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Lloyd Johnson Dec 2013
To the man I'll always want to love,
don't ever think for a second
that I wanted you in the same way you wanted
me.
Don't ever try to understand our
love, because it was just yours.
All of it was your love and all of it was my Un-reality.
I dare say to the man I'll always want to love,
don't ever think for a minute
that i wanted you in the same way you wanted
me. i want
you so much more. Yet you still can't see it.
To you I'm just something to do, but you're
someone to me.
So, lastly I say,
I dare say, don't ever in your beautiful life say
that we wanted each other in the same way.
Why? Because you never wanted
me.
Lloyd Johnson Feb 2015
How many hearts are we born with?
Two? Twelve?
And when we die, are there any left over?
Because when we get our hearts broken,
somehow we find it in ourselves to love again.
From the wee age of "puppy love"
all the way to "always and forever", we get back up.
No matter the hurt we endure, we can find a way to revive ourselves.

Or at least most of us, I see,
because while everyone is defrosting their backup hearts,
I lie here dying.

Being born so long ago I must not have been lucky enough.
Lloyd Johnson Jan 2015
Wiped out and broken inside,
I've been defiled.
'Tis there nothing that can remove this violation from my stained corpse?
It's doomed to be my own little secret forever,
And even if I never tell, it shall never be undone.
She took me.
She stole my innocence and I'm supposed to be ok with it.
But when I finally worked up the courage to reach out to someone,
They blamed me.
How dare I ever do something like that,
E v e r .
As if it were my fault, I began to spiral.
Socially I was never the same,
She ripped my body and soul in half.
My brain in pieces,
And my heart in shambles, I thought she was my friend.
From then and on I trusted no man,
God forbid another woman.
It was supposed to feel good is what she kept telling me,
That it wouldn't hurt,
That it'd be alright.
But she lied.
It was everything but alright, because we didn't have ***,
She ***** me.
She lied to me about everything.
She promised me she wouldn't put me in danger
That she wouldn't turn her back on me,
That we were like family.
I cried a little that night in the shower, scrubbing off the horror.

It's been almost a year and I can still feel the betrayal underneath my skin.
I still feel the lies and the soul-shattering sensation of her riding.
Every time she rode me,
I died inside more and more by the minute,
And now she's had her baby and thinks I should meet him and be his godfather.
She wants M E to be the godfather.
Why? I'm already his father.
And besides, I don't want anything to do with that monstrosity.

But I'll do it,
I'll be what she wants me to be,
because I can't stand the thought of that kid growing up to be anything like her.
Lloyd Johnson Jul 2014
The desire to have sweet,
beautiful,
slow,
deep ***
with someone is overwhelming me.
To take our time and be able to enjoy the experience,
to have our bodies intertwine.
I feel like I could have *** a million times before I get to find that, because nowadays everyone is always in a rush.
Lloyd Johnson Dec 2013
Running away from my problems again, as usual.
I find comfort in the warmth of my soul,
the big, rugged arms of my emotions, rocking me ever so sweetly to sleep.
My heart is such a damaged and dangerous vessel,
it couldn't even hold water. I'm amazed I haven't bled out already.
Why do I go? Because if not there, then where?
I'm too smart to let myself find
solace in stupidity,
so not my brain, no, not in my thoughts.
It'd be too unpredictable to stay alive.

I sure as hell can't run to him.
Because HE doesn't love me.
Because HE doesn't care.
Because HE doesn't look at me with that wondrous look of interest and adventure.
Because to him...I'm just a toy.
I've been played with too many times and it's to the point where I'm just hurt and I'm sore, and I don't want to play anymore.
So I hide in my heart, the one place I know where it's safe.
The one place that still, foolishly, wants any part of him.
Why can't he find me in the place I run to every time?
Because he never for a ******* i n g second wanted any part of my heart...

...and his name was Brandon.
Lloyd Johnson Jan 2015
I knew this girl.
A beautiful girl.
Prettier than any other girl I had met.
She  was a one in a million kind of girl.
Not many were like her.
And she swore they all wanted to be her.
But I loved her nonetheless.

She took these photos, beautiful, magnificent photos.
I would look forward to them.
They provided a certain service for her.
They filled a void.
They were personal.
Artistic.
Special.
But they were not simply of her.
They were of her mind.
Her soul, her heart.

That girl.
One day she stopped taking those photos.
She lost her mind,
She lost her soul,
She lost her spirit,
She lost her will.
Her spark was gone.


To this day, I still miss those photos.
Lloyd Johnson Feb 2015
I want you to love me so hard,
So painful,
So intense,
That it hurts
Me.
Lloyd Johnson Jan 2015
How can you say you love me if you never notice?
You can't say my name
Because you don't know it
Lloyd Johnson Aug 2014
I’m sick of seeing the same old skies,
Sunsets always look the same in the city.
I’m tired of scrolling through Facebook,
Reading statuses of people I don’t even like.
I’m done with tweeting about nothing when I wanna tweet about you.
I’m done with working all day,
Still thinking about you every hour going by.
I’m over smoking a bunch of ****,
Popping pills, doing drugs,
Just trying so hard, for even one second, to not want you.

I want to hate you so bad,
But that’s hard to do when, to me,
You’re

...

(pulls trigger)


*...the only one who could save me
Lloyd Johnson Feb 2015
The poetry of women
contain much more than just words.
The poems are about their hearts:
what's right, what's wrong,
what's inside, and what they're missing.

The poetry of women
is not merely love stories.
It's independence, it's liberty, and it's their freedom to tell us what they're feeling, whether we want to hear it or not.

The poetry of women
can be everything they wanted to tell you and more,
that she always wanted you, but never had you,
or how badly you ****** up when you lost her.

The poetry of women
is strong and does not require you to approve of it.
She's writing you off while she's writing it.

.   .   .

The poetry of women
is much different from the poetry of men.
'Tis no mere poem, but a tiny piece of her soul.
Lloyd Johnson Jul 2014
I believed that we'd be beautiful.
I hoped, wished, and prayed
that no matter what happened, we'd be beautiful.
I wanted us to go the distance, to see the stars, and to dance with the stars as well as watch the stars dance.
I ached for your undivided attention and wished you'd only talk to me
Forever.
I needed you
when you didn't need me and that's alright.
Because I didn't write this to make you angry
I didn't write this to make you sad.
I did it because I knew if I never told you how I felt,
I'd spend the rest of my life following you.
Whether I wanted to or not.
Lloyd Johnson Jul 2014
My sister told me no listens to me.
It hurt for a second and then I so casually resumed my everyday life.
How could no one listen to me?
Why would anyone tune me out?
It slowly began to grow inside of me and it wasn't until just now,
Writing this poem that I realized.

No one listens to me
because I have nothing worth while to say.
Lloyd Johnson Feb 2015
The first man
Is the worst man...
Lloyd Johnson Jul 2014
I'm not your second choice
I'm not your afterthought
I can't be
Lloyd Johnson Feb 2015
Skin like chocolate
Beautiful dark knight
Trying and trying as he might
To save little ole me
And I'm wondering why, oh why, of all people is he looking

Dear boy
Didn't anyone teach you any manners?
If I wanted to be found
I'd find you.

— The End —