Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
our souls
keep trying to touch

but our bodies
seem to be in the way
*** means something
again
 Oct 2017 Jekaterina Maslova
BR
He drew a figure eight on my spine, absentmindedly,
and traced the nape of my neck with his fingertip when he said,
“You are beautiful to me.”

But the ellipsis in the silence spoke louder than he did, and the look in his eye was not born because I was lovely;
It was not because he loved me.

A thing too small for love-
But far too large to be lust;

Simple. Ugly.

He looked at me like he was hungry.

So sweetly he critiqued each curve, every line, blurring my edges with the images of every bent perception pulled from the mire of his mind;

and I
could not
satisfy


Pretty innocence diminished in the grip of his vice,
Pressed tight against my body, despised in dark eyes.
I am not the inhuman creatures you contrived in the middle of the night.
I am not the feminine expression of your ******* pride.

What a wicked crime,
to take a woman’s body and leave the woman behind.
There's a box
It has a lock
The lock needs a key
The key is hidden
Only you can find it
Hint
Heart
A choice
A riddle
a cliff
Ends in the start
You fall
You break
Music ignites
Music is evil
If you win
You die
If you lose
You get the key
Where's the game
The game is lost
Find it
You win
Destroy it
You lose
A rose
A bush
Some thorns
A storm
No snow
Maybe Ice
Fire for sure
You guess
You lose
A lion
Sings a lullaby
Calls it the heart
The key is inside
Destroy the key
You win
Keep the key
You lose
To live
Open the box
A bullet
No gun
How can you die
Find out
You win
Ignore it
You lose
Define it
You die
You kiss me,
You grab me
You lean me back to see the ceiling fan,
You instruct me on how to kiss you back

You had nothing to drink that night,
I had too many shots

I had a breakdown,
I needed to get out
I was trapped under you,
I said your girlfriend was my best friend

I said it wasn't right,
You didn't listen when I said no

You locked the door,
You wouldn't let me get my phone
You wouldn't let me see my friend,
You asked me if I loved you

You kept pestering me with questions,
I had to give you the answer you wanted

I cringed when you got close,
I stopped being able to breathe
I screamed through empty lungs,
I cried and cried and cried

I loved someone else,
You didn't care

"Inevitable. It was inevitable," you said.
Never fall in love with a poet
for their words are sometimes lies
on occasions they're a shield
on occasions a disguise

They will take you on a journey
upon which they bare their soul
in a bid to ease your burdens
in a bid to make you whole

But in every word they choose
for the stories that they tell
lies a little piece of heaven
and a little piece of hell

Tormented souls we poets are
sometimes quite broken and despaired
in search of lost expressions
missed by others who once cared

Never fall in love with a poet
unless you're prepared to share their pain
to hold them close on the darkest nights
over and again
Follow me on Twitter @athomashawkins
http://twitter.com/athomashawkins
"Nothing's wrong"

Nothing except I'm a burden

"It's whatever"

It's driving me insane

"The new bracelets? I just like them"

They hide my paintings

"It's nothing"

It's everything and it's killing me

"It's just a scratch, forget it"

My paintbrush is a bit sharp

"It's barely bleeding"

Red's my favorite color

"I'm just a little tired"

I just want to go home and paint again

"Nothing a little sleep can't fix"

I always said I'd sleep when I'm dead anyway

"I love all of you guys"

I'm sorry...

"I'll be fine"

Once I finally finish my masterpiece

"See you tomorrow"*

But tomorrow won't ever come...
Not for me anyway
So soon the jagged strokes of her paintbrush overwhelmed the canvas on her wrist....
(Front Page 8/26/17)
I am overwhelmed with emotion
                       Like a bottle of coke...
                       Waiting to be shaken
                       It pours out of me
                       Like an eruption
                       I have no self control
                       I'm shaking...
Some days I feel like I am stuffed in a cage and the two inmates that are with me are called anxiety and rage.
Next page