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 Oct 2014 Hannah Yardley
Eman
He was desperate for guidance
So she took him to a place
She wore her black cursed lace
Evil was forever glued to him like paste
He swam in the sea of toxic-waste
He then could not recognize his own face
This was not some crazy-love phase
He was running in a very dark maze
Broke the seal of all his faith
Like the ashes in a haunted vase
He was lost in the darkest space
This kind of love is a hopeless case
A melancholy you don't want to replace
A sin the devil wants you to chase
The apple Adam and Eve had to taste
A dark kind of love. (Seduction)
Stop. Stop.
Stop demanding.
I won't give in.
I can't.
Don't you see what's inside me?
This pent up rage at you.
Don't look now
But
I detest you.
I'll never give in.
Not with you.
Not for you.
Not ever.
You can trace it
My descent into
Madness
First touch
First kiss,  bliss
I lick my lips
The tension releases
This feeling I feel
A sickness
This desire builds
All this touching
Still can't get my fill
Craving that look
Of passion in your eyes
Your disguise,
The satisfaction
Of friction,  sweat
Dripping between crevaces
Following the path
The moisture leaves a trail
To the bottom of the ocean
Explosion
Keep going
To the flame inside
It burns,  for you
Steady and hard
I feel this hunger
Quench my thirst
A slow and soft kiss,
First
Then it's just enough
The volcano erupts
Fall down,  bliss
It all started
With one sweet kiss
The most **** thing about a guy has nothing to do with his clothes, hair or eye colour.

It's in the way he looks at you with longing, when you finally find out he wants you just as badly as you want him.

When he pulls you so close to him that there is literally no space between you, because he can't stand the thought of there being any.      

When he kisses you, so that it feels as if he is stealing the air from your lungs, and for those few seconds you forget what air even is.
    
When all thoughts go out the window and its just him, with you,in the most simple way possible.

Now that is the definition of ****.
Pure passion is ecstacy...
The time
Kills,
Literally,
I'm dying
as the
Clock ticks
I'm crumbling
Away,
Time kills
Soon
I'll be dead.
Waiting..
To disappear
In history..
I'm dying
Slowly
And painfully
Each second,
An enemy..
How much longer?
LOVE.*






What the **** does that even mean?
Living
Is giving
All of you,
In lots of
Little pieces.

Until you feel
Empty – then,
Something
Happens.

You start
To feel,
Alive.
Our city lights,
however small in comparison,
nullify the countless Stars
of the wondrous night Sky.

Perhaps
this is analogous to how
things that seem to be
so very close,
so very small,
so very benign,
so very familiar,
so very attainable;
things of our conscious creation;
can preclude even the very awareness
of far greater,
far more beautiful,
far more powerful things;
both external and internal;
both transient and eternal;
and why we must
take great care
and
act with great tact
and
act with immense respect
if
we, as mortals:
curators of reality;
are to be trusted
with such effervescent potency.
Afflicted upon by mass ****** suffering.
Unable to decipher whether internally or ex.
I tremble under the wash of black that engulfs all light touches.
Blurred vision, impaired by sheer surprise.
Alone and ripe.
Black and blue.
Inside and out.
I fight for nothing;
For a man that knows no loyalty.
Broken hand.
Broken heart.
Broken home.
Four years of come and go,
Two and fro,
Back and fourth,
Lie some more.
Four years I'd loved him.
Forever in my heart.
Foolish I chose such, no honor,
no respect.
Little effort. Lazy ***.
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