Everyday I tell her
Not to remember your dimples.
Everyday I tell her
Not to find those crinkles,
Your eyes created
While the smile wrapped itself,
Intimately around your lips
And the first nail of my coffin was hit!

Your heart is stuck in someone else,
And mine I have left in your closet.
After all the time that has passed
I am still staring,
At the empty mug to hold just a drop,
A drop to satisfy this craving
Or maybe just to forget this thirst.
Thirst,quenched not even by the elixir,
Elixir that saved the life
But could not fill the emptiness in it
Could not give it a meaning to be lived.

All I need is  a bit of you,
But sigh! I can have that never.
Yet I love you
Just the way you love her
Someone said it right-
One sided love holds an alien kind of peace,
Peace in the pleasure offered by pain,
Pain that I, so passionately chase.

I stare blankly at the
bathroom wall
where the tiled portion
meets the faded blue paint
as it soaks in...
I liked it

The years of unrequited love,
the chase for affection,
the tortured artist
twisted up in twisted tortured
feelings

I spent year writing
dark poems,
letting the liquid manifest as a physical representation
of the tears shed
and bleeding heart.
Did I like it?

My existence was
wandering streets alone,
getting lost in melancholy songs,
wondering if love equated pain.

Then I found
what I told my notebook
I'd been searching for all along.
Someone loves me,
someone gives me love,
and I spent so much time searching for it,
enjoying the hunt and
getting gratification out
of my own self-deprecation
that I'm lost even though I'm found.

Do I like it?
Did I like that?
Do I like this?

I can't seem to decipher
affection and how it's supposed to
make me feel
versus how it does.
Did I like looking for it more than having it?

Am I so ****** up that
I love not receiving love more than receiving it?

I don't want to run; I want to stay;
I always used to run
to
     and away.

i thought
***
was supposed to be
beautifully passionate
the exploration
of two souls
but what is
***
when it is selfishly
lustful
when all you see
is a hot
body
a temporary
object
and nothing more
nothing below the surface

When done with the grammar
I gotta write about us
When you have done with
Your weirdness and relations
You can stay with me
The presence is the broken
My skull
Hurts

I'm done with my skull
Write poems
And Write songs
I used to think about you I guess
I sent out later

Breaking up with you
Seamlessly easier
Left me on the door
For the later than Tomorrow

Live till you love Today
Tomorrow is when you die

Screwpine’s thorns hurt,
Flowers’ musky scent entice;
Bloodletting pleasure!

I feel that humanity has changed a lot.
That the pleasure of sugar is no longer sweet.
I feel that the freedom to imagine the imaginable has been lost.
I feel that the blood in our veins is no longer hot.
What if I scream?
Will I help to save the world ?
Can we conquer anything with pain?
Can we paint our lies with grey ?
The freedom that the human being has to make choices is no longer a priority.
What is the meaning of life?
Why are we born if we die?
Why do we kiss if we suffer?
had to scream, so no one could hear me .
I had to jump so nobody could save me.
Everyday single day...
Someone falls apart, someone is born, somebody needs reach.
I woke up in the morning, combed my hair, looked at me in the mirror without have any desire.
I sat under the tree to smell the summer.
As the children asked me about love and he’s definition
What about love?
Love is now the song we skipped on the playlist.
Love is the main sentiment of every dreamer.
Neither the greatest thinkers in history nor logic can find concrete definitions for feelings.
No one lives without love, so there is hatred.
In each cup we drink the poison of ingratitude.
The flowers are no longer immense.
These all words, figures of style and pleonasm ...
It was just to define how our life can be a great illusion

[Hurts So Good by Astrid S is playing in the background]

"Do you feel important now?"
you asked me in a gentle whisper
as you were caressing/kissing me
I said "Hell yeah I feel important."
"Good" you said
"Do you?" I asked
"This is not about me. It's about you." you said
You smiled as you touched my face
as you pressed your ****, seductive body into mine
A blossoming trail of infinite kisses followed
tears in your eyes
lust on your lips
seduction in your voice
my hands on your hips
your hands on my body
tight was your grip
tight were your lips
the deeper you pressed them
into my neck
my nails digging into your skin
I cry at the very craving of you
what have you done to me?
hurts so good
****....