"infatuating" poems
The infatuating smile you got
On this spring day.
Capricious like you, London.
I can't stop myself from
Stumbling back to you.
The things unsaid, the poems unread
A thin lipped man like you, full beard suits you the best.
Ah, the beard,dotted with white snow flakes
my hearts skips for this fickle spring day.
May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 11:25 AM UTC
Tangled in the sheets
while your fingers play in places unseen,
your heart hides a monster that won't allow you to feel such things.
When she finally falls into the warming breeze and smiles at your gaze, you will shatter her hopes into shards of glass that will cut her apart for days.
You bitter man you,
will you ever change your ways?
A tightened jaw will forever keep the secret she held on for too long,
for how foolish of her to fall in love with a monster.
You'll catch her tear in your gnashing teeth in an angry thrash thereafter,
because you have realized how foolish you've been to have lost her.
So it's then you'll lure her in with your broken promises and infatuating praise,
leaving her once again broken and shattered for days.
You bitter man you,
will you ever change your ways?
She will find her strength one day,
and you'll have no choice but to turn away.
But, like the evil you are,
you'll await in the debths of the shadows,
hidden within the valleys of her heart.
You know exactly the spots within her
that have become rot with decay;
desperate and waiting for a healing,
patiently waiting for change.
Is this why you can never meet her gaze?
Look into her eyes and dare to see the damage you cannot undo,
you bitter man you.
...
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 7:30 PM UTC
my phone beeped
in an almost deserted train compartment.
my boss,
'where have you reached?'
I sighed and replied,
'should reach in 5'
(would reach in 20)
same old dance
to the tune of corporate slavery.
a sharp sound,
I looked up.
the sound dissolved
into a fit of giggles.
a group of kids
playing around, teasing,
their mother close by;
a hawker, selling trinkets in the train.
it looked so natural.
a working mum
looking after her kids while on the job
(doesn't work that way does it?
guess they didn't have anywhere safe
without her)
I couldn't look away.
it was such a sight...
torn, tattered clothes
dirt and mud all over
and those innocent giggles;
it didn't add up.
I was tired, aching,
infatuating about sleep;
feet bleeding in killer heels,
rushing around without purpose,
forced into an exploitative overtime job
by myself; frustrated,
trying to keep up with society.
the little family
calm, collected;
torn, tattered smiles held with grace,
facing their exploitative poverty
with innocent mischief and honest labour.
confused,
I had a thought:
that's the life they've known,
this is the life I've known.
we fit in our lives...
differently?
no...
we fit in different lives in the same way.
I struggle she struggles,
we both have good bad days.
I didn't realize I was smiling
till she smiled back.
I bought something
and got off at the next stop,
wishing she has more good days than bad
and the kids keep their giggles
a little longer than they can..
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 3:29 PM UTC
*"I got a rose today.
Beautiful
with it's broken thorns,
and ii's missing petals.
Bright
with it's breath-taking colors
and it's smart appearance
Delicate
With it's infatuating ways
and it's sensible body
Confusing
for I can't tell if it's naked
or that's the only dress it has."*
**"I got a rose today,
Beautiful,
Bright,
Delicate,
Confusing,
and her name is Vanessa."**
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 6:22 PM UTC
#*I want you to stay
When I ask you to leave
I want you to say nice things
When it's falling apart for me
You asked me
To help a dying man -and I did
With bruises on my arms
A kiss on my lips
You ran out of your cigarette
I ran out of wine
I let the fate ****** all
What once was mine
You hurt me so good
Spinning me around all night
Holding me so tight
So you don't lose the sight
After all, you're the cage I dread
A ghost –infatuating my mind
You came to burn my soul
I've seen the rage,
In your dark eyes,
I have seen the ravaging fire*#
Dec 31, 2018
Dec 31, 2018 at 6:13 AM UTC
And what is beauty but more than just an outward reflection
of ourselves that we see in someone else?
Perhaps an awkward perception,
but often conceptions of conclusions drawn
in our mind, all beginning with a thought,
sparked up by a glance,
peripheral markings in the eye.
An undying desire to fit puzzle pieces into proper positions
once and for all.
Wedged into uncertainty,
A young ***** in my heart for eternity.
Reflections of ourselves we seek in another; common ground.
Infatuating us with others
an indirect narcissistic form.
Nov 29, 2010
Nov 29, 2010 at 1:50 AM UTC
As my beauty draws you near
I'm infatuating you with my disguise
leaning in to whisper words, insincere
darkness lures you, through my eyes
With a touch upon my body
the poison spreads within your veins
I'm not the person I embody
not a drop of good remains
Soon to be mine, my fixation
as my infectious vines will climb
up those who caused my mutation
the revenge will spread in time
As the surface of your skin
receives my hives, it sets ablaze
while the corrupting toxins set in
and your mind fills with haze
Vines climb squeezing you tight
green leaves red, feel my wrath
around your neck, your face white
breathless for walking down my path.
Dec 11, 2013
Dec 11, 2013 at 1:22 PM UTC
Do you remember
our summers
I replay it in my memory
vividly, you infatuating me
we sat and talked ourselves
into loving one another
on a tree with branches
twisting awkwardly
Somehow
we settled on it comfortably
just the two of us
for the weekend
overlooking the still lake
reflecting our bare feet
the restless clouds
and the warm gold sun
spotting the peaks
of the pine trees
whose scent filled our lungs
the sun would fall to the lake
and I would fall for you again
it happened every time
every tedious summer
every nervous weekend
for four years of our lives
Then just yesterday, years later
you tell me the flowers
we found by the lake
that you gave to me
with a gentle kiss
were poisonous
then I tell you
even if I knew
back then
I'd still
kiss
you
holding those fateful flowers
every summer, all over again
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 12:26 AM UTC
I am stained with your colour;
Royal purple and blinding white.
I am smothered by your scent;
Marlboro cigarettes and cheap alcohol.
I am lost in your words;
Mellifluous syllables and sage proverbs.
You must be a sorcerer, for I have been bewitched.
You roam through my mind, casting hexes as you go;
I see you walk with that charming little gait of yours.
The memory of your face is hypnotising, infatuating;
Perhaps I have been cursed, but I hope this necromancy lasts forever.
Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 9:42 PM UTC
In the weirdest, yet most important of ways this was one of the sweetest things I'll ever be told
whether we want to admit it or not we can grow up, move away, find another and start a family but you never truly forget your first love
there will forever be a place in your heart for the first one you gave it to
that person got parts of you that no one else ever will because that YOU was one of a kind
and the kind of love you shared is crazy, and infatuating and raw and maybe one of the most real things you experience regardless of when that comes to you
whether like me, you were 14 and naiive or 20 and experiencing that "first love" for the first time, it's a kind of special that no one can take from you
and I urge you to hold onto that
those memories made you into who you are today
that person gets a piece of you that they will never give back,
and you'll be walking down the street one day and you'll hear a song coming from a car passing by and it will remind you of them
Or
while you are grocery shopping with your pregnant belly and a cart full of produce, someone will walk by and you will smell their detergent
and it will take you back to that dingy old bedroom, with *** stained sheets and cigarette butts on the floor and you'll smile in the bittersweetness of those memories
they will be there to stay
for the rest of your days
those little moments will be all yours, and no one can take that from you...
"that means a lot, and i am sorry for being a **** as a younger person. i am glad you took something positive from it at all and not just remember me as an asswhipe (i was). you have kinda been the girl every one of them gets compared to as far as being a good or bad gf lol. even if i died tomorrow, the things i understand and what i have in my heart - i could say i lived a full enough life to have gotten the idea. thank you lydia."
Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 10:53 PM UTC
there are two types of cancer.
there's the kind that's caused by an uncontrolled division of abnormal cells; we call them malignant tumours.
and there's the kind that's boys born on july 9th - 5'11'', with expressionless brown eyes, and in desperate need of a haircut;
we call them malignant ********
i can't shave my head in preparation for everything he will ruin, and requesting time off to cope with the fact that i loved this person is not a valid option.
MRI scans won't show you what happened to my brain after he told me i made it hard to hate the world or what happened after he told me i was the worst person he met in it. they won't tell you what it looks like to be told you're loved, hated, and then not cared about at all.
side effects include:
mood swings, triggered by those who are as infuriating as they are infatuating
loss of sleep because he wants to rant to you about socioeconomic structures until 3 in the ******* morning
dissociation of time because it doesn't exist when you can make someone laugh and tell you about his favourite jewish children's book and why he doesn't like big dogs and that even though his family is full of jerks and idiots, he'd still do what was needed to support them.
more severe side effects include:
writing about him months after he's made it harder to breathe, but willing yourself to talk about it to a room full of strangers
being crippled by the fear he might stumble lost in manhattan again and find the cafe you are complaining about him onstage in
i want this to be a survival story and tell you that i do not have business cards for being a tragic event organizer who throws the best pity parties in town. i want to tell you that i had enough self respect not to call him when i got re-diagnosed, despite the fact that he once told me diseases like cancer exist to **** out little pests like me and because he was the only person who told me i was going to be fine, live longer than him maybe, and to stop talking like it was the end.
but that was really hard because there's two types of cancer, and he's the one that did a significantly much better job at making me feel like i was dying.
Sep 22, 2016
Sep 22, 2016 at 2:21 AM UTC
I'm sorry that I will find myself more in broken skin and ****** blades than I will ever find myself in another human being
I'm sorry that the bottom of the bottle holds every type of emotional bond I've ever felt with another soul
I'm sorry that "I love you" is never enough because my hands will never only pull your skin in closer and my hands will never only write about your breath taking, infatuating kiss
I'm sorry. I'm truly, inconveniently sorry.
But I will fall asleep with the smell of your hair wrapped up in my lungs only to be awaken by the choking I feel without you next to me
And I will spread my torn up broken pieces all over your bed sheets while you rub my head mumbling I love you's like you're talking to an incoherent second grader because what is love if you are never going to be loved back
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 11:32 PM UTC
Make myself into a *****
I’ve been there before
The lesson of this ’sin’ begins within
the philosophy.
Society, a judgmental ***** calls it a monstrosity
but it’s simple
it’s lean
You can make it obscene
But the honest truth is it’s not easy to be easy
to rise above the want of love
Love is for family,
love is for friends
romance is for those to be called a martyr in the end
“But I gave her everything,
but I was a saint.”
But no, you were a ******* taint.
You wanted to get and that’s why you gave
you wanted a beautiful, infatuating slave
**** popular bred trust
give me chemical lust.
Superficial holes need superficial fillers
***** ****** tongues and fingers.
But the holes in my psyche are the holes for my demons.
They can’t be filled with gestures or *****
Those are for me, for ************ my reality.
to fall in love… to be together.
Ridiculous expectations… the result of expired tradition.
You will fail to receive that which does not exist.
So just grab my **** and press your mouth to my lips.
Jun 20, 2016
Jun 20, 2016 at 3:36 PM UTC
The wind has been asking for you;
missing you with a chill,
crying for you with a howl.
Constellations joined to draw a face;
I once unraveled every night.
Your face that I recite
its lines and curves;
what makes it laugh,
and what makes it cry.
The moon stood showing off its charms;
trying to imitate the infatuating you.
Cotton clouds softly,
and with grace;
crafted your name,
and engraved it in a night sky
with the blushing moonlight
that once cuddled us
in a world of love and war.
Oct 27, 2016
Oct 27, 2016 at 2:21 PM UTC
Some times I just break down and cry,
Some times my heart tells me that I want to die,
Let me be,
Someone please rescue me,
I sleep with my poison thoughts,
Even though there so terribly infatuating,
I can only spend my time accumulating,
My melancholy mind,
Setting up a tight bind,
I live to be just so sad,
How did I ever get this bad?,
Am I going mad?,
No this is just my Melancholy Mind
Apr 1, 2012
Apr 1, 2012 at 7:52 PM UTC
It is not so much of a mysterious poem, your love, no.
It is more like a way of infatuating, me.
Your love, on most cynical days and nights,
is like a virgin's first sight of snow.
Freezing temperature, a sane white rose, at the most.
Your caricature could **** a woman, you assortment
of beautiful things that the insane can only see.
When the smoke consumes your eyes,
you look so divine, my King.
*And it's your love that takes me by chance,
by the time it's dawn,
chance has met my match, darling.
And you proceed, to weep,
into my ears, are whispers
that tingle so romantically,
so intimately, and you proceed
to carelessly
call me
your*
Queen.
Sep 4, 2014
Sep 4, 2014 at 8:55 PM UTC
“What’s your poison?” She said softly, her head against his beating chest.
“Heartbreak,” He replied reluctantly, “and the thought of being in love.”
“I’ve never heard that before. I’m not too sure I understand what you’re trying to say.”
“Heartbreak is a terrible thing but it’s completely infatuating. When someone knows your biggest, darkest secrets and they still want to be around you. That’s something I crave for. It may be poison, but it’s never tasted so good.”
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 8:54 PM UTC
Invading the stage with her pulchritude,
Insatiable lust turns men into dust.
Infatuating her awed multitudes.
Sweetly pretty with a blush you can trust.
Gives more than she takes and's open to change.
Her future's not just a mixture of days.
As seasons change, her reasons remain.
More wild than tame, nature's fixture of fate.
Our Mother Earth embodies her, perfect.
And she gives The Universe its purpose.
Comets and stars come from afar, worth it.
If you catch a glance, then you deserve it.
As fresh as time and as pure as water.
Take good care of her, she's God's own daughter.
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 1:40 PM UTC
Amazing, you are the everlasting definition.
I can look at you over and over, it’s an infatuating repetition.
Your beauty is more addicting than anything I’ve ever seen.
You’re the very best of all the best is what I’m telling you I mean.
You can bring my smile out just by being on my mind.
Some girls come a dime a dozen, but you are one of a kind.
Never change a thing about you; you are just perfect how you are.
In the blackest of the night, you are that single shining star.
On a scale of one to ten, I can say you’re off the chart.
But I’m sure that you have known that ever since the very start.
But now I’m telling you the door is open, so just walk in and take my heart.
You aren’t just something for me to look at; you are a priceless work of art.
You can tell me this and tell me that.
Tell me lies and tell me fact.
No matter what my ears are open.
Let’s run away you’ll say, I’m hoping.
Let’s travel the world and see new sights.
Cross new borders and reach new heights.
We’ll forget the days and enjoy the nights.
But just in case you didn’t hear, once again let’s run away.
And if not now, and if not then there’s one more thing that I must say.
I’ll be right here, waiting on you, for time to being that special day.
Oct 13, 2009
Oct 13, 2009 at 6:10 PM UTC
wh O o Sh ! ) the sun sprechen
a malleable droplet
of porous handles
meandering careless clumps o
f
a and the ghost
of spectral
mouths ephemerate
delightful femurs
loaded sensual creamy morsels
some alabaster muscles singing sordid
or a too short skirt
i can'
t kept my skin
burning cherry infatuating scald
i barely
am
real
at the
pursed
eternity
of
thy immense
finite
coffin
Jan 12, 2011
Jan 12, 2011 at 9:41 AM UTC
my heart sang for you
in melodies you hadn't heard before
it was infatuating to you
so you listened every night
but at break of dawn
when the stars no longer aligned
you left my singing heart alone
with it's melody in mind
Dec 18, 2018
Dec 18, 2018 at 3:35 PM UTC
i crave you
i ache for your hands,
your touch
it was as if you knew
every turn and curve
of my body
as if i was your masterpiece.
you wallow in me
as if i was the finest piece of art
you’ve ever seen.
it was an infatuating love
a gentle love
a reassuring love
a love that was so beautiful
so pure
yet so hazardous.
GM
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 5:14 AM UTC
because i've come to find that love isn't found at the end of broken and shattered bottles. it doesn't just pour out of cup and it cannot just seep through my lips. i have figured out that love is not captivated inside of a medicine container and love can't just be swallowed down with a big glass of water. i've never really found love inside of the drawers in the corner in my room and nor have i found it in the empty shoe boxes that are stacked on the very top shelf of my closet. but where i have found love, is in you. because love, which i've come to find, is a note sticking to the side of a half-drunken bottle reading: Here, drink the rest. love just pours out of your lips when you slowly whisper to me, "you're unceasingly infatuating." i have finally figured out that love is stuck in the downward curl of your eyes when you give me the, "i'm only smiling for you," smile. i have always seemed to find love in the smell of your oversized t-shirt that you hate wearing and the one little bracelet that you never take off but that i now have. i have never really found love when i looked for it, but as soon i stopped looking, i found all of it in you.
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 9:37 PM UTC
i am sorry,
that i drank your words up
like you were some kind of infatuating bottle of forever.
i am sorry,
that i used my ears as lungs
to inhale all of your problems
and exhale my advice,
knowing that the second your cancer took over my mind
and i could no longer breathe anymore
you would go away
and look for your next victim to intoxicate.
i am sorry, that i cut into my chest
and ripped out ever last living flower in me,
just to see you smile for a second
and i am sorry,
that i let you become so obsessed with the fact that
i was willing to give you the best parts of me
so that you could put yourself back together again.
because i know, that if you had a chance
to give me the same pill of love that i gave you,
you would pack it full of your selfish ambitions
and tell me to drink it down with a glass of self-destruction.
because you didn't care the way i did
and you didn't love the way i did
and i said i would take a bullet for you
but i am sorry.
i am so sorry,
that i let you pull the trigger
and use me as your target practice.
Jun 17, 2017
Jun 17, 2017 at 2:01 PM UTC