me give and take.
Inside us, inside the US.
Without asking.
 Apr 2014
Kevin Eli
I am a collector.
Some would say I am good.
Others would say I am lucky.
A few who know me would say I'm a *****.

I couldn't care if I bang you.
I just want your number.
I'm just feeling the need to be better
Than everyone else.

To know I can get your girl, or that one over there.
My presence is bigger and I'm more important, you should care.
To know I could sleep with a celebrity's daughter.
The paparazzi would obviously look at me if they caught her.

Trust me, I can beat you at whatever it is.
I might be lying, A bluff; hit or a miss.
I've done someone like you before this,
A dozen times or more.

Bottom line ladies and gentlemen:
Know not just who I am,

I make myself look like a rogue and a roar
For fear of finding my role.
Collecting people and demanding more
Because I am afraid of who I am.

It's alright to be me.
I am nothing more.
 Apr 2014
Kevin Eli
Slowly, you come before
Me in this warm light
As the only thing I want.

Don't make it a dream,
just give in.
Let me seep in.
Seep into me.

Your fold, my sin,
our whole existence, manifest
in you, my friend.
Tempt intense,
your taste, my wish
to make you want it badly.

Hold me, come again.
Intense, breathe slowly and return
this favor I ask you so sincere and desperately.
Give me your secret, your desire, your fire
what inspires
your mind and soul.

This last chance, this request
I whisper loud.
One taste, your sin, your ***.
Your salvation I beg to give you
One more time.

One caress, one gesture
One grace
This taste of you
my dark nirvana.
 Apr 2014
Kevin Eli
I have beautiful nightmares still to this day of our times together.
I see her face, of which I do not like to recall but nevertheless, blindingly unforgettable.
Just the burning ashes and shadowy silhouettes that dance in the corridors of my mind between darkened doorways and buzzing lights.
No wind, growing still air and a stench of old sketch books and burning lighters.

Some things you wish you could forget, while others, you wish you could remember.
 Apr 2014
Kevin Eli
Yellow painted walls. This place makes me smile.
As she sits there by night studying, her dress flows elegantly in the wind
That is blowing through the balcony door.

Polka dots in black and white, she bites her pencil tip.

She makes me smile.

— The End —