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saranade Jan 2022
physically I have no symmetry
and it doesn’t even bother me
my physical state is electrical
and internally I am symmetrical

a love so big it's my counterpart
symmetrically matching my flesh parts
an existence created as a work of art
able to outsmart any black heart

understanding this duality
is the best of you loving the best of me
and I believe you will get there eventually
to your own symmetrical mentality
taking on the construct of what is socially deemed as beautiful
saranade Jan 2022
There's a spiders web
Of words I've said
Entangled in the calendar of time
A lovers rhyme of feelings

In minutes or moments or moves
I fell in love with you
A game of chess
Just to feel your breath upon me

I'd wish to call anyone
That singular one
The fable of teachings
Says we're reaching for something impossible

To not feel love across lanes
Indeed, sounds insane
We are wide, we are vast
We are fast to feel full at last.
Love is not singular
saranade May 2020
I know I can't be everything to you
But I can be something
That something is the best thing
It's the thing you'll love
You'll love to have

I don't want to be your everything
I want to be a golden something
The one thing you love
And more of that one thing
Is the everything I offer

That one magic thing you want
It's everything I am
It's everything I want to be
It's everything to be that one thing
It's everything for me

If I give you my everything
I know I can be that something
That beautiful thing
That you need in your life
It's my everything
It's me
saranade May 2020
I know where I stand
Familiar with where I fall
My brand of delusion
Tells it all

Secretive emotions
Inside vivid fantasies
A devotion to us
That no one sees

And you can tell me it's over
I'll play along
But, Lover, I never left you
Even though I'm wrong

I left you inside pain
Pain I caused
I'll refrain bringing it back
But never forget what was

I still smell your skin
Taste your body
Remember within
Nothing seems to stop me
saranade May 2020
I'm tired of this game.
That loneliness you now feel, has been my suffering for many years. It never mattered.
But it surely matters now, now that it's yours.
I'm tired of pretending.
Pretending that it wasn't you who made me feel that way, to begin with... Pretending that I'm worth anything other than my own suffering, some of which I caused and some I didn't.

It's a delusion I live with, I live inside of. This complex, multi-layered delusion that I'm good enough to be loved, by anyone, on any average day. A delusion that anyone would ever love me for me, as I've been made to be.

Being strong is a joke.
You can say it on repeat if you want to, but it's all a lie. We merely want others to be strong so that you, yourself can pretend to be strong.

Humans are weak.
Humans are selfish.
Humans are critical.
I say this with certainty, because I am human. I am critical. I am selfish. I am weak.

It's all a game.
Everyday I log into my single player game and I pretend my delusional thinking could ever actually be real. I pretend I'm like you, so you don't feel pity. You pretend I'm like you, so I don't hate myself.
Layers of lies, is all it is.

No person wants to cause the end, but the end is inevitable. If we are forced into living, we will also be forced into dying. It's uncontrollable...
Humans love control, though.

So this is the dilemma. It's not that you, or I, don't want to die, eventually, it's the control of when it happens. Which it will.

So we can sit around and cry about the uncontrollable nature that is this existence, or we can have a voice, have action, have meaning, have love, have purpose.

Because I didn't purposefully become different than you, it leaves me with a permanent state of "uncontrollable life". Unlovable. Unchangeable. Alone.

So I continue playing the game.
Eating the layers of this onion, so you can feel like you didn't contribute to the end. I'll eat this disgusting onion, so you feel better about what you've done. So that you can think I'm happy.

You can sleep peaceful knowing you fed me these onions... so I didn't end, outside of your control.
saranade Apr 2020
I remember holding your hand. I remember how nervous you were the first time we did. I don't think you were nervous because I’m a woman, I think you were excited. I'll never forget the shape of your hands, or how soft and squishy they are. They melted in-between the calluses of my boyish hands.

I remember how you'd touch me out in public. You weren’t nearly as touchy-feely as I am and so when you did, it mattered. I always felt that touch from you, it was invigorating. I could never keep my hands off of your body, maybe I diluted myself to you. Your skin was my everything.

I remember how much you wanted me near you, at all times. It felt like we reciprocated that attraction. We were addicted to each other. We both enjoyed feeding that addiction, no matter what we were supposed to be doing in the outside world.

I remember when you would crawl on top of my lap, while I was watching TV. It was as if you painfully, painfully needed me inside of you. I remember how easy it was to get where you wanted me. I remember the face you would make and I could determine what to do, purely based on your expressions and your eyes.

I remember the flavor of your sweat, even though you hardly would even glisten. I  knew exactly where to go, to taste it. I remember covering your body in my own sweat, I loved working that hard.

I remember how long it took me to figure out what worked for you. I remember being frustrated and let down with myself, in the beginning. i’ll never forget the magical moment that I figured it out. The pressure simultaneous with the motion. You told me I was the first person to ever give you an ******. Regardless of whether or not that’s true, I will never forget that you said so.
Love, I had it once.
saranade Mar 2018
I painted the pollution in the sky with my own blood
I was proud
So I sat below it, as it dripped back down
Puddle by puddle
I can see what it was that pain passed on
The pollution of my own wreckage
Thick, it choked my breath
I stress over my own twisted toxins
Carrying the weight of me
On my back

Back home.
Pollution of my thoughts. I'm my own interference.
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