This poem,
I pen,
for a dazzling *****
a putrid beauty,
a gilded deceiver,
who plays me around
and tosses me out
as whenever she feels.
No heart beats inside her,
she is harsh and uncaring,
she's cold and unfeeling,
passion-inflaming,
setting fire to thoughts
of her and none else.
Leaves me restless,
powerless,
doting upon
that big nose,
those sweet lips,
her stumpy legs,
her luscious hair,
her gentle face,
that lovely smile-
her,
her,
her,
in a word-
her,
that hideous girl!
I am lost,
dazed,
unsure-
Is this love?
Is it hate?
Or is this something,
in between?
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 8:39 PM UTC
This poem,
I pen,
for a dazzling *****
a putrid beauty,
a gilded deceiver,
who plays me around
and tosses me out
as whenever she feels.
No heart beats inside her,
she is harsh and uncaring,
she's cold and unfeeling,
passion-inflaming,
setting fire to thoughts
of her and none else.
Leaves me restless,
powerless,
doting upon
that big nose,
those sweet lips,
her stumpy legs,
her luscious hair,
her gentle face,
that lovely smile-
her,
her,
her,
in a word-
her,
that hideous girl!
I am lost,
dazed,
unsure-
Is this love?
Is it hate?
Or is this something,
in between?
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