I tried to make poetry,
But I'm bothered by how idiotic I was;
You tried to help me, I just shut down,
*Now I just have this four-lined ****** apology.

Muscle and bone know constraint
within the confines of its birth
when the warmth of the Sun wanes
it will feel the chill
- of the six feet of dirt it will ever own
down in the dark earth to sleep
at the ending of the days
when the Sun goes down
this body will know rest
returned to the womb
from whence it first came
and my dear spirit
bereft of its body corporeal
will go to its allotted place.

No, I don't think you understand
When I say I want you
I don't think you understand
When I say you're my favourite

The way your skin feels on mine
with your fingers holding tighter
Like you're positively struggling to not eat me alive
Like you're breathing the most intoxicating air

I don't think you understand
When I tell you to tell me secrets
I don't think you understand
When you show me that little piece of your hidden side

The way I melt cell by cell
The way I beam like headlights on a deer
like the sun of my universe has lit up
Because I've never had a flavour like you

I've never tasted anything like your lips
I've never heard anything like your voice
I've never been hit so hard, like a match on its box
I've never been lit on fire like this

No...
I don't think you understand
When I say *I want you

'From the frying pan into the fire'

pain can leave you washed up
unable to discern very much at all
leaves you on a plateau
out of sight, out of reach
on a journey you would rather
not go
but comes a time when acceptance
is the one gateway to freedom
and freedom is always hard won.