#intimacyissues
Oh, the fragile taste of love—
Sick of love, minus the love sickness,
Sea-sick, bracing through someone
Else’s emotional waves, especially
Daily texts that land like silence
In a forest of dead branches
Let’s leave the small talk—
"Oh, how was your day"
I really won’t feel your words,
but I’ll answer them anyway
_To keep in touch_
Feel insecure with every hug,
Cut my tongue, bruise my lips —
I don’t taste much love anymore,
Excuse my __Glass Teeth.__
Dec 13, 2025
Dec 13, 2025 at 1:52 AM UTC
_Fee-fi-fo-fum_— as we weighed love by
an empty ounce, and paid it all back by this
sore pound. They yell: “come now or begone,”
and if you can’t produce the sum for what’s
been done; flee to fine some… or find none.
An anguish in fornication, and a touch that speaks,
but means nothing at all. No real stimulation—
just hunger in the guise of heat, and shame where
love was meant to meet. As some feather-dust their
guilt, pretending to have clean intentions. But we’ve
only used each other to air out our frustrations.
These old recycled themes; ******* from peers,
spilling from worn-out jeans, and spreading
dreams like genes, without real meaning in between
the fabric of time.
But tell me, do you still not see the giant problem?
Or are you too big for yourself, to fully measure up
to your own faults?
Aug 1, 2025
Aug 1, 2025 at 4:48 AM UTC