"deprecating" poems - Hello Poetry

I'm craving a man-hug tonight, initiated by strong arms picking up my under weight body letting me believe I'm re-enacting the lift from ***** dancing. And as those arms hold me close I would bury my face in his neck where after shave meets his soft pulse and the warmth of my breath. This hug would be so tight, tight enough to squeeze the pain out of my soul and be incredibly protective at the same time beating away the nightmares of reality late at night. A hug that draws out all the tears that should have been cried until my eyes run dry and start shedding all the rejection accumulated throughout this plight. An unconditional man-hug with its ends free, one not subjected to a **** in my mouth a cigarette ***** a cigarette couple of poems insomnia and a cold bed. I crave for a man-hug that will liberate me from the pathetic standards I've set for myself, of how I should be treated before handing a piece of me in exchange. One that would numb the little voice in my head which goes on and on about self-deprecating ******** bundling together all the mistakes made over the years and spanking my self-confidence until it dresses up in a short skirt and high heels and runs into the arms of a narcissist ***** A man-hug to step in and save the day when loneliness breaks in, and murders empowerment, independence and positivity in their sleep, then opens the door to insecurity and fear, who robs all hope, leaving behind intolerable darkness. I crave for a man-hug that follows through to the end with stability and consistency, like mom's cooking or my best friend, or daddy's instant reaction to defend. One that's tangible and attainable without twirling my fingers around forgotten jewellery, phone messages or a drunk memory just to remind myself what it felt like, but only to be reminded that it can never be felt again. Though I'm craving a man-hug tonight I will have no luck. Because anything with "man" in front of it, will always just be a ****

0

Mar 4, 2013

Mar 4, 2013 at 5:35 PM UTC

harsh

Man-Hug

I'm craving a man-hug tonight, initiated by strong arms picking up my under weight body letting me believe I'm re-enacting the lift from ***** dancing. And as those arms hold me close I would bury my face in his neck where after shave meets his soft pulse and the warmth of my breath. This hug would be so tight, tight enough to squeeze the pain out of my soul and be incredibly protective at the same time beating away the nightmares of reality late at night. A hug that draws out all the tears that should have been cried until my eyes run dry and start shedding all the rejection accumulated throughout this plight. An unconditional man-hug with its ends free, one not subjected to a **** in my mouth a cigarette ***** a cigarette couple of poems insomnia and a cold bed. I crave for a man-hug that will liberate me from the pathetic standards I've set for myself, of how I should be treated before handing a piece of me in exchange. One that would numb the little voice in my head which goes on and on about self-deprecating ******** bundling together all the mistakes made over the years and spanking my self-confidence until it dresses up in a short skirt and high heels and runs into the arms of a narcissist ***** A man-hug to step in and save the day when loneliness breaks in, and murders empowerment, independence and positivity in their sleep, then opens the door to insecurity and fear, who robs all hope, leaving behind intolerable darkness. I crave for a man-hug that follows through to the end with stability and consistency, like mom's cooking or my best friend, or daddy's instant reaction to defend. One that's tangible and attainable without twirling my fingers around forgotten jewellery, phone messages or a drunk memory just to remind myself what it felt like, but only to be reminded that it can never be felt again. Though I'm craving a man-hug tonight I will have no luck. Because anything with "man" in front of it, will always just be a ****