It takes a lifetime to know someone.
Knowing someone is like plucking the petals of a rose,
Only to realize there is more to the picture.
Everyday I learn more and more about you;
You are one of those novels I will keep reading on my own till the last word.
Even though my friend gave me a spoiler,
I don't care, I will wait for the words to spell out of your mouth, off the pages I mean.
What if you are not the rose afterall?
what if you are like an onion,
whom I peel everytime trying to know you,
Only to realize my eyes are sobbing even more.
Squeeze gently like lemons and fruits
Sweet nectar juices produced
**** tongue close to core
Butterscotch like tapped sycamore
Perspiration seeps from peel
Porous citrus aromates near
Grown in sun among the wildflowers
Oh how I love her, even when she sours
Words are knives in my heart;
I am dull to the world
When I keel and I peel;
My aftermath is sealed
Four months today. Since he became mine.
4 months of peeling each others layers.
Layers of love, layers of conflicts.
Some almost fell off, some were a challenge to even budge.
We fell apart, only to collide once again.
The hard collision brought the toughest layers with it.
And here we are.
4 months later.
Honest, bare and exposed.
Closer than ever before.
No matter how hard our fears tried to stop us,
we can't fight destiny.
I am a cynic and
a romantic at heart.
My skin hardened by experience
My heart fearful of pain and trust.
Many have tried to peel away
my doubts and fears and
try to add colour to my
My truth is my reality.
And with that, no one can
Don't look at me with
eyes fascinated, eyes with
pity, eyes of doubt.
My heart's afraid
and my mind's so
You taste sweetness
from my sourness
think you can
This is an old poem I found in a very very old journal.
Wrote it back 2014-5, wow.
Looking at it now, I think I've gotten a little better,
but yet, this still hits so close to home.
Training the mind to be different is a lot harder than people would think.
Have you ever peeled an orange?
Felt the satisfaction as the smooth husk glides
Right off, falls away in a rush
Opening to the sweet flesh inside
Taking pleasure in the simple things
Those smooth and flawless actions
So why should flaying men be different?
Why the cruel infractions?
You say you scream from pain
But I hear the rejoicing
Hidden in your shrieks
As I flay the skin right off your face
Revealing the ****** smile
Concealed beneath your cheeks
Ah, the rush, the thrill
Peeling you like a fallen fruit
Elation takes me to new heights
As I joyfully flay your skin suit
My concentration becomes delight
As I open you up to new views
The rapturous beauty
Your muscles, tendons, bones, and sinews
I asked for unusual poem prompts.
I received this:
"The sweet feeling of flaying skin off muscle."
Blood chilling. But here's my best shot.
Men are so funny. Well not just men but people. We as people can be filled with greed. We want everything that shines even things that don’t. If it is accessible all takers on deck. It becomes as a game it seems. That looks good let me try it out. I might not be able to afford it yet I want it anyway. Are you bills paid while you are making all of those outstanding purchases? Do you really need or just want that new pair of shoes? Do you have to have take-out every single day? Do you know how to use the stove to prepare food for yourself?
All of these things are of greed and laziness. Showing a lack of appreciation for what you already have. While not taking care of what is already owned. Worst of all forgetting that times get hard and you should preserve what you have. The entire time that you had her, no she wasn’t always happy but she loved you and had your back.
She self-medicated to stay afloat. To deal with the crap that you put out. While you flirted and danced with others when she was out of town. You called and texted and thought that she would not find out.
You forgot her worth, yes there were times that she messed up. When you forgive it should have been forgotten.
My brother you threw it in her face every chance you got.
That was because she called you on your mess. You felt that she was close to blowing up your spot. She should have been the only spot that you blew up.
Now she is leaving you and you are remembering what you had. She probably has a new man that treats her better. Bro you can’t get mad. You should have loved her when you had the chance. Now she is gone and you are all alone. Now you are sad wishing that you would have loved her when you had her.
I hope that things get better got you all. Treat people how you want to be treated. ...love never fails!
i am stuck in a
a breath of fresh air
or just air
that seems fresh
quilled with ice cold
there is only beauty
between the cracks
i cant call myself
if i dont tell you
that her lips
they could heal me
like a bandaid
and hurt just as much
to peel off.
it doesnt feel like
but im ready
to go home
if home feels
like it used to.
I will be a window
and the secrets you tell with your lips.
The sighs you blanket with the softest care
and the breaths you unknowingly count.
I will be the reminder of every second spent
and every moment felt.
A contradiction of your judgement
and a compliment of your beliefs.
I will be the ink of each unwritten imitation
of every mediocre song.
The scent of orange peel that trails on the
extravagant curves of your fingernails.