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Madame Eleanor Aug 2016
She said she wanted to be treated like a goddess-
So I praised her mind, her humor, her beauty.
Yet she wasn't happy.

I offered her my love, my time, gifts, and acceptance
But she was unimpressed by it.  

Head bent I worshipped her body
And she wanted more.
I wished to give her everything-
I was so devoted to her.

I tried to write what she meant to me- explain how I'd be lost without her.
Still my words didn't seem to matter.

She wanted to be treated like a goddess.
She wanted sacrifice and pain.
So she ripped out my heart
And spat out my name.
Madame Eleanor Jun 2016
You bit my lips,
Then traced them with your fingertips.
You left me speechless.

You pierced my skin,
Like breaking in,
Straight through my defenses,
You made me helpless.

You ripped out my eyes, so I couldn't see.
I became blind so I could choose to believe
That you could choose to suffer loyalty,
That you were actually looking at me.

And you numbed my brain,
My thoughts entangled,
My sense disabled
It felt like a migraine.

I covered my ears,
From your words I couldn't bear to hear.
You were bored by my tears.
I once held you dear.
You were becoming my worst fear.

My heart you hurt worst of all.
The pain was often dull, but it dragged on and on.
Madame Eleanor Apr 2016
You kissed my forehead,
Imprinting the feel of your lips onto my brain.
You kissed my stomach,
And gave it butterflies.
You kissed my lips,
With yours ever full of lies.
You kissed the lids of my eyes,
And I saw our future together.
You kissed my neck,
And I craved you.
You kissed my hand,
Though you usually held it.
Last time you did this you kissed me goodbye,
This time you didn't even smile.
That's how I knew you meant it,
And that this time it was permanent.
Madame Eleanor Apr 2016
I sing myself ballads,
And cry o'er your letters.
You said this would be better,
Did you forget what we had?

Lovesick, delirious.
I'm thinking of us,
All of that love
That there once was.

Dear, you've forgotten me.
Stranger, you loved me.
Madame Eleanor Mar 2016
It's been five months.
It hurts to even write that, more than my flowery words can describe.
Such a long time,
Yet it feels like yesterday that you were mine.
I've been lying.
For five months I've been telling them I'm over it. Over you.
I was lying to myself too.

The truth, dear, is that it still hurts just as much right now as the moment when you said you didn't love me.
God, I remember it perfectly.
And secretly, even more pathetically, I still love you as much as I did then,
And as I did five months in.

I thought it would help if I hated you,
But that's exhausting.
I thought I needed time alone,
I made myself lonely so I could be whole on my own.
I thought I needed to move on,
I've done that, like I ought.
My darling, he's sweet, and smart, he makes me laugh, why is it not enough?
He's good but we'll never be in love.
I thought I just needed time.
But it's been five months.
****** poem, but I've not written in forever and I'm a mess right now.
  Mar 2016 Madame Eleanor
Bo Burnham
You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen.
And I know that.

But I can't rediscover it every ******* day.
I can't return to that epiphany
every time my alarm clock goes off.
It's unnatural.

But what I can do, and do quite naturally,
is become jaded and unimpressed by it.
I can see your beauty as normal,
as one of my life's many constants.

I can climb atop its shoulders and travel about,
rolling my eyes at sunsets and rainbows,
dismissing all the beauty of the world as
less than average.

And I complain to you about it.
And you can deduce your beauty from that.
Madame Eleanor Feb 2016
The sadistic little cherub.
Inflicting painful love.
He isn't sensible, he isn't kind.
He doesn't care- for heart or mind.
He flies on fluffy angelic wings.
And golden arrows he absently flings.
He hits his target every time.
To make a sane man's pain sublime.
Into the hearts of unsuspecting victims.
He pierces and then watches
Falling in with reckless loves.
Fools and martyrs they become.
And all for a baby angel's fun.
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