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Eloisa Feb 3
Your lack of love does not diminish hers
Hers is a love that never ceases
Hers is a love that always forgives
Even with your promises that you can never keep
Eloisa Feb 3
I woke up chained in an erroneous love
I wept alone in my sorry state
The world’s quite deaf with all
my cries
I hurt myself and cursed my fate
The cuts are deep, my cup is emptied
The thread is thin and I’m hanging low
In my quiet moments of reflection
I held onto every bit of memory
On how sweet our love was used to be
The intentions were real but the truth is untold
Agonized as the lies unfold
Oftentimes I asked myself
of how  could you control me this much
Though I am tempted with hatred and overwhelmed with grief
My heart even ached with the thought of your touch
And much would I wanted to say it’s over, it really is this time
I still have a pull in my soul and on my mind
Though my life is torn apart,
my heart is still in bind
I know I shouldn’t feel this way
I know I shouldn’t have to care
After all I have realized, I never needed you
But then I knew exactly what is right, that it’s you who needed me
Kaitlin Evers Dec 2018
I thought I was good, but as I age
The more I see my human ways
I am deserving of God's fierce rage
Look and see how far I've strayed

Streaked and marred, let down my guard

Knowingly, walked into darkness
Foolishly I thought
The night would hide my sinfulness
I'd never be caught...

The light of God was blinding
But sin is the real binding
I preferred His hand in mine
To the crossing of the line

Wicked darkness
See His kindness
When knowing what He spent
How can I but repent
ph Jul 2018
There is so much power
in the delicate touch
of your hands caressing
my own.

Yet, this power, a force
even stronger than gravity,
and softer than a feather
binds me
to you.
Yea of course writing ideas unstoppably
burst asunder at the most inconvenient
opportunities such as driving Miss Daisy,
taking a shower, or using the bathroom.
Accursed ambition becoming a prolific
scrivener (case in point Stephen King)

Woolworth ridding, oddly lumbering
lackadaisically shoehorning out this
being from a self made gully. The jury
yet to decree if attempting to extricate
muss elf from tangled web of decades
old setbacks via literary output successful.

Every morning, noon and night, this chap
blunders, flounder, (like a phish out of water),
yet plod his shipshape reclusive quiet-natured
person along the boulevard of broken dreams.

Oft times, huff hind aye muss elf entering The
Dead Zone (bordering a Pet Sematary). Earlier,
a previous saunter found me surmounting
The Green Mile. Attendant in regard to these
Bag Of Bones, and Desperation to acquire

telephone contact with Cell phone quickens
pace despite Insomnia. No matter unexpected
Sleeping Beauties warrant kisses, my determination,
motivation, and slight trepidation occasionally breeds
(The Dark Half), doomsday facet heftily jackknifing ****.

Occasionally, a feeble goading simply under minds
any corporeal aim to restore endeavor to experience
Joyland. IT (creative juices within spur meeting Rose
Red and her restorative powers. Onward atheistic
soldier goes this chap. No matter tipping point (vis
a vis hungry fatigued body clamors for Needful Things.

Revival (for food and sleep) frequently appears grim.
Downcast state of body, mind and spirit reinforced
by mirage. The Dark Tower looms ahead! Adjacent
to ominous evil looking structure silhouette casted
of a Black House. The initial ambition to ward off
abysmal results summon forth creative literary juices.

Simultaneously a migraine headache pounding pitted LIX.
They hammer horrifically, ferociously, and diabolically.
Shades of shad rock Under The Dome. Ma noggin
aches like The Tommyknockers! Every attempt to locate
a royal crowning coeval counterpart jinxed with laborious
ill luck. **** in a hand basket plight usually generates
nostalgia for destiny to Carrie be back to Ole Virginny.

Sage advice from Christine, Delores Claiborne, or The
Colorado Kid, yours truly blithely heeded. As a result
(The Outsider within this paperback writer wannabe)
sports defeat written all over face. Concomitant figurative
futility gussies and kickstarts leaving invisible pockmarks.

Ordinary Dreamcatcher fate invariably finds aptly named
Writer Errs Block. Need to back track arises (figuratively)
along vista. The roads have no name. They command
stubborn respect. Near impossible mission manifested
to transcend mental hindrance. This more difficult than
playing Gerald's Game. Hence sigh embrace The Shining

opportunity to avoid Misery. Doctor Sleep would undoubtedly
encourage braving, challenging self confronting The Eyes
Of The Dragon. Such a risky pursuit could force facing pitbull
Cujo. No matter gamble foisted prospect fraught frightfully
being burned at the stake by a Firestarter. Voluntary action

brings small hairs to tingle. Hunchback, sans severely curved
spine straightens. This (The Stand) ding pose offered supreme
vision as promised by The Talisman. Tidbits by me alias
Mr. Mercedes reddit carefully Just in case The Girl Who Loved
Tom Gordon chanced to stumble upon this redoubt versus
her hours spent staring at a blinking cursor. Metaphorical
po' wet ick feet took me where they would.
Nayana Nair Feb 2018
I can’t hear your sighs

while you think I do not care enough.

I would love to bind myself and my life

around you,

Had I not been so sure

that freedom is the only measure of happiness for me.

The love they talk about

is not in my heart.

I can’t harbor such sweetness.

I can’t live in surrender.

I was not made for that.

My heart was made to be loved,

but to be cherished.

I won’t settle for anything less.

I do not ask for anything more.

My idea of love was never

the protection or sense of safety I always lacked.

Or admiration true or false

that could put to sleep the complexes I have.

Or to be touched in ways

that make human hearts race.

My idea of love was

to be so precious to someone

that they you never

change me or break me.

You changed me.

You broke me.

And I only remember the sighs you took while doing so.

Making me feel less than what I am.

But still, I breathe the same air as you,



You almost loved me.
Temporal Fugue Jan 2018
I tried not to be too obvious
adjusting, my package on the train
hand in pants, nonchalant
those in therapy, remain

No way to do it publicly
without gasps, or ridicule
underwear in a bind
nothing left too do

Avert your eyes, as you must
wearing my business suit
briefcase that won't hide
yes, the point, is moot

Mother's cover babies eyes
grandma eyes wide, and agape
fathers, brothers, sisters riled
no way, I can escape

as everyone, and anyone's
sensibilities, now defiled
Hey, sometimes, ya gotta get relief! ;D
Ryan Holden Oct 2017
Drip your ointment in
My flask, let it bind us both
Together as one.
Kaija Derycke Oct 2017
Spin silk threads trough the labyrint that binds me,
Over, under,
around and beside me...
and in the end

Come find me
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