.
.
.
Hello ex-Hubby,
I meant the handsome dystopian boy,
currently, I'm writing you the sin
I remembered that craved the most,
when I dared to
penetrate my colorful virtue spot again.
to ride the last whole night car with you
in a hurry,
and forget about the evil you,
hating women, dressed in your dark flurry.
I embraced those tiny white palms in my head.
when they refused to touch me back and ride ahead.
instead of losing interest
and forget about reverence you physically,
I kept my fingers crossed secretly,
under the car seat,
next to the prestigious scent of yours.
Your North African amber eyes
that refused to match mine,
to get lost between their depressed universes and shine.
I prayed along this magnificent time,
to God so he could with his 99 mercies
make you fully mine.
The lava that burst divinely
out of your Tunisian delicate betrayed my senses
and lit the full hungriness towards your beguilement.
I encouraged my half stability
to make it through
a little bit far from you,
my hallowed brew
with every single meter that we've passed
I fluctuate amid the idea of capturing you devilishly or sacredly, between making some blood contracts with the devil itself,
or donate as much money as I could,
for the sake of being together,
burring ourselves on an old bookshelf.
trichotillomania; the colorless ferocious ogre,
that used to assault my bright aesthetic soul,
as a tight fatal choker
to remind it chastely,
of the imperfection portrait of mine.
and pursue its pride with a fiery scourge,
matted with brine
when I started to rise my jaded fingers
to covet those golden cheeks.
I failed!
the deficiency is capturing me
The keloid I hated the most
as I carry my dramatic havoc away,
a little bit away,
from your inner fray
pathetically, I turned my whole feelings
against my well ignoring the idea of
love Subliminal and its spell
facing the windscreen
that harshly afford me a great frustration
trying to cover my hope with trash sack and provocation.
I failed,
escaping the life blackmail,
convincing me to practically disbelief on you.
But I kept myself as holy as I dared to.
despite of my Viscera's beating,
crumbling and shrinking.
I kept my grin harmfully, blinking.
under your realm seeking for a light of your anger that will
console me again. and bring me home.
Happy Birthday!
.
.
.
Apr 12, 2024
Apr 12, 2024 at 12:03 AM UTC
.
.
.
Hello ex-Hubby,
I meant the handsome dystopian boy,
currently, I'm writing you the sin
I remembered that craved the most,
when I dared to
penetrate my colorful virtue spot again.
to ride the last whole night car with you
in a hurry,
and forget about the evil you,
hating women, dressed in your dark flurry.
I embraced those tiny white palms in my head.
when they refused to touch me back and ride ahead.
instead of losing interest
and forget about reverence you physically,
I kept my fingers crossed secretly,
under the car seat,
next to the prestigious scent of yours.
Your North African amber eyes
that refused to match mine,
to get lost between their depressed universes and shine.
I prayed along this magnificent time,
to God so he could with his 99 mercies
make you fully mine.
The lava that burst divinely
out of your Tunisian delicate betrayed my senses
and lit the full hungriness towards your beguilement.
I encouraged my half stability
to make it through
a little bit far from you,
my hallowed brew
with every single meter that we've passed
I fluctuate amid the idea of capturing you devilishly or sacredly, between making some blood contracts with the devil itself,
or donate as much money as I could,
for the sake of being together,
burring ourselves on an old bookshelf.
trichotillomania; the colorless ferocious ogre,
that used to assault my bright aesthetic soul,
as a tight fatal choker
to remind it chastely,
of the imperfection portrait of mine.
and pursue its pride with a fiery scourge,
matted with brine
when I started to rise my jaded fingers
to covet those golden cheeks.
I failed!
the deficiency is capturing me
The keloid I hated the most
as I carry my dramatic havoc away,
a little bit away,
from your inner fray
pathetically, I turned my whole feelings
against my well ignoring the idea of
love Subliminal and its spell
facing the windscreen
that harshly afford me a great frustration
trying to cover my hope with trash sack and provocation.
I failed,
escaping the life blackmail,
convincing me to practically disbelief on you.
But I kept myself as holy as I dared to.
despite of my Viscera's beating,
crumbling and shrinking.
I kept my grin harmfully, blinking.
under your realm seeking for a light of your anger that will
console me again. and bring me home.
Happy Birthday!
.
.
.
Request permission to use this poem