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Spadille Jun 2021
I was not fed love on a silver spoon
Never have I ever tasted it
Thus, many questions runs in my mind
All due to curiosity of deprivation

Did love tasted sweet? was it addictive?
Was it never bitter to the taste?
I am clueless of it, for I was neglected
I grew not knowing how love tasted when spoon fed

But all this is a thing of the past now
A yesterday's misery
A mind once hungry of information
It is nothing but an unfortunate memory

Now I have learned to lick it off a knife
The taste of sweet love along with my blood
The pain is mixed with pure ecstasy
I savor it and close my eyes, I dream of heaven

It has became my new drug
I care not for myself as long I could taste love
This is the only self-destruction I have wished for
I accept it wholly, I give my heart to it
I come back stronger than a 90s trend
Lorraine Colon Mar 2021
When sad, empty eyes chance to rest upon
Other eyes fixed in a hopeless gaze,
What sweet fantasies overrun the mind--
Navigating love's enchanting maze

How the pulse quickens when love is the prize,
Like dried kindling, hope begins to burn;
But what pain when one heart greedily feasts,
And for the other shows no concern

What a dilemma when only one heart
Lights the darkness with love's burning flame;
Merciless anguish does not spare the rod
When Love's endeavor is put to shame

For what is the mainstay of caring hearts
If not love that's given in return?
Just as a candle's flame must extinguish
When there remains no wick left to burn

I've heard it said love begets love, and yet
Love's hunger still courses through my veins;
So my starving heart forages for crumbs
In Love's graveyard of decaying  remains

Unrequited love always takes its toll --
A forbidding toll each heart must pay;
Love cannot survive without sustenance,
Weakened by neglect, it fades away
You don't talk
but your eyes speak
Powerful words
that make me weak

I miss your touch
it has been a week
This sensory punishment
is your worst technique
His4Her is a series of poems with different points of view of fictional people
FrannyFoo May 2020
You are not like the rain
You never teased my skin
Planting ideas in my head
That grew roots in my heart
The acid Dripping from your tongue,
You burnt me.

The storm raged

The waters haven't calmed since.
I felt love, I Feel love, I bleed hurt
And long for a tsunami
To sweep me from this nightmare.
Come back
Break my skin
Please
Show me what it feels like to love again.
Let me dance in the toxicity
And bathe in the poison
Your scent
Your fumes
Paint
Dirt
Home
A fresh rain falls
I'm drawn back in

Let me drown
Chandy Feb 2020
Missed an hour
No problem
Missed 3 hours
That's a problem
At risk of disease
Not good
I've caught a cold
It's not even winter
Forgot something
What day is it?
Need to visit my grandpa
Hopped in the vehicle
Woke up
To shattered realization
If only I slept
At a daily rhythm
Cayley Raven Feb 2020
She likes to walk naked
along the midnight river
for there is a nightmare
denying her sleep

She´s trying to drown it
in depths of the water
but all the drowned fears
keep living indeed

Like moon to the sky
she keeps coming back
a figure of an angel
a statue made of steel

She parleys with her demons
to call off their threats
In clothes she was born with
her soul comes out to heal
Reviews appreciated !
Belle Dec 2019
if i put the same effort into getting out of bed that i do
starving myself
i would be so progressive
im gonna pass out
you dont look too good
i see it in your face
i havent been to school in 3 weeks because
getting out of bed is too hard
so i lay there
depriving my dog of playtime
and walks
so i could sulk in isolation
skipped work to nap
i cannot move
Orchid T Aspen Dec 2019
He prowls,
loose and deadly,
fears,
light and hungry.

But they don't tell him,
NO,
they don't tell
if they're laughing
or crying.

(Aren't they moving their mouths?)

He pleads,
flailing,
wanting to fail,
but he warns them, still,

(Why aren't you afraid?)

they don't stop him.

He should run,
save them.

(Please listen!)

He can't,
and black shields him.

(Stop hurting me.)

Void and
blinding
and gone,

he stands,
towers.

(Don't look at me.)

There are strands
on his fingers,
pulling the bones,
digging,
gripping,

touching,

(Tasting?)

next to nothing
around him,
and black pierces,
picks him.

(Where did they go?)

He hears them part,
then gnashes them,
gnaws them,
his snarls beg from them,

(Where did you go?)

and it panics,
urges,
burrows
in skin

(Get out of my ears.)

They sicken his eyes,
cover them,
throw them,

(Get out of my ears.)

sense leaves him with nothing.
As nothing,
he stands,

(Move.)

he prowls,

(Move.)

loose,

(Move me.)

deadly,

(Make me.)

and fears,

(Warn me!)

light,

(Me.)

and hungry.


;Narcissist.
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