Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
I was a nice boy
at the cinema, all the blonde girls
sat next to me
running their fingers through my hair
looking me in the eyes
showing me different ways
to drown my happiness

I did not know you back then
not even a window predicted
that you would start to overwhelm me
with such bitter affection

just a dog
which I still call in my mind
hoping he would come and wag its tail at my feet
that dog was the only one trying to heal me
licking my palm
the fool thinking, just like me,
that the lifeline was a wound
You always ask me
what I'm thinking of
and I must admit
if you knew my
true thoughts
you will never see
me the same again.

Constantly I am
thinking about
how I could
possibly feel
beautiful at night
when I eat anything
during the day.

I can't tell you this
because you might
worry for me.
You would say
I am beautiful always.

While this helps
it feels as though
you are putting
a band-aid on
a cavernous wound.
One that was small
many years ago,
but recently was infected,
left untreated and
ignored because of
how ugly it is to me.
I am embarrassed
that I love you more
then I love myself.

So I won't reveal
what I'm truly thinking
to you ever.
Instead I smile,
blush even,
and say I cannot
stop thinking of you.
My soul is shaken;
Sorrow hath returned
To Console me again.

Weary of endless misfortune,
I saw fit to revert unto my roots;
To crack open what virulent voices
Prayed would remain sealed.

But i yielded not
Enlisted, and
Remolded my bones;
Ready for duty.

But a double notification shook my
Nerves with concern made
By devastating news.

Given unto me was a letter of denial,
Stamped by the hands of our shield
At the barracks housing diverse knights,
For my health was deemed unfit
Unto their eyes,
As my veins run deep with an inherited blemish
Selfishfully passed on by
My begetters.

Ah me,
I know not what to do,
For invested i remain in this voyage.

What choice do i have
But to appeal?
Ayodeji Oje Aug 19
Like a wounded thunder
calvary roars how low
the son of man had stooped
that men would live far
above the world, sin and death
Spriha Kant Aug 13
They , the grass carps
eat away the algae of my brooding from the pond of my feelings.
Like painters , they paint the blank canvases of my life with unforgettable sweet and beautiful moments by their delicate and innocuous jacose paint brushes.

Tickling me with loads of laughter by their innocuous hilarious acts is their shadow.

Folding the tender age of the two little beauties into my palms for ever is my fantasy and living with their childhood memories shall be my ice cubes on my burning wounds.
You can also follow me on
The princess of the sea, Beirut will rise above her sorrows and wounds. For over five thousand years, she has grown to be tough and resilient.  With the crack of a new dawn, Beirut will be enchanted, and she will be wearing her garment of beauty with a welcoming smile.

Hussein Dekmak
My heart's wounded,
Hold me tight
I can't let any more of
The blood to ooze
Coz, every drop of it holds
The memories of you!
I can't let it drain out of me
You are my lifeline dear,
Without me I'm a living carcass!
Myrrdin Aug 7
I have spent a lifetime
Healing the people that hurt me
In hopes that without their pain,
They will not need to inflict it,
My suffering should not be medicine,
My sadness should not be a cure,
Do not tell me I do too much,
I've scarred what you left bleeding.
Kashish Aug 3
I want to learn how to live again
Not for you, but for myself
I want to erase those memories,
I’ve kept buried in my heart for so long
I want to heal,
Every single aching wound
That you caused, in the name of love
I want to set my soul free,
Burning it all down.
Next page