#smothered
A touch should be gentle, like whispers in the night,
But your words hit like storms, with no end in sight.
Each glance, a shove, though I never saw the hand,
Unnecessary roughness—what love could withstand?
The rules we once honored, now broken like glass,
Promises shattered as kindness slipped past.
It’s not just the anger, but the weight in the air,
The silence that lingers, pretending you care.
What was once soft has now grown so cold,
A heart left bruised from the grip you hold.
Unnecessary roughness in every embrace,
I flinch from the love that’s lost its grace.
Where warmth once flourished, now jagged and frayed,
A love meant to lift, but instead, it decayed.
And though I still stand, my heart shows the scars,
Unnecessary roughness has torn us apart.
Apr 5, 2025
Apr 5, 2025 at 9:49 AM UTC
They are madly in love, but that love seems to drive them to madness. Time has passed, each moment filled with efforts to make things work, but inevitably, they end up right back where they started, fighting. They love so deeply, opening parts of each other once kept dormant. They were probably never meant to be, deep down she feels like that are not right for each other, and sometimes he begins to think it’s true. Shes mad that he can’t just leave her alone, where is the space she has always pleaded for? He’s mad that the time away from her feels like a piece of him has been torn away, how could you love someone and still yearn for the distance? Her love burns like a fire, needing air to fuel its brightness, yet yearning for space to avoid being suffocated. His love flows like a river, a constant current that needs something to pull against, requiring a connection to stay alive. Each passing moment only draws them closer, their hearts in sync, an invisible thread weaving them together. But this symphony of emotions becomes harder to bear, as if his love is an unstoppable force, and hers an immovable object, each pulling in different directions. Perhaps she’s not ready for this kind of relationship, or maybe he was never meant for one. Yet, the harder she pulls away, the more desperately he holds on. The waves may crash, and the buildings may fall, but beneath the rubble, they stand, planning to rebuild. Their love drives them to the edge, unsure of what comes next. She craves time to breathe, space to settle, while he longs for reassurance, wanting to feel as though he’s not being cast aside.
Feb 16, 2025
Feb 16, 2025 at 10:38 PM UTC
The blisters formed and bubbled, Your skin began to burn,
Desperately trying to extinguish all light,
While feigning such concern.
Smothering out the flame, cutting off the air,
the charring smell is making me sick.
No, It's pretending that you care.
Your hands once so soft, have now grown callus,
harden from the "home" you built around me,
Each brick tainted with malice.
Gasping tightly around my ever failing, feeble form,
Looking around frantically,
only to be met with your cloudy eyes filled with scorn.
I lay there in the ashes, the remnants of me,
Darkened sky of smoke surrounding my vision,
All thats left is seared debris
**And that is where you left me.
But that's where I refuse to stay.**
~
Apr 23, 2024
Apr 23, 2024 at 11:48 AM UTC
I can't fit
in your
pocket,
that kind
of love
is too
much.
Such a
dreamy
coffin,
when all
I wanted
was
your
touch.
Jul 16, 2020
Jul 16, 2020 at 12:42 PM UTC
I have watched grief hollow you out.
Your body is no longer illuminated by an open heart.
Since the spiders crept in
the warm, gentle glow has been
smothered
by cobwebs.
May 24, 2020
May 24, 2020 at 2:48 AM UTC
Trust is a flickering flame
Fragile
Illuminating
Slow-to-grow
Perfect to warm coldest of hearts
Freeze if wind snuffs out it's glow
Do not smoke if your fire is shaky
Can't inhale after it's smothered
Once out must start all over again
New flame
When that dies
Another
Dec 11, 2019
Dec 11, 2019 at 5:50 AM UTC
I politely fold my
**** you’
into tiny pieces
sharp sentences sliced
for your comfort
until it is only a soft
‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…’
I am small enough to slide
into your pocket or your pants
but never out
of your grasp
Mar 3, 2019
Mar 3, 2019 at 2:50 AM UTC
I could hear her words,
faintly..
like an echo through water.
But I want drowning.
When I was in the womb
I swam in darkness..
Now all I see is
white heavy clouds,
depriving me of breath...
The last thing I saw was my mother
crying,
as my father
ran with me, then I saw blue..
And knew he'd never let me drown
in her arms..
Feb 27, 2019
Feb 27, 2019 at 5:28 PM UTC
and so, he said to me, “Are you sure this is what you want? Are you sure you want me? Because once I fall in love, there is no turning back. I love hard, and I will be obsessed with you I will smother you”.
please do not smother me;
smothering implies force.
It implies suppression,
maybe a hint of aggression,
with a dab of oppression
and a handful of asphyxiation.
In which one kills another,
by with the stifling of breath and emotion.
It is the death of something.
Instead engulf me in your love;
let me be immersed in it.
cradle me.
coddle me.
shelter me.
let me breathe,
so that I can appreciate it
and feel it all around me;
that makes it so much better.
ever so soft.
ever so loving.
ever so gentle.
I understand why you want to smother,
I do.
Why you want to cover parts of me
that you feel are light-filled.
Watering me with muddled emotions and actions
that you feel are quite harmless, but understand;
like flowers overwatered,
and placed in the shade
death will become me.
I too,
struggle with the feeling to
repress and restrain
I do
, but you’re somebody too
you’re important.
Your love is a torrent;
the best thing you can give along with,
your time.
It’s valuable,
so you shouldn’t give if it is unwanted
even to me;
especially to me
or at least don’t make it a habit with anyone
you see
because you are too precious
and too valuable
you say I am special,
but you too, are important
, but thank you
I do,
appreciate the gesture and the thought;
I do.
I want your love but not like that.
I really do,
just not that way.
Just not by suffocation.
I want to be engulfed in it…
there’s a difference,
I do not want to die… I do not want to suffocate.
Oct 9, 2018
Oct 9, 2018 at 1:34 AM UTC
Do you hear me
Can you see me
I’m not happy
I’m not free
This love you give is grand
But what comes with is far too harsh
I feel crushed beneath my own body weight
Laying squished while reaching out
You pet my hair and say you love me
All this is worth it apparently
But how am I to love back if I am dead
Jul 13, 2018
Jul 13, 2018 at 9:33 AM UTC
And we trod paths
crushing detritus
of heart prints
that yet remain//
Jun 27, 2018
Jun 27, 2018 at 3:33 AM UTC
Some things burn
like fire.
Some things sting
like bees.
But sometimes,
They smother like pillows.
Until you can no
longer breathe.
May 3, 2018
May 3, 2018 at 2:36 PM UTC
She stepped from their presence
Startlingly, too soon,
And relished the silent moments amid the agony.
For a while it was just her and the new-found joy(and pain),
But too soon was she needed back.
When periodically she would return,
Their well-meaning tendrils of neediness smothered her,
And, well-greased and grinning, she would slip away again.
Self-preservation had always been her shining virtue—or glaring flaw.
When at last the struggling wardens insisted her presence,
She stumbled back to her rightful place,
Dreading all that would come.
But it never did.
She returned to a thriving world,
Having deluded herself of their helplessness without her.
She realized how small she really was and, cradling one larger than her,
Dipped her head in silent acceptance of what she discovered was truth,
And the new woman she had become replaced the replacement of someone past.
She pushed on, borne ever forward by sheer will,
Never nearing who she was before and never far from falling into herself again.
Feb 29, 2016
Feb 29, 2016 at 10:53 PM UTC
**s i n k i n g
s l o w l y
I ' m
d r o w n i n g
s u f f o c a t i n g
i n s i d e
o f
y o u r
w o r d s
t h a t
a l l
c o m e
o u t
a s
s l u r s .**
Nov 6, 2015
Nov 6, 2015 at 3:28 AM UTC
I wept at the moment
You were faded, and
I thought feathers can ****
As they were weighted upon
Your breath, and then, stillness...
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 2:09 PM UTC
The sensual curved line on the bed
perfect.
The eyes: burning, red, leaking for reason unknown.
Private room for me and you.
Darkness quenching the need to hide the
lustrous actions ensued.
Accept your fate, useless strumpet, unrivaled *****
Your garden grows quickly out of control.
Weeds in your rose bush, fence weighed down by
inherent overgrowth
of emotion:
fervor, passion.
A kiss.
The last sweetness of
your lips
that will ever be given
or gotten.
Death.
A sweet relief for the world
from you,
Desdemona.
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 1:05 PM UTC