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You can burn this book                                                                        ­                                            
Watch it die in the flames                                                           ­                                                 
                                                                ­                                              
  Every word that is in it                                                               ­                                                   
                                                                ­                                              
Won't make anything okay                                                                        ­                                                   
It's all about you & I                                                                       ­                                                      
                                                                ­                                                
How much I sacrificed                           
                                                                                          ­                             
It's about a man who cheats                                                                      ­                                             
When caught, he tells lies                                                                      ­                                                     
A story about a broken heart                                                                     ­                                                
  That once had a loving start                                                                        ­                                                      
 It questions why we're here                                                                  ­                                                    
Why these roads were never cleared                                                                   ­                                                      
I read it whenever I think that I                                                                    ­                                             
Want to give us another try
Viktoriia Apr 6
a little bit of violence goes a long way.
say no to your reflection,
watch it fall apart into scattered fragments.
all of them are still you, remember?
now they can be used as a concealed weapon.
if you choose to do so, aim at the heart,
for you're not a butcher, you're a sculptor,
and this shard isn't a knife, but a scalpel.
watch the lines disappear as you cut.
it's unlike you to worry about blood
as long as it doesn't stain your dress,
as long as you lose some parts
in the process,
getting rid of all the unwanted layers.
all of them used to be you, remember?
kept asleep by injections,
kept awake by the pain.
flaws don't have a say on the matter.
a little bit of violence goes a long way.
Emery Feine Apr 6
I'm not my father.
Water is thicker than blood.
I refuse to rot.
I hate haikus
You are in the corner you backed me into                                                                   ­                                              
 How does it feel to wear the other shoe?                                                                        ­                             
Tables have turned & I'm not going back                                                                         ­                                                  
 to being the rag doll in your attacks                                                                     ­                                               
Who's wearing your pants right now.              
                                                                ­                                               
Who's mouthing off, feeling **** proud?                                                                       ­                                              
Don't you just want to take control?                                                         ­                                                                 ­             
                                                   ­                                                               
 See how really deep you dug your hole?                                                                   ­                                        
I'm sure you don't know what this is                                                                    ­                                                      
  I always sat there & took your ****                                                                        ­                                                       
I think it's about time that you & me                                                                      ­                                       
Changed our shoe's permanently
Power struggles are real .
she was,
"catch of the century"
one in a ball game of,
a googolplex of pitches
and I catch her
every century
of love's timing
like,
    a meteor
          among meteors
                 riding the waves of
                         a supernova on the rim
             of the event horizon
        of our star-crossed fates
marks the spot
home base
we were in love
as earth and moon
in dance
in trance
in eternity
upon the thin ice of space
curling with the flows of time itself
we were the continuum of love
unfurling into dream
budding romances anew
like orchards
caskets of poetry
fermented odes of promise
     to one anther
uncorked,
every summer of our lips, entwined,
open to the experience of being
      conjoined between our hips, locked,
            and interlocking, for hours
              letting our waters flow up
        and
    down
                 stream
             past
the
           point of living
                  for the sake of sweat forbidding
panting breath
stealing motion from tiring
       treading life through rest
                we tread not flesh but the waters
of love itself
      drank from each other
             the secrets
of our love for each other
until none were had
and only that
                        which was truth, remained
and the secret was us, our love, and its fire
the passion aglow
in the magma chambers of the furnace being our future
calling us into the union of what was
      into the future of what could never be again
             that being, our
         loneliness,
                           our time apart, and our time together
                wed into our time
all our time was ours, as I lost myself to her
and she
              lost herself to me, and I forgot her
           as
               I could only remember myself
                            and she
in forgetting me,             could
                          remember       only herself
and I, in remembering myself, only knew her, my lover, herself
and she responded, "My love. I will never forget you..."
                                    "You are memory, and to forget you..."
is to no longer love her,
                                         and since
time has answered our yearning
for love need be deeper
than wood root
deeper than word
                                roots of iron would rust
                                and love needs air with water
                                iron would melt, forgetting itself
                                in the heat of such love betwixt us
                                envy would poison other lovers
                                so, worlds apart from other lovers
& their passions
we needed space and time
and the answer came, in that twilight of memory,
lost to the abandon of all life, we transpired the love of
all things other,
all things not us,
                 not we
                 not true love
I forgot, how her father beat her,
               when my touch, could enter her womb
               grasp her ovarian limbs
               and tell her mother she was safe with me
               and all her mothers became the song of letting go
               for my touch was that without harm
                                                       without sin
                     my touch was that which sought hope
                                       brought meal to her heart
                                       quilt to her nerves
                                       time to her wounds
                                       comfort to her fears
                and myself became distinct from all that be "men"
                                                           ­                    in her eyes
                                                            ­         glad, her heart became
                                                   her man I transcended all otherwise
                                          to be
                                                   the answer to her wanderlust
                                                      ­                                          for lovers
                                          I became her sole lover
                                                           ­       Only, was my name
                                     she was mine - already
                      and bound, as two wedding rings, became our roots
                      I knew her deepest pleasures,
                                                      ­   pain became my enemy
                                                           ­                     in her name,
                                                           ­                     my adversary
found love, in me, she had
and Love became our messenger,
                                         itself the tree, whose flesh was truth; us,
         whose bark was no animal speech,
                                       no madness compeled it
                                       no age marked its passage through time
only secrets of truth wound its coils of being
only truth spoke its limbs, chorused its fruit,
                   sighed its leaves in autumn
                                               chaste its death from winter
                                          its canopy was the spring
                                                     of all possibilities
and we were the plume of being
        the evergreen oasis of marriage,
                                                itself of our founding
                                                        ­      our purpose
                                                         ­            perfection
              eldritch in              cthulian tembre, our love,
                                 unsightly, in the eyes of
                                                              ­             hate's beholders
        the glare of the blindness unmasked
        their ignorances,
                                     absent of the light of knowing
                           truth absconded,
                           they were              set aflame by revelation
                   the rapture of guru, sage
                                            mystic, gnostic
                                            yogi, and all holies,
                                            suckling the fruit of
                                            mysteries long beheld
                                            at the foot of God Himself
                                            plucked from the tree of itself
                                                          ­                              the
                               ­                                                         understa­nding
itself, the wisdom granted, as if
                                                as if 't'were holy water,
                                                as if they wert gossamer cotton aflame
          no constitution for the raw love of wisdom itself
                no breath for humility
                     no peace for surrender, even, could they bear
the audacity, beheld in them, was them
all that
            was left
                          of shame
                                          transfixed, crucified, undone by experience
                          approaching, not of its arrival had they perished
             of its approach, unfit for the wisdom,
                                          in the understanding
                                          of our love had they cremated
                                                        ­                       in themselves
                                                      ­                         all hope for life
                                          they perished of their own futures
             and became the everliving of themselves
that no future beheld them, for the past
                                                            ­         became the limit
                                                           ­          of their potentials
             she and I became, that love untouchable
                                                     ­         imperishablee
                            even unto
                      us,
                           except in the perfect approach
                              hermeticized, canoes set as pyres
                                 where death goes to live
                                     we die by giving to life again
living anew in love
perfection, the price of being
and to fail, death again,
                    absolute, in failure,
                                     death be, my love, me
for adultery wouldst be, my silver bullet
due her, every moment
                she, the scorpion
                her tale, of another's bed,
                                                            ­ like Hailey's comet,
the shaft bore
                        in my soul
                        gored by weeping
                        my frailty, my honor sundered
                as Jericho, bore by powers untold
                but told, all the same,
                                                       she be my death,
                                                       my living be her demise
should faithlessness be her love
i be ******
                      till never I be
                                              in life
                                              never I
                                              be
for to breathe
is to live for love
and my breath
she taketh
in love,                 and surely
the I be                 dead
                              without her love, spent of breath is my life

                              for my life is her love
                   the death of our love
                   my life be undone
                                                   partake, of my grave
                                                           ­        my supper
                                                          ­         my last meal
                                                   when the fox
                                                             ­        was the hen
                                                             ­                       all along...
"Love Is A Losing Game" is a song by Amy Winehouse.
The phrase is soberingly somber, tragic, but it's sooo true.

Some have said, "ALL is fair, in love & war," but only those who don't love, who are incapable of love, say and believe that, in my most absolute opinion.

Love becomes objectively unfair when one's lover loves, always, others.

People who believe love has limits, and who live to spend that excess energy, not on cultivating love, but on fornicating, orgying, adulterating of all their innocences to the point of insatiability with ***, into *******, and becoming vampiric, enjoying blood in their *******, cannibalistic even, of others, in *******, are, ultimately, those who burn WITH the devil, lucifer, and satan in the fires of revelations.

I believe (fear) this became of my soulmate(s).
That they desire. Because they did not believe that I am God's son, and lucifer is my sworn enemy. They worshipped, and may be due for the eternal fires...
Barb J Rose Mar 29
this love is not for me, this life doesn't worth with me
even though i search for this in my life, i know i never will get marry
the fear hunts me day and night in this forest of lie
you can't see through my face, you can't feel my disgrace
please don't treat me like a **** disease
i was born like this animal, by and melancholic
you feel the moment, i feel my past and my future raise it up
say again, my friend, what did you bet for?
when the sun goes down, my mania gets up
please don't treat me like a **** disease
just give me my medicines, i will get better soon
i wrote this a long time ago
Anonymous Mar 29
I've believed myself a sane man,
One aware of his every action and contradiction.
And I must confess my greatest crime

Being that I still love you.

A shameful truth I can't help but
Want to whisper to you.
Even now.
Even as you've deliberately tried to tear it away,
Abandon it to be left in the cold,
All while looking me in my eyes.

Except now, your eyes don’t hold the softness
You once promised belonged only to me.
Yet I see through your cold expression.
I see your lips quivering.
I know that you, too, suffer.
But I desire that you give in to it.
I beg of you to suffer.
Suffer with me.
Open your wounds to me.

But rather than choosing to succumb,
You refute.
You’ve chosen to plunge your hands
Deep into the most vulnerable parts of me,
The parts I promised were yours.
And yet, I still let you.
I want you to.
And I am a fool.

I hate that I am in servitude of you.
I hate that even through the images
I see of you,
Your skin against that of another man,
I still find inside me
A desire for you.
One now lined in hate.

A hate of what has become of you.
Of us.
But not you.

It pains me to see how easily
You summoned the will
To so casually give away what you cherished for us.
Not just your body,
But your heart.
And all for what seems to be
A desperate attempt to ignore your suffering.

A suffering I share.
One I bore.
And still do.

Enough to let me want
To keep staring into your empty eyes,
Looking for what used to be there.
What I know is there.
And I search, knowing that even when I find it,
I’ll refuse to return to you.

Because even if those fragments I touched remain,
They've been tainted.
They've been stepped on.
Destroyed.
And you chose to.

My words may seem cruel,
But all these words—
They are the words of an unrequited heart,
Arising from a man who still loves you.
Not the woman standing before him,
But the woman she was.

A woman who served as a bower,
Bringing a beauty I couldn't comprehend
Down to me.
Tangible.
Able to be felt.
Even if she couldn't herself.

And know this.
Even through your active attempts to hurt me,
I cannot lie but admit
You have forever saved a place in me.

And I'll live through it.
For you have enriched my life
Beyond a manner these words can conceive of expressing.
Only through my foolish attempts,
My suffering,
My willingness to still bleed for you,
Can I hope you at least understand
A fraction of what you have become to me.

So please—
If you must,
Hurt me.
One last time.

And when you cut my flesh,
Take as much away from me as you can.
Ensure the scar left behind will always draw my gaze.
Ensure that this part of me remains yours before you leave.

And I hope, through it,
You may understand
Who this girl I loved.
I still love
Was.

Why she was worth my suffering.
My tears.
My flesh.
My words.
My joy.
My future.
My kids.
My life.
My heart.

And in time’s passing,
A part of it
Will still call for you.
Feelings that will not see, reach, or touch
I look at us,
this broken mess we've become,
and all I feel is anger—
anger that we were supposed to be a unit,
a team,
a family—
but we are nothing but pieces of something that doesn't exist anymore.
You failed me.
Each one of you.
I'm lost in the rubble of what we were,
in the emptiness you left behind
when you choose your own needs
over what we were supposed to share.
I try to remember the good days,
but I can't.
Every happy memory feels like a lie now,
a story I told myself to keep the pain at bay.
I envy the people who have real families,
who don't know the taste of hollow promises,
who never feel the ache of knowing
that the ones who are supposed to love you
are the ones who destroy you the most.
And you—
you with your empty words and broken actions—
you don't even see it,
do you?
How much you hurt me
by pretending that everything was okay
when it wasn't.
You still don't get it.
You still don't care.
And the anger builds up,
like fire in my chest,
raging against the truth I've had to swallow:
We will never be whole again.
You broke us.
And I hate you for it.
Ivan Mar 28
but what if
I hate that I love her!?
Barb J Rose Mar 25
i'm not in the mood to talk right now
save your prayers to another day
keep your hands to yourself today
'cause i'm not in the mood, i'm not in the mood
you spoke the three words, the taboo ones
you praised me to my bones
but somehow i don't love you
i want you to hate me, throw me away
please don't talk to me, i'm on my way
away from your arms, away from your cries and actions
taking a step back, trying to move back from where we were
so simple and unspoken
bleeding and broken
and i'm not in the mood, i'm not in the mood
read this poem and then "You never loved me"
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