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Alex Kabat Dec 2020
i crack open
like some kind of piñata,
crumbling on the floor
leaking hurt,
the desire for her to be
someone she cannot.

dressing myself in streamers
yet naked to the core

a sickly sweet ache
drips down my esophagus
coating my throat until there is no room
for forgiveness;
of her,
but also myself.

the saddest shade of irony:
demolished by the same hands
that once promised healing

this pity party is over.
Maria Monte Jun 2020
I stand before you
my pieces put together in shapes
that do not cut when you get close
edges turned onto myself

press your lights against my chest
the coloured pieces of my hurt
shine in a mosaic
"you are so fragile, love"
"let me take care of you"

My eyes are closed
and I let myself be swallowed
into your words
they are cold but embracing
possessive and enveloping

Cradled and helpless
my pieces shift for the mold you've made
you tell me my pain is beautiful
and I let you eat my pieces up
until there is no more of me

and there I am, an empty shell
looking to be filled
seeking for the hands
and hoping they give me back

I don't know who I am without you.
You're not saving me. You're not fixing me. You're just eating me up to make yourself feel full until I am all gone.
The Willow Feb 2018
My dependency wasn’t entitled to trial
Denial can only beguile
so long as it holds up the final we fold up
And take from our hands evidence that we wrote up

But trust me
You must see
The irony
Disgusts me
It just means
You drugged me
With your formation of dependent depression
It’s always in session with you in my life
And its coping comes quickly
Evidence of your beckoning
Attachment not lessening
Your silence deafening
Leaving me
Dead and he
Didn’t even
Look behind his poison to see the reason
He hadn’t died in his sleep
I slept by him and weeped
I could have died by the drink
But he denied it, thinking
I wasn’t in danger if I was alone,
That the danger’s in strangers.
But the danger’s explained here
As being with him and he
Couldn’t even see

Our death sentences his read
Despite her
Mine smeared,
**Because of
Chase Gallagher Feb 2017
I met this woman that ruined my life.
I say woman and not girl because she isn't naive;
she knows exactly what she doing and the mayhem she causes.
She's enticing in a way that makes you feel bad about yourself.
The kind of beauty that you wouldn't bring home to mom and dad because it would make them embarrassed for having a son that loved something so evil, it could turn the pope himself in to something made entirely of sin.
She turned best friends into mortal enemies.
Her beauty is chaos,and anything that crosses her path turns into such.
She possesses the strength of allure that ruins your ability to enjoy anything else ever again.
This defining characteristic is what makes her evil because she knows it and thrives off of the destruction left in her wake.
I more than hate her,
I hate myself for ever loving her.
She is the anti-thesis of what it means to be pure of heart.
Her name is ****** and I hope she dies.
Mike Rollain Apr 2016
Our love is measured
(I should have defended myself better
But you were drunk and
I knew you wouldn't remember)
By the embarrassment that binds us together
Brent Kincaid Mar 2016
I don’t like you
But I love you.
I can hear you asking me
How can that possibly be?
You either love me
Or you hate me.
But that really isn’t reality.
Your behavior is ******* me.

It’s true, I love you
But, things you do
Are some actions I hate
Quite obnoxious of late;
You carry on badly
And often quite madly.
I don’t want you around then.
Come back when sane again.

The you that I like
Has taken a hike
And left behind a spoiled brat
Who has no idea where it’s at.
You once were sweet
As anyone could meet
Then you fell for your own hype
And I never enjoy that type.

No, I don’t like you
But I do love you
And that makes it really tough
But loving you is not enough
To see you daily
And act all gaily
When I can’t stand what you do.
Because I really don’t like you.
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