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(I wrote a new poem and it really means something to me so I thought I would share it.)


I want you to make love to me,
But not for why you think.
It’s not just for lust,
Or just a feeling my body craves.

I want you to make love to me
Because I crave to feel all of your skin
Pressed against my own bare flesh.

I want you to make love to me
To calm all of the thoughts in my head
That try to make me doubt your pure intentions.

I want you to make love to me
And speak beautiful words from your perfect lips,
So they can drift into my ears like music.

I want you to make love to me
Because I long for the light touch,
And kisses that will come before the fire.

I want you to make love to me,
While I tell you all these rough fantasies,
But want this at the very same instant.

I want you to make love to me
As I admire just how handsome you are,
Through the light shining in through the window.

I want you to make love to me
So I will be held and taken care of
Once you have ruined me in the best ways.

I want you to make love to me
Because I want you to understand
Just how much love I will always have for you.

I want you to make love to me
For all of these alternate reasons.
But I have no words to speak to make you realize what I mean.
So I wrote you this stupid poem instead.


I love you
Arii 7d
If you really love me,
Why won’t you show it?
If you really love me,
Why won’t you say it?

Why won’t you show me that
                                                     you
Don’t love me anymore?
Why won’t you tell me that you

Don’t want me anymore?
That you don’t care, you don’t care,
You care? Don’t you say?
Why don’t you walk away?

Why won’t you send me away,

Like how you
                         Always
Let my presence          fade?

Like how you

                         Loved me?
People have always been so terribly, terribly confusing, huh?
Arii 7d
What am I
if I can’t give?

What am I if I can’t be
The best of the best,
Top of the peak,
if I won’t kneel at the feet
Of the rest of the world
That’s dry and bleak,
If I can’t climb and
claw my way up?

What can I do,
Who can I be?
If I am not
The tallest be
-ing
In a crowd of giants,
Unreliability
Is a skill or something
To get on
And trample people
like they’re
Ladder rugs

To be

The
highest
one
can
be.
"You are worth the value of your product," They say.
Arii Jul 10
The purpose of living has always been up for debate.
It’s always been humans making use of their lives
to ponder the reasons why we’re alive at all.
It’s always about knowing
the “why” and the “how,”
in the process failing to
see the “should” and the “will.”
It’s easy for us to agree that
the world is a canvas;
malleable and flexible,
blank and waiting—yet
we’re so desperate to find an answer to our reality
that we forget that
there’s more to existing than clawing at
infertile soil and dormant seeds, more than
painting our own rain and sunshine, more than sobbing
on our knees to marble and gold.
It’s ironic when you think about it,
there’s not much more to life
than going through the motions
and yet
there’s so much more to life
than just existing. They always say
that there’s a difference between living
and existing,
but when was the last time anyone actually stopped to realise it?
“We want to know what separates us, what do others respect about us? More importantly, what do we respect about ourselves?”
The quote this poem was somewhat inspired by
Aphrodite Jul 1
I don't have long
Trying to win your love
She wants you more
You want me to my core
I know you do
A triangle of mess
The passion in your pools
Make me a fool
A smile that could be wicked
It tears my calmness to shreds
When I see the glint in your eye
The hint in the arch of your brow
Needing those full lips on mine
And they will belong to me
Please give them to me
I am your Aphrodite
I love him
It's what I crave,
The thing I desire,
But I'm not that brave,
So I just admire,

Admire the one,
For whom I do live,
Without whom I'm none,
There's not much to give,

So what if I ain't,
That guy that she likes,
Should I just faint,
Or give it more tries?

Can't I be loved by any other,
Is that task just way too much,
I never wanted to be a bother,
But if I am but seen as such,

Should I give up after all,
Just be... me myself and I,
Won't I really make one fall,
For who I am.... Wait who am I?
Aphrodite Jun 23
I feel out of reach
Of the things you want to teach
My desperation shows on my face
That you are not in my place
I want your power over me
So blind that I cannot see
I won't notice the error of my way
Please let me be your desperation today
Give me some sign I'm yours
Write me into your stories of lore
Make me your main character too
The one who triumphs over you
I will steal whatever you want me to
Hire me, instruct me what to do
I'm reaching for your hand
Just tell me where to land
The desperation of living
BloodOfSaints Jun 22
I wasn’t there
when you spilled your pain like holy wine,
offering yourself to silence,
but the silence did not take you.

You did not fall-
not into the dark abyss,
but back into light,
a reluctant resurrection.
Jeremy Betts Jun 7
I sip on a drink
My demise firmly in hand
Desperate to not think
But my demons stay on-brand

©2025
I open my ribs.  
peeling back the sinews and  
capillaries with precision.  
The crack of spreading bones,  
my chambered apparatus laid  
delicately on the table.  
  
My implement extracts its pound
onto the slab with intention,  
pulled and pressed till it's paper  
thin and bled out. Soulspeak scrawled  
in the crackling veins of my parchment.  
  
I put my machinations on display  
for onlookers, merchants  
and collectors  
but none seem to gather any interest.  
Skinpull another page  
but nothing sells  
or charms or foments.  

I pack my wares and  
toss them onto the pile of  
my dried out corpse scattered  
on the floor.  
Failure.  
Another procedure.  
Relent, repeat, cut deeper.  
And hope to find a reader.
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