"catered" poems
There were wounds covering the small of my back
Where you stabbed me time and time again
I handed you trust
Watched you dice it like onions
The fumes exhausting my tear ducts
Doing everything I can from letting them flow
The knife is on the ground
Rusted and tired
Those wounds have scared over
I know now what I didn't know then
That trust is not to be catered
It is to be earned
You've exhausted your rations
It'll be difficult to watch you hunger for the taste of my trust,
but I am stronger now than I was yesterday
That, I can thank you for
Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 10:31 PM UTC
I say again
That from my perspective
When I Die
The whole World will cease to Exist
Including You.
And it will be the same for you
When you go too.
So we are Lucky now
Having the Internet
To speed our Education,
Bringing knowledge and experience to us
As our mobility declines.
It’s as though Someone has catered for our needs,
Ensuring we Learn as much as we can
Before we go.
Lucky too we are to have our radio and TV.
And some of us are lucky enough
To live in relative Safety.
Some day, if we are lucky, we might even learn
What all this Learning’s for.
Someone may even let us know.
Paul Butters
Nov 6, 2016
Nov 6, 2016 at 5:28 AM UTC
It’s astonishing how you knock me off my feet
Enrapture spoken, sentiments we savor as we greet
A relishing secret catered for me, my needs, as we mental feast
It’s getting harder and harder to breathe
Echoes turning, twisting, as they blissfully weave
I wish I could take a journey through your mind
Dine on the emotions you refuse to hide
Cautionary pause, where are you, do you no longer reside
Tempting fate of awakening emotions dancing inside my head
Fools rush in where Angels fear to tread
Dreams of roses, chocolates, wine, a silk covered bed
Beautiful images of a love to be shared
Where feelings could suddenly vanish into thin air
No safety net, no sure bet, hotter than July, to have let
Nurses cannot heal thyself
I need a quick cure from sipping the tale of Sleeping Beauty’s lover’s cup
SOS smoke signals has been sent up
Rescue me Destiny, Fate knows I cannot swim
Horde of feelings have quickly flooded in
Melody of the heart sounds sweeter than the violin
No shore, no dry land
State of mind standing upon quicksand
Tarzan swing me from your vine, refuge needed in this moment in time
I need an escape from this deep ocean of carnal designs
Mind management, intoxicating as sweet wine, softly trickling from off a grape vine
You’ll be the one who brings the pain
Bring the umbrella in the pouring rain
You’ll be the one who makes me cry
Bring me the tissue to dry my eyes
You’ll be the one my heart can’t deny
Sending my body beyond pleasure while entwined in the sky
Whispers in time are arresting, strong
Tarzan embrace me, cocoon me with an escape song
As I tightly hold onto your body as we swing in ecstasy all night long
Sep 7, 2018
Sep 7, 2018 at 9:58 AM UTC
Festive morn, I crossed with thee
Embellished silk shines with whirling elegance—
Of translucent textures and fine fragrance
The royal formation— that anticipates a chance—
A romantic browse of catered acquaintance.
As I swipe to slant,— Thy arms braced my shoulders— and uplift me—
In awe of my still,
Slipped palms of thy distant longed—
In the halls of hide and seek—
Despite the fragments,— Thou aimed to break the lines,—
Chasing this harmony,
Unravelling the elflock sway;— to clutch the Orchid; Until she stays..
Jul 2, 2020
Jul 2, 2020 at 2:56 AM UTC
Hence, also in another place, I am naked;
naked; In Latvia, sometimes
from the other way around the adjective; narrow
understanding of the bald;
On the rising piece of alt girl's feet
Do not listen to her empty bare feet, of nature's own *****
again; twelve same & the walls of the square
is the work that they were naked; Glory to you w/ sackcloth,
to buy a few have sprouted sacks; End of all things is taken
the form of; The naked lens of Lebanon
& one simple; simple, the pictures
by the end, simple surface is rough; & more
matter of his dreams; He saw poor; till
naked & welcome, his mind open that
It is clear that there is a plan & having
as deniers of their own to his person
naked, his clothes, stripped them of their private citizens,
out of labor in vain: he was naked;
naked; that which was evil flavorless,
unarmed, have left us; All naked & w/out
any armor protection who exposes himself
to be above; You can not be secured in some,
I was already catered for; depopulated in the man,
of course, that he set out he was uncovered
within the field, naked, in a few words;
Translations
Sep 14, 2018
Sep 14, 2018 at 8:55 PM UTC
Fresh wounds
Begin to fester
Tearing inward
Scars deepen
Transported from flesh
To the soul of a victim,
Specific pain
Catered to the controller
An intimate bond of blood to emotion
Crimson Consumption
Pristine Flagellation
Perfect Punishment
With each step
My youth deteriorates
Enticing me deeper into the void
To which I am held captive
l.v.s and z.w.b
Jan 26, 2017
Jan 26, 2017 at 2:56 AM UTC
Changed is always for the better.
Altho' the past holds some good.
But when you hear athletes cry about being called soft.
And it's calling out his manhood.
You begins to wonder, if he knows what a man is?
Because words shouldn't control your action.
But they do.
In a world, where people have been called many things?
The word soft shouldn't make a real man enraged.
My , how time has changed?
If you secure.
Then you're sure of your manhood.
You don't need clarification.
Or anyone to support your view.
You alone should know you.
But this generation is a learned group.
That hadn't faced the toughest of others generation.
They been catered.
They been spoiled.
And they been fools.
To let a simple comment create havoc.
My, how times has changed?
With this new technology.
And new constant creation.
We see things that amazes past generation.
Where respect was a guided skill?
We wonder about these we see today.
That feels respect should just be given to them.
Then many have never worked hard to earn.
My, how times has changed.
It's true.
The more things changes.
The more.
It stays the same.
Still, I like those good old days.
Well, I'm not so sure.
Oct 25, 2012
Oct 25, 2012 at 8:51 AM UTC
To a cat in a cul-de-sac,
she's a stone rose,
malaise with no remorse and a penchant for suicidal grammar.
Backsassing and backroom massaging
her way from Tanner, Illinois to Irving, Texas --
her interstate veins and her data plan brain
catered to the orifices of the weary,
and soothed the spidertongued and sleepy.
In the last postcard, she signed Evangeline,
the number of name changes: 23
in the Sunflower State alone.
A dive bar in Ulysses, Kansas
beamed as a brilliant model of
"Starved wives and stray dogs," Evangeline explained.
*"I found the dark side of beet farmers
and the redemption in callused hands."*
A letter came from Pryor, Oklahoma:
"Recognize the perfume?"
The only line.
Printer paper close, inhale --
my mind drifts to my former
high cheekbone'd bride, Skye.
Evangeline bedded her spindly body.
Spite, spite, spite.
Confused, I answered her call on the
first morning of December.
Tent living with a retired acrobat on
the growing shoreline of Lake Texoma,
she downed a mixed bag of his sleeping meds,
and sleeping by his side, she fantasized about me.
*"I think you drank too much in my dreams.
I woke up dissatisfied."*
Once she arrived in Irving, I mailed her
my edit of her suicide note.
A call to say it looked good,
and she'd let me know if she ever had
to use it.
I never heard from her again.
Jul 8, 2012
Jul 8, 2012 at 12:32 AM UTC
I've tried to record
The way your name falls out of my mouth
When I drop glass onto the floor
Like my mothers list of forbidden words
In spreadsheets
Counting with fingers and letters
Every time I pass a red pushpin in a map
Of where you told me
"You're so young and immature"
Like a compliment traced with
Sobriety and melatonin
I've picked up pencils
That end up in pieces
After scrawling your dialogues
Onto "it's your own fault" paper
I've scrubbed myself raw
With people who wont
Look me in the eyes anymore
With your goodbye words
With the flashbacks of
Your hands manifesting
The uncharted areas
Of my brittle hips
How my ****** syllables were
Dinner party jokes
There's nothing that can hurt
A god of power
And business suits
Someone who's never told no
Holds a child
In a way that erases the thought of comfort
And now
I lack the maturity to refuse requests
And you tell me
I'd make a good corpse
At a funeral catered towards
Twenty-nine year old men
Who never learned the difference
Between property and personality
And my promises
Tighten around my throat
Gratefully
Like your hands
Fostering the
Aurora Borealis of love
In a way that
Makes me choke on
The things you've shown me
The things you've ruined for me
The words I will never get back
And I sit
With you surrounding me
In and out of every crevice of my body
You've claimed for yourself
Helpless
And defeated
Like a child
Just how you like me
Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 6:12 PM UTC
She'll be digging her toes in the California sands
Only Being catered to by the loveliest of hands.
Her heavenly vocals will take her to the top of the charts
Mangling and delighting a billion hearts
She'll be the next Beyonce or Lana Del Ray
But probably something better, many would say.
She'll get everything she wants, all and more
I just hope she remembers me when I see her on tour
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 11:30 AM UTC
Bird watching, day dreams,
Catered meals, naps, massages,
Another day for cat.
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 11:35 PM UTC
King Kenny,
Like God on Earth upon mat...
Rising sun in his eyes for rainless morning,
And superkick party, catered and cleaned.
Technician of great finesse,
Not living off technicality,
We pay thanks to our savior
For handing out the wrath.
Apr 9, 2016
Apr 9, 2016 at 11:37 PM UTC
Tamaker
I won her on a whiskey bet,
At a place called Rusty's Shack,
In a poker game in Fargo
With three deuces and a Jack.
I took her from a mountain man
Who had bought her in a trade,
For a rifle and a jug of Rye,
Off an Indian renegade.
I had no yen to keep her;
I meant to set her free.
I never thought she'd want to stay,
Or that she'd follow me.
I told her she was free to go,
No longer be a slave.
But the squaw refused to leave me,
Called me her Paleface Brave.
And when I rode out of Fargo,
Headed for Cheyenne,
She followed every trail I took,
No matter the terrain.
I couldn't seem to lose her
No matter how I tried.
By the time I got to Deadwood
She was riding by my side.
We rode hard through a valley,
Forged across Powder Creek,
When I fell from my saddle
Three miles from Miner's Peak.
My saddle pony stumbled
And landed on my knee.
He broke his leg and I broke mine
Unable to get free.
If I hadn't had that Indian squaw,
A maiden called Tamaker,
I be wearing a peg-leg now,
Or living with my maker.
She patched me up and catered me
With herbs and Indian lore,
Until my health and strength returned
And I was whole once more.
And when we finally reached Cheyenne,
Still riding side by side,
We found a cowboy preacher
And I made her my bride.
The squaw I met at Rusty's shack,
Won on a whiskey bet,
Became the lady of my dreams
And we're together yet.
Jul 29, 2011
Jul 29, 2011 at 7:28 AM UTC
The monetary balance has gone crazy
In this world we call our home,
The fiscal market's shot to hell
Stock collapsing like a stone.
The hedge deals are un sellable
Most banks refuse to loan
Good real estate is valueless
The roof's a "Plummet Zone".
Oh yes the suits are stepping out for air
And falling like a stone,
Termination of their worries
Beats explanations on the phone.
There's always a dependable
To help clean up the place,
And oblivion's a better option
Than awkward questions and disgrace.
Capitulating companies,
Whole nations in default
The piggy banks are bulging
With the greenbacks from the vault.
The banks refuse to part with cash
Lines of depositors do queue
And the finance houses shut their doors
Explaining, briefly, "Well...Fuck you!"
Heads of Government meet and talk
The photo ops are really grand,
Banner headlines in the daily's
Report resolutions that seem bland.
The fanfare and the hoopla
Announce the remedy is payoffs....
And global confidence is sprinting
For the trees...In panicked chaos!
But the C.E.O's are catered for
Their future is secure,
There's several million tucked away
In the Cayman Island tour.
Unfortunate about the desolation left behind
But these things are bound to happen
When the blind do lead the blind.
There will be some opportunities,
Some bargains coming up
And the prudent keep the check book close
For when the number's up...
Of all those struggling little people
Who bravely slave away
And collapse before they realize
Their firm's capacity to pay.
So What's around the corner?
Do we hide our heads in sand?
Do we kiss our **** goodbye
And join the suits in splatter land?
Or do we bravely hoist our trousers
Hitch our belts another notch,
And convince ourselves that someone
Higher up has got the watch
And the ability to work out
What the hell is going on..
And deliver us from evil
Before the world is ****** gone?
Marshalg
Mangere Bridge.
8th October 2008
Oct 23, 2009
Oct 23, 2009 at 2:54 PM UTC
A married couple built a home.
They filled it with sustenance, carried trouble from the mist
Shrugged their tired shoulders and said, "the heck with it."
A few months later, they worked diligently
to make ends meet and settled with three.
The first was science;
his eyes black to the depths of feelings
catered by human beings.
He had no ambitions;
Life carried for him, no mission
He settled with a distant universe
Lost to the world, cradled by the stars.
The second was art;
her eyes open to life's imagery,
Frivolous to reality,
Living in fantasy,
Outwardly misplaced in a world confined,
By laws and walls that vex her open mind.
She sees the universe in people;
The color they shine from souls, divine
While the world just comes and goes.
The third was physics;
Always in motion, unable to rest,
Fixed in her thinking, quick to protest
the world's catastrophes offsetting her inertia,
Grounded by gravity bound by rule,
Drugged by ambition avowed to a criteria,
Where everything needs fixing and she is the tool.
In the company of such diversity,
Option created the university.
Send your offspring there.
Tell them to learn what is worth knowing:
That change is infinite and life keeps going,
and love has no limits, it keeps on growing,
as long as there is air to breath and feelings worth showing.
In the end it comes down to chemistry,
But the result always varies;
Creating a creature of beauty
From acceptance and unity
That carries on the legacy,
Of subjective company.
Sometimes, the unexpected can be so lovely.
Oct 9, 2010
Oct 9, 2010 at 11:46 PM UTC
What Geromino said when he ran
into General Custard.
"Hey, who ordered the flan?"
It was a catered affair.
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 9:18 PM UTC
They say "I'm not sure,"
and they know it's veritable.
Cluttered desk--hats and
textbooks and papers and
earbuds all askew, heart
pumping too quick
Sitting on a black plastic chair,
legs curled up underneath, eyes
flickering to The Latehomecomer,
stomach unsettled
"I'm not sure." of what?
head down, eyes searching,
mind spinning, lungs catered
like coffee at noon
"Everything."
Supplied lies, shaking hands
pouring chamomile tea into a
white cup, hoping for--
that too.
"Everything?" on their mind
is falsified and unknown,
twisted skin ruddy,
shoes all in a row,
nails bitten like marionette
"Anything." of confirmation
belongs to the stables
which blossom with the
stench of sweetness and
wild, roving insecurity
"I'm not sure," they
murmur, "what you mean."
Precipices are lonely business
and so are "People like me,"
Forks are steel but the
mind is molten
and rusted in decay
"dream of quiet," they laud
slick on thin ice of
the essay due tomorrow in
history on the death
of too many
Sunglasses are similar
to winter waters and
lightning spirals in;
they are in debt to
themselves, in depth of
"broken moments." that
clash and too much
to think
slivers down in silver
carcasses of thoughts
"Okay, I can't help you."
"I know," filters out
behind lips of burning iron
"I never expected you too."
floats down the crowded
unfinished
street.
They're not sure of
everything and
I'm not sure of
me.
I know it's true.
Nov 13, 2018
Nov 13, 2018 at 9:38 PM UTC
I dont think she remembers why she came.
Why she is a different person, when it rains.
When everything began, before she knew her name.
Before this creature, she became.
With the thickening Fogg and Desolate Rain; she grip's her cloak and follow's her pain.
Her lifeless eyes lead her astray, as her feet trip over one another before two others came.
She made her way into a clearing and silence she regains.
The dark purple skies reveal a shape of blame and into her form she became.
Her sense's heightened like a catalyst, her intentions were vague. Inside her heart was filled with rage.
She made her way into town, devouring all that stood in her way.
Her blood shot eyes could see for miles. Her smell was refrain.
But unto others she would look the same until her mistakes began to leave a trail from which she became.
They gathered in many, they carried they're pitch forks and Stakes but nothing would **** her and she would eventually get away.
Leaving the town in fear, she made away. She layed low for year's until one mysterious day.
A weary traveler stumbled across her home fatigued. Riddled with torment, the man lay waste.
Her heart poured for the man and so she decided to let him stay.
She catered to his wounds and she fed him each day.
He then returned to health and asked for her Name.
She barried her head, she did not say.
The man so thankful for her help; he decided to stay and pay back the woman who had no name.
He did not remember from which he came, this weary Traveler also had no name.
He promised that he would do anything for her to let him stay.
She gathered his stuff and pushed him away.
She shut him out when it started to rain.
The man confused inside but determined for change.
He decided he would go into town and return with necessary things.
As he returned there was a beast at her door. In a panic he grabbed a rock but The beast instincts much quicker than his own. The strength of ten men charged him down to the ground.
This beast would not take his life all at once.
The man remembered in that very moment from in which he Came.
But he still loved her, So he pursued her any way.
The beast then Struck him down. This time oblivious in rage.
She tore him limb from limb but Realizing was half of her Pain.
The other part of her enjoyed it and so she continued to slay.
I dont think she remembers from which she became. Her lifeless eyes that lead her astray.
Her feet fall over one another before two others came.
-RSC
Sep 17, 2017
Sep 17, 2017 at 3:12 PM UTC
Well, you'll pobablly be in another womans arms in the years to come
but that doesnt faze this thing
welling
that runs through the tunnels and the funnels of this heart
my love
because it gives me conviction when you are weak
it gives you the loving that you seek
and yours
like chemistry
it gives me the wish fullfillment, the dream I'd always wanted to meet
you are my sorrows dry
the tear drops from tears
separated from thier highest fate
transmuted from young coal to old gold
you bring something with you
with that pride welled up in your heart
ike a wise kind serpant
that only seeks to help
only seeks to pleasre it self
to helping me
and those who are comming
you have the ancients in those eyes
considerable, and powerful
they recognize the same power inside
me
I didnt need your acknowledgment for it to be here
but without it
I wouldnt be here
it would die whith te last morsels of my heart
to a kindly but devious part
Ive been called from the old story books, then
when the gods were our best of friends
but now I am here
in a world that is no longered catered to
because of fear
the children are blind and weak
and recognition, friendship wa all that I really ever seeked
with shoulder bones of gold
you reached into me
and saw something old
saw something untouched by the hardships that has the power to turn something beautiful
decreppid and old
not that Ib havet
havent felt the shiver of the cold
by my own small fraction of foolishness
because I listened to what this life had shown
but all the while I thought of you
even while others ran me through
this same kindness isnt wasted on you
it gives me great pleasure to do
all of this for you
because you dont look down on me
yu see yoursef in my glee
and I see a young god
with a youthful nourished body from the glitters its mind contains
like a wise stag, you've lived your ife as not to shame
the wisdoms and truth carried in your name
you make love to me
my wounds you clearly see
My lovliness dare not loosen themselves from me
my spirit is wise
and its beauty
its heart
its demise
but I am safe with you making love from behind my thighs
I am recognized for the creature I really am
not the kind to still be walking the land
but with your face in mine
my eyes flicker with a hope, completely consolidated
by your firm touch
your firm kiss
upon my soft halo
we are
the same creature
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 6:57 AM UTC
Did you notice me standing on the sidewalk a little ways from the both of you? I don't know if it was a dream but I remember slicing a part of my arm to let my crimson blood drip onto the ground to mix with precipitation and flow into the sewers to feel something, to feel confirmation that it was only a dream. I felt the pain, saw the blood and still you were there, intertwined around her like ribbon around a gift. I think of the times when you showed up right outside my door, looking desperate and deprived, and I still catered to your every need even though a little voice in my head screamed STOP HE'S USING YOU as it cut into my nerves and shook my conscience. Yet I broke all the rules for you, committing modern day badass-ery. And even now I question you on whether you would break your clock and volunteer time you didn't have for me. You wouldn't, I think, you didn't even speak to me and you answer awkwardly, like snakes were choking you and constricting your windpipe and as if acid were burning your larynx to the point of muting you when I did. I stopped questioning you and let you be for a very long while even though the little voice protested that I should think for myself. You seeing me started becoming a privilege because you only showed up once in a while to lock lips and embrace me. I don't remember a single day where all we did was just get ice-creams and chill somewhere with the company of only each other.
I was used and boy is it emphasized as you stand a little ways from me, wrapped around her.
I see you kissing her like how you kissed me, putting your arms around her like how you did me. But will she ever know how the love I had for you engulfed you in a dark shadow, stretching to the galaxies beyond and appealing to the moon for it's blessing? I knew, from that moment on, that loving you is mistake I will never make again. Even if I'm breaking down at 2 am suppers, consuming yogurt by the tub and pulling all of my hair out because of that one kiss I saw you share with someone I trusted, I will never tear my heart in two ever again just to share a piece with you for I know you won't care for it. Don't burn me with the memories we had since I have set them on fire the moment I saw you and her.
But I don't have the strength to keep myself standing upright as I stand a little ways from you wrapped around her, and I crumble to the ground, shattering into ash...
(lunarlullubies)
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 3:50 AM UTC
once she could think well; the world catered to her call
no monsters hid under piles of newspaper over warm grates
the street was a black river, not an interruption of being
strangers sold tainted chocolates; the apocalypse was being lost
but she revolted to the wrong road and saw a flash of color
as the landscape came with thoughtless clarity
alice could never resurrect a deadened neverland
true utopia was reclaimed and found to be in reverse
the rosy view of a negative came in three-by-five prints
although she discarded knowledge and journeyed to kansas
her eyes could not forget the lure of exquisite babylon
May 26, 2010
May 26, 2010 at 4:42 PM UTC
You existed; lived simply to love me
At least that’s the way I thought
Until the ghost of you no longer see
Made bereft and left me overwrought
I thought I was all that mattered
Was your centre; your whole life
Your own hopes and dreams shattered
When you became my wife
You did your job. You kept me happy
Catered and bowed to all my needs
But me like a greedy puppy. Yappy
Selfishly caused your soul to bleed
The more you seemed to do and give
The more I grappled to take
The fact you had lost the will to live
My selfish brain no dent did make
I thought you were just bluffing
You couldn’t be so depressed
So lazily I carried on; did nothing
Broke you down in final test
They said they found your little car
Your licence cards, and keys
Angry engine humming. Doors ajar
At the docks down by the quays
Of you they said they found no trace
The currents there were stronger
You would wash up in some other place
They would find you. Just takes longer
Months have gone by but still no you
Has washed up. The police have said
The protocol. What they now must do
Is officially declare you dead!
She couldn’t handle it any more
Suicide; she took her own life
Her husband killed her to the core
Destroyed this doormat wife
So now I wallow in my guilt
Too little too late; now realising
The man she nurtured. Fed, and built
She killed herself despising
She has gone…….
In a cottage garden in Bordeaux
A lady sits smiling; quietly contented
Tragic suicide. Drowning. NO! All faux
Make escape her living hell tormented
She’s glad she saved that money
Stayed strong when life hit the buffers
Gorge on new life sweet as honey
While her hoggish husband suffers
©pofacedpoetry (Billy Reynard-Bowness 2018 – All rights reserved)
Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 8:16 AM UTC
Restless Encounter
Returned from the graveyard shift
I needed a lift
Puppy eyes shut
Barks abut
I couldn't sleep
So I counted sheep
One, two, three, four
There's a knock at the door
It's an old cougar
That wants to borrow sugar
Coast was clear
I had no fear
Two hours later
The gator was catered
It's back to sleep
Counting sheep
Halfway to fourty
Lawn mower sounds, oh lordly
Two hours later
The gator's a hater
It's back to sleep
Counting sheep
Twist and turned twenty five
And more unneeded jive
Alarm clock set for wrong time
Chime, chime, chime
Can you believe that
The gator spat
It's back to sleep
Counting sheep
I see her in the lea
Playing with me
Her wool a nice set
As my gator's lip wet
And this time the wifely returns
My insides want to burn, burn, burn
My gator sighs
As she says hi
Hi I weep, weep, weep
Please I need some sleep
She looks (esoteric) at me
With that look of plea, plea, plea
She wants her sugar fix, too
My gator singing it's blue
My eyes want to close
But there she blows
Chime, chime, chime
Wifely having a good time
On top of the train track
Gators attacked
His sheep counting on him
To stop the bedlam
Logan Robertson
9/6/17
Sep 6, 2017
Sep 6, 2017 at 9:21 AM UTC
I believe in broken love and love lost,
Which may seem like two separate things;
However, they are in unison.
Love has grown to become so cliche and overplayed;
But in it's most pure form is spectacular and divine Until taken advantage of.
Love can come young,
but it is rarely understood, ever.
When love is misinterpreted,
There is chance for it to become broken.
Then, after the love breaks,
It leaks out until lost
In a deep ocean of emotions and thoughts.
Three years ago,
My first serious relationship had started.
I was completely clueless to what had started happening.
I knew I had felt different.
I began developing a sense of "we" instead of "me".
I had never been so happy, intrigued, or fascinated.
All this by another mortal human being.
After a few months,
I realized I had finally started experiencing what seemed to be true love;
And as time progressed,
I lost myself
For what I thought was the relationship itself.
I attempted to regain independence,
But one thing lead to another
And hate began overpowering the love and affection.
Though I never left,
I found another lover.
Well, I guess one could say another found me. Misconstruing love and lust,
I drifted into a world of sin and slickness.
My needs were finally being catered to
As I indulged in the best of both worlds.
I felt as if I finally deserved this.
I had been faithful for two years,
So shouldn't I get some free time?
After all, I stayed after they cheated.
They can do the same,
Especially since I won't keep this up for long.
I thought this was acceptable in my own eyes,
Yet I ignored the agonizing conviction that laid within my heart of being wrong.
One night, things had come to a ******
Between the new lover and I.
In the moment,
Boundaries of existence were broken.
However, afterwards I realized I had soiled the upmost precious thing I had ever possessed,
And that would be true love.
How could I have done this for pleasure?
Within a week, guilt had overtaken me.
I had to either come clean or leave.
I knew I would hurt her if I had told the truth
More than if I left.
I said that we were no longer meant to be
Because our love had been broken with fighting and deceit.
She cried for a week,
Begging me to come back.
I realized I had done something so horrid.
I could never take it back.
I left someone good for someone great.
So, why did I feel so bad?
Now, I am without either
Because of the guilt trip I went through.
I had broken a love.
And now, love was lost in the sea of emotions,
Sinking to the infinite depths of darkness
To never be found again.
Jun 11, 2013
Jun 11, 2013 at 5:00 PM UTC