I've written 64 poems about you.
Let this be the last.
I plead and I beg you,
Become a thing of my past.

If you love me
Then leave me
Like you left me before,
When you left me for dead on our ***-tainted floor.

Get out, get out of my brain and my head,
Out from under my skin and the sheets of my bed.

I'm not asking for our memories to be all erased,
Just asking to ease the pain of lovesick and daze.
I'm asking for my thoughts to be clear of this haze,
And to find love easier than in the paths of this maze.

Is it too much to ask to come down from your high?
To remove the imprint of handprint from my hideous thigh?
To fall down from something which once made me fly?
This rhyme scheme's a mess and I can only guess why.
It symbolises the chaotic and desperate tears that I cry.
And I cry off my makeup only to reapply
Mascara tears that give me another black eye.
And I cry and I cry till my eyes are run dry.
Want to know something else I hate about I?
I said this is the last but I know that's a lie.

Persistently you go
But she still says no,
Damaging your ego.
Then finally you date her
Though you know you'll learn to hate her
Like you hated all the rest.
But still you try your best.
High maintenance, she puts you to the test.
You accuse her of being a cheater
Which justifies how you beat her,
And the way you mistreat her.
Know you should be sweeter
But still you fail.
Repeat of past lovers,
You bail.
She's just like the others.
Girls are all the same
And *** and love are games.
Boy, don't you feel ashamed?
You think relationships are lame
So you again you quit;
Go find a hit
Because reality is ****.
You need a high to escape
From the feelings you hate
And the fear in her face.
But what's this? Now you want her back?
Realised she's the one who kept you on the right track?
Sober up and then you beg her to stay,
Beg her not to go away,
And not to leave you by yourself
Like an unwanted book collecting dust on the shelf.
Your power over her has gone,
She knows she's done no wrong,
Now she's singing better songs
About how she's moved on
So she ups and leaves.
She saw right through the tricks all hidden up your sleeves.
Should've treated her better
While you had the chance.
She's wearing someone else's sweater
She ain't under your trance
She ain't under your spell
Because now she's with somebody who can treat her well.

Your passion is poison and
aggressive like venom.

With your teeth in my lips,
and your firm grip
in my ***-tangled hair,
I was pressed tightly
against your door.

My heel marks are
probably still on that wall,
persistently reminding you
of those nights where
we never made it
to the bedroom.

Your wrists were already scarred
but now so are mine,
with the memory of
your fingers firmly around them.

I used to find it creepy
How you'd watch me undress so intently.
But now I find myself fighting to, for just a moment, catch your eye.

We used to feel lucky
Because I had you and you had me.
But these days I'm no longer the one who can make you fly.

You used to seem happy
When we would sit and we would just be.
But you realised I'm not like the drugs that can make you high.

It's somewhat funny
But it's also somewhat sad.

I can be surrounded by dozens of people, family, friends...
Yet feel so alone.
So empty.

Or I can be with you.
Only you.
And my world is complete.

Do you remember the sparks when we kissed that night?
In the sky, in my soul, in your eyes.
November fireworks both within and without.

Your veiny hands cup my face while your lips settle on my forehead.
My inner child uncontrollably grins at the fairytale cliche which, in this moment, my life has become.

Crazy am I driven by the idea,
the possibility,
of another's kiss on your collarbone.
I recall St Valentine's Day,
when your **** Jagger lips told me
'I'm yours'
with such sincerity
and that I could hold you to it.
And I will.