I guess it is a comfort
where I'm supposed to be
I always wanted a forever
and the pain it follows me
If I can't have it one way
I can always have another
And I can share with others
And be sure to pull them under

Making sure they're next to me
Whether physical or memory
I am not too good to beg
for accessory

As I live and breathe
I wear it all upon my sleeve
I put my insides on display
slice and cut and cleave
My very own defense
against my emptiness
I'm broken but I'm open
and full of tenderness

I just entertained a fantasy
and set that thing on repeat
My eyes started to water
at all the things you said to me
I fed you all your lines
and gave you cues and clues
only for it all to leave me lost and so confused
I rip out all the pages
from that day and back
so I don't have to focus
on everything I lacked

Making sure they're next to me
Whether physical or memory
I am not too good to beg
for accessory

As I live and breathe
I wear it all upon my sleeve
I put my insides on display
slice and cut and cleave
My very own defense
against my emptiness
I'm broken but I'm open
and full of tenderness

I hope you believe me but I have nothing to prove
I hope you are certain in your next move
I hope that I feel so good to you
I hope that I feel so good to you

Making sure they're next to me
Whether physical or memory
I am not too good to beg
for accessory

As I live and breathe
I wear it all upon my sleeve
I put my insides on display
slice and cut and cleave
My very own defense
against my emptiness
I'm broken but I'm open
and full of tenderness

I hope you believe me but I have nothing to prove
I hope you are certain in your next move
I hope that I feel so good to you
I hope that I feel so good to you
Do I feel good too?
Do I feel good too?
Do I feel good too?
i never view it the same.
it's just quiet.
i simply closed my eyes.
and wait to feel what he makes me feel.
forbidden lust.
an act of sin.
a betrayal of a old friend,
a good climax.
he penetrates,
then sends me ascending to hell.
a
w
       i
          l  
             d
        r
               i
                     d
                            e.
without any stops.
but i can't get enough.
it
e
   a
        t
           s
at my brain.
and i'm
uns
        t
             a
                    b
                          l
                                 e.
During dinner, his hand restfully lays on my thigh, caressing me back & forth.
my body itches and warms up to his touch against my skin.
At the slightest touch of his hand toying with me,
i disintegrated.
my mind is fixated at his contact.
he plays with me underneath the family table.
as the evening progresses, they continue their conversation.
my r                                          his                                  r
             i                          &                                      i
                    n                                                 n
                               g                              g
weights down on our respectfully spoken matrimonial status.
leaving us with the wrath of guilt.

Each time, we swear
it'll be the last time.
but we're both liars of the conscious mind.
we come back to it, giving in
falling in deep
trapping ourselves more into the  further.
we are consumed by each other.

i want more then what is given....
this is the affair of a forbidden couple.....


to be continued.....
love has no absolute control. the heart wants what it wants, and the brain is a guilty partner in crime.....
the affair series
you gave her a rose for your love
and each petal was a beauty of your kind words
but each thorn was against her wrist for your cruel ways
Isn’t it sad to see how two-faced people can be?
I think you will break me
But first I have to let you
The thing is once I break, so will you
I drag down the ones I care about most
There is no use in lying, pretending
I am not alright
Let me write with blood instead of ink
Emotions are motivation for goodbye
I am made up of nothing but anxiety
Build from fear and confusion
Love me right
Just understand
Some things are broken
And should be left that way
I think I understand you better now that I have felt the same way. I am glad I never listened though, I think loving you was a gift.
Billie Aug 8
Sometimes I could lie.
Say I don’t eat anymore,
only dark liquid,
coffee grains,
anything to drown again,
my head is getting worse,
every moment I’m alone is a moment where my mind can bring up those dead memories,
dead moments,
why can’t he just be dead.
But I’m perfectly healthy.

Sometimes I could lie.
I could say I’m breaking down,
drinking until I can’t see anymore,
going for perfume once I run out of whiskey,
only coming to once I break the bottle,
glass turning the carpet into a sea of stars,
perfume running down my hands,
red trickles staining my eyes,
I see them whenever I blink,
as I try to grab at the counter to stand
and discover shards of glass that I have now dug deeper into my hands,
I can’t see to pick them out,
I can’t see to clean up the mess,
and I fall back down,
landing on those stars that were so pretty to look at,
they pierce into my elbows and my knees
and I cry out,
because I can finally feel something again.
But I don’t drink.

Sometimes I could lie.
Say I decorate myself with lacy underwear,
neon shop signs,
what will it take to make you mine?
Do I have to strip bare in front of you,
remove all other distractions,
peel your eyes back and paint my body fluorescent,
dance on the table with the spotlights illuminating every move,
why can’t you see me for me?
But I’m in love with you and you with me.
Sometimes I could lie.

Make up something that everyone expects a slam poem to be,
like I say no,
and they say but the number of men you've been with looks like your phone number.
I say no
and they say oh but you did this with my buddy,
he said to mention his name,
like I'm some kind of free offer at a hardware store,
I say no,
and they hear “how many words does it take to get you wet.”
I am told that my breath should be silent unless it is for someone else’s pleasure,
I imagine I am on a deserted island,
silent except for the thumps under the sand,
I am told that that is the earth moving but why does it sound so much like a heartbeat,
like it’s heaving its chest with every breath,
we are suffocating the earth like these men enjoy suffocating me.
But I’ve never had that happen to me.

I could lie,
make whole poems around each of these,
come across as depressed and sexually abused and ignored,
but my life isn’t like that.
So this is my poem graveyard,
for all the lines from poems that I can never write,
for all the lines from my imagination when I’m inspired by something sad,
for all the lines that would get my poetry noticed but in order to do so I’d have to lie,
this is my poem scrapheap.

Because I’m happy.
And that isn’t a lie.
i despise liars.
Nohémie Aug 2
I thought you cared
I thought you wanted me to explain
I thought you cared
But I am no longer worth the same
Your actions have spoken
Priorities have changed
Not a damn question
You laughed in my face
Ignored the whole issue
You sent meaningless phrases
And I'm left thinking
Was this all one sided?
An impression of a true life
I live like I am performing
It is not a lie about myself
I instead hide my true soul
Because underneath the layers
Deep within the deception
Lies supreme indifference
Amanda Jul 27
I keep giving you chances
Over and over you swear you're done
When I catch you lying I try to leave
Yet always return because you're the one
I'm finally beginning to realize
That the day you change will never come
Sometimes we wait too long for things we know aren't coming
Can you feel me through this poem?
Can you hear the metronome;
my heartbeat pulsing, calm but rapid?
Words on pages— simply vapid
glimpses to the depths of me
with fire-fed intensity,
and every line revealing more the
faulty fervor in my story.

Is it true or am I rambling?
Babbling synonyms while gambling
reasoning and rationale
to find the words to tell my tale,
with each new word confusing more
the moral that I’m striving for?

So slit my wrists and drag me bleeding
through the depths of hell, repeating.
Break my heart and bring me, wailing,
seeking comfort unavailing.
Show me beauty, gouge my eyes,
feign the truth in webs of lies.
Crush my legs and make me walk,
then stitch my mouth shut, make me talk.
Find my soulmate, kill them quick—
I’m the window, you’re the brick.

Am I sane or am I crazy?
Spewing darkness, sitting lazy—
cozy in the life I lead,
all snuggled with the cup of tea
I’m sipping in my favorite chair,
not blissful nor in great despair.

So take my hand and lead me, beaming,
through the twilight, stars a-gleaming.
Look me in the eye and slightly
bite your lip, then kiss me lightly.
Tell me secrets, hold me tightly,
whisp’ring nothings daily, nightly.
Take our picture, show your friends.
Say you’ll love me ‘til the end.
We’re both the ones we both admire,
You’re the fuel and I’m the fire.

You cannot feel me through this poem.
You cannot hear the metronome;
The pitter-patter of the rain
so calm upon my windowpane.
Words on pages— seldom stating
what I’m truly contemplating.
Am I content or rife with pain?
Is truth in words or in the rain?
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