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reflectionzero Aug 2015
The truth is that I never shook my shadow
Every day, it's trying to trick me into doing battle
Calling out 'faker', only get me rattled
Wanna pull me back behind the fence with the cattle

Building your lenses, digging your trenches
Put me on the front line, leave me with a dumb mind
With no defenses but your defense is
If you can't stand to feel the pain then you are senseless

Since this, I've grown up some different kind of fighter
And when the darkness comes, let it inside you
And your darkness is shining, my darkness is shining
Have faith in myself
Truth

I've seen a million numbered doors on the horizon
Now which is the future you're choosing before you go dying?
I'll tell you about a secret I've been undermining
Every little lie in this world comes from dividing

Say you're my lover, say you're my own, homie
Tilt my chin back, slit my throat
Take a bath in my blood, get to know me
All out of my secrets, all my enemies are turning into my teachers

Because light's blinding, no way dividing
What's yours or mine when everything's shining?
You darkness is shining, my darkness is shining
Have faith in ourselves
Truth

Yes, I'm only loving, only trying to only love
And, yes, and what I'm trying to do is only loving
Yes, I'm only loving, trying to only love
I swear to God, I'm only trying to be loving

Yes, I'm only lonely loving
Yes, I'm only feeling only loving, only loving
You say it ain't loving, ain't loving
Ain't loving, my loving

But I'm only loving, still only loving
Swear to god, I'm only loving
Trying to be loving, loving
Loving, loving, loving, loving

Yes I'm only loving, yes, trying to only love
I swear to god, I'm trying but I'm only loving
You say it ain't loving, ain't loving, ain't loving
Ain't loving, ain't loving my loving
But I'm only loving, loving, loving, loving the truth

Truth

-alexander
a silent chaos Nov 2018
Loving you is life,
loving you is having you
loving you is the beginnings
loving you is the cold
loving you is fire
loving you is the storm
loving you is vibrant colors
loving you is gloomy nights
loving you is everydays of joy
loving you is sadness together
loving you is being simple
loving you is a flaw
loving you is noticing the unnoticeable
loving you is loving you nonetheless
loving you is wanting to see a smile
loving you is the mood
loving you is looking forward
loving you is a glimpse of the past
loving you is an uphill
loving you is feeling down
loving you is an adventure
loving you is unexpected
loving you is pain
loving you is mended wounds
loving you is believing
loving you is broken trust
loving you was a journey,
loving you was life.
MUFFY LOVE Feb 2019
love loving you and me
love loving you my little children
love loving you little by little.
love loving you noonie and zion
love loving you kiki boog and fat dad.
love loving you my little children!
love loving you darling, has a certain thing
love loving you darling, o, how they love me
love loving you darling,
love loving you baby
love loving you little dream
love loving you who
would have known it;
love loving you little baby
love loving you and i'm glad you to call you mine.
gods greatest gift.
love loving you is no surprise
love loving you my little children .
my greatest blessings call me mom
love loving you and me
love loving you my little children!

Cara Chappell ©️
savanah tuttle Sep 2011
WHEN WINTER COMES IN SUMMER
WHEN THERE'S NO MORE FOREVER

THAT'S WHEN ILL STOP LOVING YOU
THAT'S WHEN ILL STOP LOVING YOU

I'M SURE YOU HEARD THESE WORDS BEFORE
AND I KNOW ITS HARD FOR YOU TO TRUST
THEM ONCE MORE

YOU'RE AFRAID IT ALL MIGHT END
AND A BROKEN HEART  IS SCARED
OF BRAKING AGAIN

BUT YOU GOTTA BELIEVE ME, ILL
NEVER LEAVE YOU
YOU'LL NEVER CRY LONG AS I AM THERE

AND I'LL ALWAYS BE THERE
YOU WILL NEVER BE WITHOUT LOVE

WHEN WINTER COMES IN SUMMER
WHEN THERE'S NO MORE FOREVER


THAT'S WHEN ILL STOP LOVING
THAT'S WHEN I'LL STOP LOVING YOU

THAT'S WHEN I'LL STOP LOVING
YOU,YEAH

AS LONG AS SUNLIGHT LIGHTS THE SKY
LIGHT OF LOVE WILL BE FOUND IN THESE
EYES OF MINE

AND I WILL SHINE THAT LIGHT FOR YOU
YOU'RE THE ONLY ONE, ILL EVER GIVE
THIS HEART TO

WHAT I'M TRYING TO SAY IS NOTHING
WILL CHANGE THIS
THERE BE NO TIME THAT YOU WON'T FIND ME
THERE

CAUSE I''LL ALWAYS BE THERE
YOU WILL ALWAYS HAVE ALL MY LOVE

WHEN WINTER COMES IN SUMMER
WHEN THERE'S NO MORE FOREVER

WHEN LIES BECOME THE TRUTH
WELL YOU'LL KNOW BABY

THAT'S WHEN I'LL STOP LOVING
THAT'S WHEN I'LL STOP LOVING YOU

THAT'S WHEN I'LL STOP LOVING
YOU

WHEN THIS WORLD DOES'NT TURN ANYMORE
WHEN ALL THE STARS ALL DECIDE TO STOP
SHINNING

T'IL THEN I'M GONNA BE BY YOU'R SIDE
I'M GONNA BE LOVING YOU FOREVER,
EVERYDAY OF MY LIFE

I'M GONNA BE LOVING YOU
FOREVER,EVERYDAY OF MY LIFE

OH YEAH,YEAH,YEAH

WELL THEN YOU KNOW BABY
THAT'S WHEN I'LL STOP LOVING YOU

THAT'S WHEN I'LL STOP LOVING
THAT'S WHEN I'LL STOP LOVING YOU

WHEN WINTER COMES IN SUMMER
WHEN THERE'S NO MORE FOREVER

WHEN LIES BECOME THE TRUTH
WELL YOU'LL KNOW BABY

THAT'S WHEN I'LL STOP LOVING
THAT'S WHEN I'LL STOP LOVING YOU

WHEN WINTER COMES IN SUMMER
WHEN THERE'S NO MORE FOREVER

WHEN LIES BECOME THE TRUTH
WELL YOU'LL KNOW BABY

THAT'S WHEN I'LL STOP LOVING
THAT'S WHEN I'LL STOP LOVING YOU
SøułSurvivør May 2015
---

by loving
alienation
by loving
doubt
by loving
obliteration
by loving
draught

by loving
dejection
by loving
wear
by loving
rejection
by loving
fear

by loving
sorrow
by loving
pain
by loving
furrows
by loving
rain

by loving
giving
by loving
both
by loving
living
by loving

GROWTH


soulsurvivor
(c) 2/23/2015
I've known both love and hate
TO LOVE IS BETTER
Äŧül Feb 2015
Loving you is not only my passion,
But it has also become my sole creed,
Yes it is my unfailing duty, darling.

Loving you does not only yield pleasure,
But it even gives me a sense of responsibility,
Yes it is my purest relationship, darling.

Loving you will not only be all I do in life,
But it also inspires me to be well off financially,
Yes it is already inspiring me to toil, darling.

Loving you would not only satisfy my heart,
But it would also quench the inner thirst of my soul,
Yes it is my milk shake and my sugarcane juice.

Loving you can not only help me live longer,
But it brings the sweetest changes in my bitter life,
Yes it is bringing you to my me my future wife.

Loving you won't just be a reason to be proud,
But it will bring me the actual family of my own,
Yes it is going to be a story worth remembering.

Loving you could not just be my exclusive right,
But it will be a privilege of our kids from tomorrow,
Yes it is so good for us having you young at heart.

Loving you is not only such hopes in my heart,
But it is also a promise for the brighter days ahead,
Yes it is a blessing and a boon granted to me, dear.

Loving you is not just expectations on my mind,
But it will also bring planned happiness to us both,
Yes it is a planned future for the two of us besties.

Loving you is not for my own self-centric interests,
But it is with keeping your future smile in my mind,
Yes it is both a priority in my life and also its crux.

Loving you is not just the important duty of my soul,
But it will also continue to pacify you even in my absence,
Yes it is giving you the confidence and that flair to win.

Loving you is not just everything right for you & me,
But it could also be something fruitful for the society too,
Yes it is giving us both the purest of all heavenly feeling.

Loving you is not only the superhuman thing I feel,
But it is a security for me as well knowing you love me too,
Yes it is my last resort where I bask in the harshest sun.

Loving you is not just my most important deed in life,
But it is also always inspiring me to be by your side steadily,
Yes it is going to be me holding your shoulder in difficulty.

Loving you is not only this serious discipline of mine,
But it is even a way to give me this never before happiness,
Yes it is helping you and me to discover ourselves better.
Fifteen stanzas describing only a part of what I feel just for Kripi Mehra. I will keep writing poems for her whether I live tomorrow or not. When I die before her tomorrow then I will wait for her in the purgatory to make sure she gets to be admitted in heaven.

My HP Poem #791
©Atul Kaushal
Deedee Denson Feb 2011
Lovin you cause you are the key 2 my heart,
Loving u cause we'll never part,
Loving u cause you're my friend,
Loving u from beginning to end,
Loving u each and every day,
Loving u cause u will stay,
Loving u the best i can,
loving u cause you're my man,
Loving u with all my soul,
Loving u until i grow old,
Loving u cause you're the right to my wrong,
Loving u cause we belong,
Loving you until I can't anymore,
Loving u is what m heart beats for,
Loving you cause u won't say goodbye,
I'm loving u until the day i die.
Äŧül Jan 2018
Loving you I discovered myself,
Loving you I've attained Nirvaṇa.
Loving you I've defined my Karma,
Loving you I've adopted my Dharma,
Loving you I've found my identity,
Loving you I've moulded my life,
Loving you I've known myself.

Loving you is my sole mission,
Loving you is my only passion,
Loving you is my raging fashion,
Loving you is my loyalty creation,
Loving you is my full regression,
Loving you is my lonely lotion,
Loving you is my fuller ration.

Loving you never was a regret,
Loving you I have recounted it all,
Loving you is a thing I always knew.
This one is for you, my darling best friend Pooh Bear, like all other poems of mine.

Regression: Past life regression, recounting one's previous birth.

My HP Poem #1693
©Atul Kaushal
Sam Conrad Nov 2013
Loving yourself
Doesn't mean be self absorbed
Doesn't mean be a total ****
Because you need to love yourself

Loving yourself
Is recognizing you're human
And that you make mistakes
And that it's okay to make mistakes

Loving yourself
Is when you mess up really bad
When you say the wrong things
But you go back to try and fix them to validate you're not a *******

Loving yourself
Means that when you go back and try to fix things
And you aren't able to fix things
You lift yourself up anyway because you know you tried to fix it

Loving yourself
Doesn't mean tiptoeing
Around what bothers you
It means you face your fears and realize it's not the end of the world to fail

Loving yourself
Is realizing that the first step to success
Is failure
That falling is good because you try again until you get it right, not give up

Loving yourself
Is having persistence
To prove them all wrong
And not get upset when you can't because sometimes you can't

Loving yourself
Is admiring your trying
Because you should be proud that you try to make things right and you try to make things better
Not only for me, but for yourself, because it bothers you too, to be so mean

Loving yourself
Doesn't mean you look down on others
It means you accept everybody, even your enemies, those that hurt you
You just don't look down on yourself

Loving yourself
Is when someone tells you you're horrible
But you know better than what they say because you know you try and you try so hard
You stand tall but

Loving yourself
Doesn't mean you're better
Because everyone is human and you make mistakes too
You don't hate on the bullies because they hurt just like you and you won't make the mistakes they do

Loving yourself
Sixolile May 2016
“Don't you miss being in love?”, she asks.
I simmer, gathering myself  and my thoughts.

No, I don't, because I have not been in love;
Not in the manner I imagine it.
I have loved - beautifully, might I add -
But never have I been in love.

How can I have?
At my best, all I knew was to compel, persuasively,
someone into loving me -
the best possible way I knew how.
I revealed just enough of myself,
the beautiful of myself,
the parts of me that drew butterflies.

Hidden were the broken parts of me,
those which keep me awake, sleepless -
'til the moon kisses me goodnight,
in the last hours before dawn.

I am not, by any means, denying ever loving.
I have loved, blindly and beautifully.
All I have ever been good at was loving -
loving someone into loving me,
the best way possible.

But, all of their love was inadequate.
A love which always fell short of loving me,
the best way possible.

Love; inadequate:
Unable to express loving me,
unable to express themselves of loving me.

In turn,
I was slapped with sloppy efforts of loving me -
Vague inadequacies of love.
It was never enough, not remotely close,
to what I had imaged loving me would be.
It was short of ever arousing me internally,
short of wits to spiral me into being in love.

And so, how can I miss being in love,
when it has always been a feeling that eluded me?
How can I miss being in love, when in love -
I concealed the broken parts of me?
How can I have been in love when I was lonely, in love?

How can I have been in love,
when all I knew of being in love was to love myself -
by loving whomever loved the aesthetic parts of me?


Loving me has always been an infatuation -
an infatuation of the broken pieces of me,
coming together to create an illusion of a love -
an unsatisfactory love for loving me.

How can I have ever been in love when no one has known,
expressed, conjured the best possible way of loving me.
All of me.

Once more, up at the last hours before dawn -
awaiting the moon to kiss me goodnight, I tell her.
Love is as much of an idea as it is a livelihood of feelings we can't explain in a logical sense, and each has a different way of perceiving and experiencing this idea.
RBHM Dec 2017
My loving mother loves me to pieces,
She tells herself that every minute, she tells me that every day,
But my loving mother lies,
She lies without meaning to;
She doesn't love me,
She loves the idea of me;

The idea of having a daughter of her own,
A smart one, who every grown up calls pretty and sweet;
But they lie too;
I'm not sweet anymore, I've long since turned sour,
And I'm most definitely not pretty, I'm average at the very best.

So I wonder, oh loving mother,
Why do you convince yourself that you love me?
Is it because I'm all you have left?
But you don't have me, my loving mother.
I gave myself away to depression long ago.

How would you know that anyways, loving mother?
Every time I show that side of me,
You get disappointed and a look of disgust crawls its way onto your face.

So I hide it,
Cry it away,
Instead I look as though I'm happy,
For you, loving mother.

I worry instead,
Like someone who has OCD,
Dwell over little things until the panic and pain hit like a shockwave and sends me flying;
You hate that too, loving mother,
Say that I'm acting, that I can and have to stop, that I'm faking it,
Oh how I wish I was, loving mother.

You also have the tendency of showing me off, loving mother,
Why is that?
I'm no prize to be won, no medal,
So why call me your daughter out in public when you could just avoid it?

I feel bad for you, loving mother,
So I show effort,
Try to look like less of a drab,
Try to sound less crabby,
Make it seem as though I'm happy.

But sometimes I break,
The bullying tends to make me do that,
And when that happens,
I could see the anger rise on your face.
I'm sorry for that, dear mother.

I'm sorry for that and many more:
For not saying I Love You back,
For not showing more emotion,
For being something that you have to fake-love,
For not doing better in life,
For making so many enemies when you have none,
For having to be a fraud around you,
For being me.

My loving mother loves me to pieces,
She tells herself that every minute, she tells me that every day,
But my loving mother lies,
She lies without meaning to;
She doesn't love me,
She loves the idea of me.
~RBH/M
J Jun 2016
What no one tells you about loving a writer,Is that they're nuts, man.They're slobs, they're hoarders, Have you seen my room? I barely have, to tell the truth.
Crumbled paper lines the floor, Ideas withering from the night before,
What no one tells you about dating a writer, Is that they're so moody.
We’ll try to play it off like some sort of
Artistic facade. Mysterious. Yep, that’s us!
But in reality, we’re probably just ******* wiped. We spent 3 days and 3 nights writing songs and painting pictures that you won’t ever see. And what no one tells you about dating a writer, Is that it is hard.
What no one tells you about loving a writer, is that they’re going to love you back. Hard. They might notice parts of you that you never have, they might focus in on each part and it might make you mad, But I promise they love every scar as much as they love every laugh. They might notice every freckle and how the ones on the small of your back, right there where you start to laugh when you get brushed by another, even lightly, make the little dipper, and how it might be cliche but it’s their favorite constellation. And they will try to connect the dots to make sense of your body, to create a solid thought.
Even if it does not come together like the stars in the sky, they will try and try and what no one tells you about loving a writer
Is that its hard. Remember what I said about us hoarding? We hold on to everything, letting go isn't something we do easily and we'll take in everything you say and do whatever we can to make you want to stay, we're messy, we're clumsy
we're odd but we will give you everything we've got. There’s a reason they have a desk full of half written poems, a reason they might feel so hard, they have a broken heart. Hearts that are whole don’t make art, We hate to admit it but it’s true so what no one tells you about loving a writer, is that you’re loving pieces. You’re loving Monday morning, Chaotic, panicked, angry, hungry. You’re loving Tuesday night, Tired, weary, shaky, sorry. You’re loving a Saturday afternoon when the week catches up and the bags under their eyes become a muse for a new piece they might spend weeks composing only to throw into the trash and what no one tells you about loving someone like that Is that it’s normal to throw away something that took so long to construct. But they won’t tell you that they’re used to that. What did you think made them write in the first place? They are used to that. Their whole lives have been building bridges with flammable wood Over barren lands. What no one tells you about loving a writer, Is that you’re loving two eyes, two hands, Two legs, two ears, and two lips but too many souls to try and control. Don’t try and control them, they’ll turn their back on you, they are conditioned to take their sorrows and turn then into words that can't be taken back, ones that make their spine stop chilling, Perhaps pass it on to another, what no one tells you about dating a writer, is that you will be that “another," you will have to absorb some of the energy, The forces that make these people soak up Every piece of sorrow in the world And make their heads heavy, And make their hearts scary, their hands shaky. What no one tells you about dating a writer, Is to be careful. They are broken and they cannot heal. Because they might stop creating, And their hearts might stop beating, Because their words bleed out of their skin, Their hands shape the world they’ve come to Live in, to love in, And their lungs are filled with every word you’ve ever said, And when you left, They took those words And wrote them down, And what no one tells you about dating a writer, Is that if youre not going to love the writer, At least give them something worth writing about. They will.
M3 Feb 2016
Loving you was going to that lock bridge and not closing the lock.... because if I did, it meant we were real, and if we were real, it meant we'd eventually be destroyed.

Loving you was like taking the batteries out of my watch on nights we weren't around.... because the ticks and the tocks only reminded me of how you said the sound synchronized with my heartbeat and steadied you to sleep.

Loving you was like cold hands on cold evenings because nothing even dared, not even my pockets, to confine me from touching you.

Loving you was sleepy afternoons and mid day naps because we'd stay up the whole night flying time like pilots whose only goal was to make each other laugh.

Loving you was like home after being abandoned and hope in hopeless romantic.

Loving you was that feeling in the pit of my stomach when something just wasn't right with you and.... loving you was endless promises of a future and now broken guarantees of what we thought would be.

Loving you at one time was having nothing to lose and everything to gain but now loving you comes and goes in strides like the tides, most nights I hardly even realize; the tides are at ease, but some nights the rocks at the shore are begging the sea to be consumed.

Loving you hopefully one day will be nothing more than a step on a stair case.

Loving you was this poem.
Xan Abyss Feb 2017
Break my heart in pieces
Leave me in the wind
I can be like a disease that eats away beneath your skin
Split my ribs wide open
Dig your fingers in
Rip apart my insides
As a harvest for my sins

But I can't stop loving you
No I just can't stop loving you
Though I try and I try, it appears that I just can't stop loving you

When you catch me staring
And I catch the glare in your eyes
I always die, slowly fading with the tide
Take my shattered wreckage
Re-glue me, limb by limb
Even though we both well know
I'll just be broken again

Still I can't stop loving you
No I just can't stop loving you
Though I try and I try, all I seem to find is that I can't stop loving you

You were the sun that shined
So bright through my overcast sky

And you melted off my wings
Once I flew too high

And yet I can't stop loving you
No I still can't stop loving you
Til the day that I die, my fate is that I will never stop loving you
I will never stop loving you

Because I just can't stop loving you...
I found this in a lyrics notebook of mine from months ago. Better lyrics than I remembered them being.
storm siren Nov 2016
Loving you is like finally be safe and warm
After a snow storm.

Loving you is like the relief of being able to see
After an ocular migraine.

Loving you is the comfort of the thrum of a safe heartbeat
After too much sensory input.

Loving you is like when the clouds drift from the sky
After the rain finally stops.

Loving you is like realizing you were really just hungry,
And not really all that angry at all
And the laughter that follows.

Loving you is like crunching autumn leaves
And the excitement of fall.

Loving you is being able to breathe
After a night terror.

Loving you is seeing my favorite flowers
Beginning to blossom in very early spring or the warmer parts of winter,
And bouncing with warm satisfaction.

Loving you is knowing that anything you give to me
Is wonderful and beautiful and I am always more than honored to have it to hold.

Loving you is finally being home
After years of not recognizing myself.

Loving you is being the best I can be.
Good morning. <3
Evie Helen Oct 29
Loving you is new tattoos,
Loving you is rain.
Loving you is a long weekend,
Loving you is fate.
Loving you is our favourite songs,
Loving you is blue.
Loving you is the colour of your eyes,
Loving you is true.
Loving you is testing my heart,
Loving you is right.
Loving you is your scent in my hair,
Loving you is night.
Loving you is all I am,
Loving you is kind.
Loving you is the only thing that’s ever on my mind.
Loving can hurt..
Loving can heal..
Loving can ****....
..Loving can make you feel alive..
Loving can change you..
..change you into a better person..
Loving can ****** away your reasons to continue breathing..
Loving can give you new reasons to live..
Loving can be difficult..
Loving can be impossible..
because we tend to fall in love with the ones who are not ready to love us back..
Love is not a game..
We simply cannot hack it..
Do not fall in love blindly..
..because out there,
there are people who are ready to do the things you are ready to do for them..
Loving is the best thing to do!
-Sharvish
You never find love..
love finds you..
show it that you're worth it..
or you'll regret it..
I am not ashamed to love you
As i sit here and cry
I am not ashamed to have love-d you.
No I am not ashamed to cry for you.
I am not ashamed to love you.
With every fibre of my being.
With every sin, with every moral
with every, ****** hair on my head.
I am not afraid to love you.
I am more afraid of not loving you, than loving you.
I am afraid of you loving me.
I am more afraid of you loving me more than i have even been afraid in my life.
Because than that makes love real.
I lost my love a long time way back when.
It's not important.
There's details in the details.
But my faith in loving you will not wane, falter, stop or die.
I am not ashamed to cry waterfalls of salty tears into my hands for you.
I am not ashamed of messaging you 3am in the morning to see how you are.
and getting no reply.
I am not ashamed to know that my attempts to love you are futile.
Yes, you.
You who would want to punch me in the face, the throat, the clavicles of my heart
to stop me, from loving, you.
I am not ashamed to love you like you were my only love.
I will sing for you in the car my love, i will hold your hand, i will bake you muffins,
My love.
And you would want to **** my very smile with your eyes.
I am not ashamed to lie on my bathroom floor with arms in my chest, with pain in my stomach, and my eyes blind,
from loving, you.
I am not.
I am not.
I am not.
I am not ashamed to be the laughing stock of my friends, family and lovers past;
for loving losers like you,
for loving someone like you,
for loving someone who didn't deserve me,
treated me like ****,
beat me,
use me, washed me up and dried me out, hung me out.
No i am not ashamed.
I am not ashamed to cry these tears because i lost you.
I am not ashamed to cry these tears because i am not in your arms.
For my heart beats strong.
For all these years,
through all these lovers,
through all these partners,
through all these ******, *******, tears.
For i love you more, each day.
For in this world where there is more hatred, pain, sorrow, suffering and loss
I would rather be ashamed for loving you,
than hating you for loving you once.

'We can only truly hate something we once also loved'
Logic eh? What else makes sense in this world?
B Jan 2016
You told me that loving me hurt. It hurt to love me and I never understood why until I tried to love myself. You're right, it did hurt. I understand now that it hurts to love someone that could never love you back the way you love them. It hurts loving someone who loves the duller things in life but also loves every ******* thing this world has to offer and there's no way to keep up with them. It hurts because you don't want to hold them back from what makes them happy. It hurts loving someone who's so distant but also needs to keep you as close as possible and you have no idea how to keep them from slipping away. It hurts loving someone who never knows what they want and can never make a decision so you're constantly frustrated. It hurts loving someone who doesn't trust you or anyone that you're around. They don't trust anyone for that matter. It hurts loving someone that flinches every time you try to touch them and you have no idea why. But you know, love is supposed to hurt sometimes. Love isn't supposed to make you feel like you're constantly walking on clouds. Love makes you feel like you have an anchor chained to your ankle and it's dragging you to the bottom of the ocean. Love makes you feel a heavy weight on your chest sometimes and that's ******* okay. I get it, though. Loving me hurt. But loving me doesn't hurt anymore ever since I stopped loving you. So I guess it wasn't me, it was you. Loving me hurt because of you.




                                        B.S.
Claire Elizabeth Apr 2017
A person does not go a life without loving.

There is loving how their lungs take in the entire world in one gasp
and there is loving how their eyes can see as far as the horizon will allow.

There is loving the way the leaves of a tree diffuses sunlight
and there is loving the way the sky can be so impossible blue.

There is loving their mother's laugh
and there is loving their dog's soft fur on a warm afternoon.

There is loving the beautiful curve of their lover's cheek
and there is loving how much they love.

One does not go a life without loving.
Aaron Anciano Sep 2016
Loving her makes me love her even more.
Loving her makes me fly higher than eagle's soar.
Loving her makes me want to see her smile that I adore.    
Loving her turns me to a man full of valor.
Loving her inspires me a lot.
Loving her amazes me a lot.
Loving her is a blessing.
Loving her makes me want to sing.
Loving her makes me want to dance on the floor.
Loving her makes me love her even more.
Neville Johnson Jan 2018
Loving you isn’t a choice  
It’s more than words can say
Loving you is who I am
Today and every day
Loving you, loving you

This is our time
Today, tomorrow
And eternity
Love and happiness our tools
The love of you and me

The best thing about it all
Is how I enjoy your good company
I don’t wish for anything more
We’re just cool on every scene

Loving you, loving you
Each and every day
Loving you, loving you
Always in all ways
Loving you, loving you
You save me every day
With your sweet talk and wisdom
It’s always been that way
Alyssa Underwood Sep 2017
There is little in this world that consistently causes our hearts more pain or which produces in us more need for forgiveness than rejection, especially from those whom it has cost us so much to love. It is universal anathema to the soul, and much of our lives can be unconsciously governed by the fear of it. So we find ourselves naturally asking, "Joy in the midst of rejection? Is that even possible?" Oh, yes! Not only possible but commanded of us who are believers in Christ. And not only commanded of us but ready to be gloriously bestowed on us like the most precious of pearls.

It's in the season of greatest rejection that we enter the season of greatest opportunity to discover the fullness of God's joy by discovering the fullness of His own heart. Walking in intimacy with Jesus through this searing pain may be one of the most priceless privileges of grace granted to us on this earth, for it opens up one of the widest doors for us to enter into the fellowship of sharing in His sufferings, and there is no more obvious chance to die to ourselves and live for Christ than in that holy communion of suffering with Him.

It's there that we're most able to clearly see Him and best prepared to clearly reflect Him, and it's then that we're empowered to live our lives here on earth from the very throne room of heaven, seated in the resurrected presence of our Bridegroom, where the joy always runs full and over. So our deepest heartaches will turn to deepest joys when we embrace them for the sake of Christ, to gain Him and be found in Him, to know Him in intimate detail through excruciatingly sweet experience. We will discover that the Lord entrusts the most luscious of blessings and the rarest of secrets to the most desperate and thirsty of souls, and that He delights to place the loveliest of wings on the lowliest of worms.

The gifts of myrrh's sorrow which the Father pours into the vessels of our lives are poured first into the hands of His own Son and flow through His nail-pierced scars before they ever touch us. And as we choose to graciously receive them as such, we are filled up with Him and enabled to pour Him out into the lives of others, even those who continually scorn and despise us.

The gift (yes, gift) of rejection is the high privilege of being asked by our Commander to become His flag bearer, receiving the esteemed honor of marching beside Him at the center of the front line, into the heat of the battle and into the face of the "enemy" (the rejecter), armed with no gun and carrying only His banner of love over our head for all to see. It's a sacred invitation into a certain death for the sake of knowing His love more intimately and for the service of displaying it more gloriously.

And if tempted to refuse the privilege, let us remember these two things: this life is so much more freely, joyfully lived when we have finally learned to count ourselves dead to it and alive to Christ, and the flow of His agape love through us will only be as strong as what it costs us to demonstrate it. The greater the cost, the purer the love; the purer the love, the more we are made like Him; the more we are made like Him, the more attuned we will be to His own heart's breaking and to our own breaking of it.

Oh, that we might be purged of ever thinking again that our neglecting of His love does not matter to Him! May He cause our hearts to break and break until we see how much it does! May we know the world's rejection again and again until we are finally scoured clean of our own despicable tendency to reject Him in favor of all our worldly playthings! No lover has ever endured more rejection than our Lover at our own hands and by our own hearts. And no lover continues to love through rejection with the determination and desire, suffering and sacrifice, tenderness and tenacity of our own Bridegroom. Can we not endure whatever He has called us to suffer for Him? Can we not allow it to drive us more fervently to His heart?... Lord, capture us by Your mighty hand and consume us by Your mighty flame, and may we pant and pine only for You, for Your love sets us free to dance in the midst of the fire!

How humbling, mystifying and worship-evoking it is to realize that the One we have so grievously rejected is the same One Who so perfectly understands and longs to comfort our own heart's grief when we are rejected. And to not run to Him now for that fellowship of healing would be to reject Him all over again and to break His heart once more. What could hurt Him more than our stubborn resistance to share in both His sufferings and His comfort when there is so much joy and intimacy waiting to be had with Him? Whatever ache our own heart knows, however deep and scathing, it cannot compare to the ache of His own heart when we let anything pull us away from Him, for He is rightly EVERYTHING to us—Father, Husband, Lover, Best Friend, Brother, Confidante, Kindred Spirit, Counselor, Nurturer, Rescuer, Healer, Hero... Behind the pain of every rejection is a legitimate need or desire that He is waiting to fill in us, and we have to let Him get to it by dying to our fleshly ones.

Or do we suppose that we might ever find true and lasting joy apart from dying to ourselves and abiding in Him when He died so that we might fully live in the joy of that abiding? No, true joy will only follow abiding; abiding and dying walk hand in hand, and rejection throws open the door for all three. Man's rejection is central to God's wooing, for it shatters our false expectations of human love and stirs in our hearts the longing for a perfect one. So let us not shrink back fearfully from that which can do us such good and teach us to love as Christ has loved us. With renewed passion, let us ask Him to wrap every affection of our hearts more tightly around Him that every desire might be united with His own and that we might learn to love in a way that sets our lives and the world around us ablaze!

To be despised and rejected and, still, to love—that is the ultimate triumph of Christ in our hearts, for we are never more like Him, never more full of Him, never more surrendered to His heart and His work than when He pours out His love through us to those who will not love us back. When we can stand in the face of bitter, cutting words, contemptuous looks and shaming mockery and still love fiercely but with a gentle and quiet spirit, we will know without doubt that it is His Spirit moving gloriously through us... Lord Jesus, Who so willingly floods our hearts with Your most precious gift, Yourself (and You are Love!), teach us to ever know You more and to rely fully on the love You have for us and ARE for us in infinite supply. Teach us to feast on the abundance of that love, and let it flow freely out of us to the ones who would reject, scorn, mock and hate us, so that they too might one day taste and be consumed by Your perfect love which drives out all fear—Your infinite, immeasurable love which heals all wounds and fills all emptiness and gives meaning to all of our pain. You alone, O LORD, are able to truly and purely love through rejection, but You live gloriously in us, so unleash Your mighty waters through us. Your love is everything, for You are Everything!...

Our all-sufficient Bridegroom is able to work His agape love most perfectly in us when that love poured out to another is not ever reciprocated, for it forces us to finally let Him fill us with Himself alone and to rely completely on His love instead of on the love of another to meet our heart's deepest hunger. The need for His filling IS our deepest hunger, and so our soul comes most alive not when it is loved by our fellow man but when it receives and pours out Jesus' love to our fellow man, expecting nothing in return but more of Him. Thus His love is made complete in us whether they ever love us back or not, and the fear of their rejection is eventually driven out by His perfect and perfecting love.

Even if love is never returned...never even received...it is never in vain, for "love never fails." To love someone, though we mean nothing to them, may seem too cruel a burden for the heart to bear, but the only thing worse than not being loved is to not love, and so the greatest tragedy of love spurned or lost would be to stop loving. For to cease loving that which causes us pain would be to let the pain win, but for as long as we love, really love with Christ's own heart, no matter what else happens, we win.

Love without pain remains unproven and, therefore, is meaningless, but love through pain invokes nothing less than the miraculous and inspires even the incredulous. The purer one's love, the more pain it causes when it is rejected, but only continued love can redeem the pain of loving, and only a perfect Love can heal love's scalding wound; the more scalding the wound, the better primed it is to receive that perfect Love fully into it.

There is great romance to be found in unrequited love that keeps loving, though it is beyond any human emotion or fleshly capacity or mortal understanding. It is a most sacred mystery which cannot be grasped with the head or even the heart but only with the spirit, for it is a love whose connection to Christ remains unsevered. There is perhaps no intimacy to compare to it, for it drives us to Him like nothing else will. It is a love whose longing for the other gives us the greatest insight into God's own aching longing for us. Only when it has cost us everything to keep loving do we begin to understand the smallest fraction of the wildly extravagant love Christ has for us or of the brutally scandalous pain which it has cost Him, and it will leave us in utter awe of Him and in love with Him like we have never been before.

As our focus is turned more and more toward His love for us and toward all of our previous rejecting of it, we will come to clearly see that agape love and rejection have everything to do with the the hearts of the lover and the rejecter and nothing to do with what the beloved and the rejected have done or deserve. For obviously we have done nothing to deserve God's love and He has nothing to deserve our rejection, yet He never stops loving us and we keep rejecting Him in ways we can't even comprehend. No one has ever known more rejection than the only One Who is completely worthy of love. Every time we sin we reject Him in favor of something else, but still He loves us without fail and without end. He loves us because He is love and because He has chosen to set His love on us. We are absolutely and irrevocably loved and accepted in Christ Jesus, and nothing and no one can ever change or mar that love. Our identity is completely secure in Him simply because of Who He is and who He says we are to Him.

Therefore no amount nor depth of rejection by anyone changes anything about who we are in Christ or our worth to Him. We do not need any man's love or acceptance to validate our worth, for it has already been established in the heavenly realms by the only One Whose verdict carries any real and lasting weight. We are significant and precious and holy to God regardless of what anyone else thinks of us or says of us or does to us. What has their rejection got to do with us? Nothing, for we are His! We are chosen and we are beloved! And so we are freed from the fear of rejection when we see that it cannot define us or taint us in the sight of the only One Whose opinion or judgment matters. It's a glorious thing to finally care what no man thinks of us, only the Master, for then we begin to be free to love all men as He loves them and to pray with deepest sincerity, humility and fervor even for those who spitefully reject us.

And even for that one who has hurt us most deeply, who has crushed our heart and thrown us to the wind like chaff without so much as a glance back, we will pray, no longer with only a slight and distant hope that he would return to us but now with a passionate desire to see the prodigal return to the heart of the Father. We will pray, not with a focus on life with him but with a focus on life for him. We will pray for a total and glorious restoration of his life to Christ, even if we will never be there beside him to share in the fellowship and joy of his homecoming, even if we will never get to experience up close in this life the thrill of seeing the Lord make something beautiful yet of his ashes. And this may be the hardest and truest test of our love for him—this painful sacrifice of desiring his absolute best apart from us. It is a wrenching blow to our pride and to our will (not to mention our codependence), for we had so longed to play the Muse and to awaken that beauty in him. So we know we could never yearn or pray for this out of our own strength or wisdom; it is simply too painful to our flesh. We must be led into it and through every delicate step of it by our loving Redeemer, our Bridegroom, as if He were leading us out under a canopy of the starry host and into the most intricate and intimate of moonlit dances. And so we begin to pray and to dance...

But even wrapped in Jesus' arms we are clumsy, stumbling miserably over our own feet. The music is perplexingly unfamiliar and the steps wildly unpredictable, and our toes feel terribly pinched in these new shoes. Maybe this dance is just too hard for us. Maybe we are not yet ready. Maybe we should sit it out for now and try again later when our shoes are a little more broken in or when our heart is a little less broken apart. So we pull away...

But He tenderly beckons us back: Dear and beloved bride, broken-but-beautiful one whom I have made My own, do not push Me away now, not after I have brought you so far. I have many more secrets to share with you and so much more to show you of Myself. But you are not letting Me lead this dance, beloved. Why are you so rigid in My embrace? Why so worried over the next steps? Let go of everything and abandon yourself to My love. Enjoy Me...Follow Me...Lean into Me...Keep watching My face...Let Me move you however I desire us to go...Trust Me...Love Me. Shall we dance, then?

Yes, we shall and we do! As He draws us into Himself, into the prayer of His heart and the dance of His Spirit, and as we give ourself over completely to the impulse of His leading, the details of our words and the precision of our steps give way to the desire and passion of His will, and the pulsating of our heart swirls to the rhythm of His own. The further He pulls us into union with Himself, the more we find ourselves desiring this same intimacy-with-Him for the very one who has so badly hurt us, for we see how badly he himself is hurting without it. We realize now that his running away from us and toward another is just as much a reflection of his insatiable yet misunderstood craving for God as was all of our running toward our own idols (including him). Our soul aches for his redemption and his healing and for his lost sheep's heart to be brought out of darkness and into the marvelous light that shines from Jesus' face, that he might truly know the pleasure of knowing the One Whose pleasure he was created for.

Somehow, through this heightened and mysterious intimacy of prayer for him, we are now discovering a strange and new kind of intimacy with this very one whose intimacy had so often given us the slip, this one whom we had so long loved and lived with but failed to uncover at all, and the fresh wind of it drives us even deeper into the ache of God's own heart for him and for us. It is at the center of that ache that we are finally able to let go of the hurt and the man and leave the matter entirely in God's hands, understanding that the Shepherd's aching heart knows fully all whom He has chosen and will never stop dealing with or seeking after any of His own sheep. And so...


                        We release to Him with a heart of trust
                        This one whom we love and always must
                        We can let go the man and rest because
                        It's out of our hands and always was



But the dance, like the feast, goes on and on, and the more we dance and the more we feast, the more we heal. Our Bridegroom wounds us by His own providence but washes our wounds with His faithfulness and binds them up with His love. The wounds and their healing make us beautiful to Him. They teach us to know Him, to hunger for Him, to enjoy Him and to please Him. And they get us perfectly ready for that most glorious of dances and that most joyous of feasts which are still to come but, perhaps, much closer than we might dare to imagine. It is time to awaken, dear bride of Christ, and to break in our dancing shoes!
~~~


"And so we know and rely on the love God has for us. God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in him. This is how love is made complete among us so that we will have confidence on the day of judgment: In this world we are like Jesus. There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love. We love because He first loved us."
~ 1 John 4:16-19

"And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us."
~ Romans 5:2b-5

"As you come to Him, the living Stone—rejected by humans but chosen by God and precious to Him— you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ."
~ 1 Peter 2:4-5

"He was despised and rejected by mankind,
    a man of suffering, and familiar with pain.
Like one from whom people hide their faces
    He was despised, and we held Him in low esteem.
Surely He took up our pain
    and bore our suffering,
yet we considered him punished by God,
    stricken by Him, and afflicted.
But He was pierced for our transgressions,
    He was crushed for our iniquities;
the punishment that brought us peace was on Him,
    and by His wounds we are healed."
~ Isaiah 53:3-5

"But whatever were gains to me I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things... I want to know Christ—yes, to know the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in His sufferings, becoming like Him in His death..."
~ Philippians 3:7-8a,10

"But He said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong."
~ 2 Corinthians 12:9-10

"For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ."
~ 2 Corinthians 1:5

"'Blessed are you who hunger now,
    for you will be satisfied.
Blessed are you who weep now,
    for you will laugh.
Blessed are you when people hate you,
    when they exclude you and insult you
    and reject your name as evil,
        because of the Son of Man.
Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, because great is your reward in heaven. For that is how their ancestors treated the prophets...But to you who are listening I say: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you...Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.'"
~ Luke 6:21-23,27-28,36

"Make sure that nobody pays back wrong for wrong, but always strive to do what is good for each other and for everyone else. Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus."
~ 1 Thessalonians 5:15-18

"You make known to me the path of life;
    You will fill me with joy in Your presence,
    with eternal pleasures at Your right hand."
~ Psalm 16:11

"I pray that out of His glorious riches He may strengthen you with power through His Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us, to Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen."
~ Ephesians 3:16-21

~~~
ASB Sep 2014
"I'm loving you",
she said.
not "I love you",
which is what most people say,
which is what I would have said --
"I'm loving you."
because it was an ongoing action,
not just a passive state,
because she was loving me
while I was reading, or cooking.
it wasn't something like
"how do you feel?" "I feel good."
"what do you love?" "you, dear."
-- no.
no, loving is a verb, an act,
one that takes patience and time
and perseverance.
"I'm loving you", she said,
and her tone was casual or
almost indifferent, maybe,
as if she had said "I'm cleaning
the house", as if it should follow
"what are you doing today?",
she said the words as if they were
positively ordinary, but they weren't.
people tend to ask
"do you smoke?" or "do you drink?"
or "what do you believe in?"
-- habitually, passively --
and she said
"I'm loving
(and loving and loving)
you."
Shannon Aug 2018
Loving you was meant to be beautiful
Loving you was meant to wrap me in a warmth
That comforted and reassured the
bottomless pit I call me


Loving you meant I had purpose
Loving you created a blanket that hid
All of the pain that comes with
Not loving myself


Loving you felt dead
Loving you would force me to pretend
That this parasite of you
Was good for me
Marlie Lynch Dec 2017
Loving me
Is late night lines of
Poetry
Read or written
Living vicariously through
Television shows
Loving me
Is new each morning
Hair straight
Hair curly
No make up today
Throwing on that pair of converse filled with coffee stains
Loving me
Is singing in the car
And pretending I don't know how tone-deaf I sound
Smiling at strangers
Drinking caffeine responsibly
Thinking I should probably pray more but never making the time
Loving me is
Saying no to that date
Working late
And waking up early because
Why would I want to miss one more second
Of a new and undiscovered morning
Loving me
Is finding myself
In a cramped desk in an old classroom
Under short, thin blonde hair
Between the bindings of a book
Curled in the sheets of my own bed
Chilled from a running fan
Because I like to be able to snuggle up
In blankets and pillows
And wake up searching for the socks that
I kicked off overnight in the warmth of my makeshift nest
I am a bird
And loving me
Is flying
High up in the sky
Away from the
Lying
Loving me is
Appreciating solitude
And listening to my own needs
When you ask me why I'm
"Alone"
It's because no one took the time to understand
How to love me
So here I am
Learning that before, during, and after loving someone else
I should always,
Forever,
Unconditionally
be
Loving me
DAVID Jul 2015
the darkest hour, the longing
is gone, no look back, nor remorse,
only scars and internal bleeding,
the time of sorrow is past, no remorse
nor songs of regrets, futile are the sorrow
songs,

despair is good, like love or an ******,
after the secrets behind the dress, loving
wanting the female scent, can smell you,
as lion to his prey, as bees on honey,
looking at the female eyes, loving silently,
longing lascivious touch, in the heat of lust,
falling as a sinner for her ****** doors,

the hour of lust never goes, is cursing
every moment and every piece of flesh,
like the merchant of Venice, taking your skin
as mi own, devouring the placer of
making her *** and letting her go.

us  poets souls, loving without remorse
feeling and making love threw words,
in a shallow world, full of badly lust, the lust of us,
is sour but never cold, only shallow souls
can't make love, us always trying to love,

the darkest hour, the longing is on,
mesmerizing the lascivious touch,
looking at you'r ******* face,
sweet as hell feeling mellow and fool
as a little boy, in the hour's of hates,
there is no remorse after those gay boys
in shallow hall, even them knows who is not

some loving threw phones,
us ******* threw words, like the
first lover threw words, mister George
lord of us all, the poets following the trails,
of love and lust, looking the fleur du mal,
reading the maldoror, and watching
at abysmal thoughts, of greats and crazy lost,
how many of you **** with words,
as Baudelaire says,
hypocrite reader mi brother, the truth
is on our souls, she watch for us all.

a season inferne, trying to love her
and making her keep the ******* soul,
soulless girl is already lost, crazy paths to her,
lost, but never stain my soul, in the darkest hour,
loving as i let go, feeling nothing, but the stain of
children blood in her hands, lost the soul, but trying
as never, to making her feel the love and lust in a
poets souls, beast are we all, of love and lust,

in this darkest hour, lost the heart but not my soul,
she is the love i make threw words, and lust is not
a game on her phone, or sexting foolishness,
where is thou lascivious touch, your heaven reach's,
gone. and never to return, too much connection
but no touch

lust is not a game, is an act of love,
pain and placer, lust and love,
flavors of the same drug, the drug of love,
every ****** is connected too us all, poetry
is ******* and loving threw words,
old pigs and lion and wolves,
making and matting and feeling it all.

the pain is part of lovers and lust, in
the empty streets of the days gone,
y can still see her with my eyes closed.
old lover of days far gone, still see you
with my eyes closed, the darkest hours
are gone and never to return, children's
blood stain the soul, of a soulless girl,

the our of darkness is not close to home,
i'm a poet in a crazy world, with out malice
or remorse, just a lover in the shallow halls,
full's of badly lust, and empty hearts with out the soul.
at the house of hell, immortality is far gone,
at this port of love and lust, are all vessels and boats
getting to the shore, or drawing in deep waters of
blood pain and lust, by not loving it all, pain and remorse
fear and love, lust and shame, all is there to feel it all,
there's  no escape for the truth in our souls, nor
ever going to be a safe port, the deep waters are
full of drawing boats, in the sea of life and love
let her go, and never look back as she lost her soul

the salt sculpture was looking back, now she is gone,
***** was full of badly lust, now she is a salty wall,
beneath hashem eyes she lost the ******* soul,
now and then never let the stain get's the soul,
is your only escape from hem, and his burning home
away the darkest hour, know that she is gone,
new dawns and new days, for this poet to love,
some day the cold will let her heart feel the eternal
fire of a poets soul. a burning heart full of love,
pain and lust, as the vessels sail on,
away far the boats are gone, beneath hashem's eyes

did he love, some will say, in deed he love,
and that is all, beneath the shallow halls
of love and lust i'm still alone in this ******* cold,
empty thoughts and lover soul's, is full by pain and lost
behind the eyes of a poets soul, is the abysmal truth
in the poets clothes, lust is nothing with out the love,
empty and vain, as a tick drinking flames of dragons yawns.


in the darkest of all hours i fell the pain of being alone,
no shame nor remorse, only the coldness, of being not,
a poets truth is on his soul, lucid thoughts in dark rooms,
and lost is not  a part of the all, the strings connect us all,
even the creepy lost, are part of us all, with o with out the soul,
but never he could stain my soul, beneath the shallow walls of
lust and love, some are lost, and alone, is a cold world, for the one with soul, evolved and ready for all, sill the soulless ones are looking for love and lust, even in shallow hall, their trying to be loved in return,

in the hour of lust and love, still the head need to be lost,
cause the pain was bigger then the love, even then i knew
one day i will going to love or try to, do,
i never be but alone, still can smell the sweetness,
of the lady's love, and make them feel adored,
and wanted, but still the head need to be lost,
the hours of pain are still near the bed,
looking as a drag remorse, or a foul lust taken by force,
or stolen in sleep, still the stains of ****** ****'s,
pollute what once  was full of love.

now is all full of lust and pain, never the soul
or the pain, take of nothing but shame,
of this poet's soul.
that even after the rapes, or  games
of creepy shames, lose the head or let the shame
direct my game, what once was stained, some will wash,
with love and lust, and honey tears, will take the stains
and love the flames in the poets heart.

nor shame nor remorse, just the truth and the flames,
never the blame will command my flames or foul my name,
connected are the strains of us all, as a mouse, as a lion
she will never pollute my name, or her shame will be minor,
the children s blood in her scent pollute the air,
and her bleeding hands are a ******* disgrace.

still the pain was washed away,
and the heart break was healed, after
all those years in pain, living in poets hell,
decadence as a way of life, despair and pain
***** my second and third name, now i'm clean
alive and well thoroughly clean is the soul of this,
project of man, sane and plain,

the darkest hours pass and where gone
alone and free, simple, smelling some
Madeleine in the sweet morning air,
the loner past, is gone with her lying eyes,
away i sail in this vessel, away the port, looking
for clean air, a woman with soul,
and this loving flame called poetry.
Madison Apr 2019
I don't know you, --
That's the cold, sad fact, --
And most days
I suspect there isn't much to know.

I know this
Because I know how it feels to love you.

Because loving you
Is like looking out the window
Into the street
When it's far too late
And even the hoodlums are asleep.
Loving you
Is like looking into the street
At midnight
When everyone's asleep
And it isn't raining.
The wind just blows uselessly
Rustling leaves
Reminding you that you can still breathe.

Loving you
Is like looking out the window at midnight
And walking away
Only feeling that you need to go to sleep
Because all the world around you seems dead.

Because loving you
Is like watching a show
Where all the actors have perfected their craft
And love to wear masks.
Loving you
Is like going to watch a show
That you know you've seen a million times.
The actors could convince you that they were working themselves to the very bone
And all you'd want
Is to doze off in the theater's cushioned velvet seats.

Loving you
Is like seeing a play
That's so ****** familiar
It makes you sick to think of watching it again
And yet
You'll never know how it feels
To watch it from backstage --
Not that you'd ever want to.

Because loving you
Is like loving the void, --
A black hole, that sits and swallows up everything
At your dinner table.
You'll say that you hate it
Curse its name as it ***** up
Your beef roast
Your silverware
Your fine china
Begging for dessert
Just before it latches on to your arm.
But deep down, you know
You'll just keep feeding it
Mindlessly tossing useless solutions in its direction
To satiate its beastly appetite.

You'll hurl things at it
With ferocious anger
Sneer
At its revolting belch.
"Don't ask me for anything else," you'll mumble as you skulk away
Only to press the reset button
And start setting the table
For the next day.

But I'll never think any of these things
Because loving you
Is looking as deep as you can
And finding...
Nothing.
Nothing!
Nothing...

Truly
Loving you
Is like loving a black hole.
I'm done writing about what doesn't matter.

Enjoy the truth
Maddie Bukowsky Jun 2012
Loving you is like a dream, I don't even know if it's real.
Loving you is like a choice, to display how I really feel.
Loving you is like a game, fighting so we will not lose.
Loving you is like a contest, I'm clueless as to who you will choose.
Loving you is like a rainstorm, certain days it will be bittersweet.
Loving you is like a test, and how tempting it may be to cheat.
Loving you is like a band-aid, repairing the awful bleed.
Loving you is oh so easy, because you are all I need.
Kareena Burdine Oct 2012
I can't do this anymore
I've got to stop loving you.
I can't be this sad anymore
I've got to stop loving you
I can't pretend to smile anymore
I've got to story loving you.
I can't pretend like I'm joking anymore
I've got to stop loving you.
I can't act like I don't care anymore
I've got to stop loving you
I can't want to make love to you anymore
I've got to stop loving you.
I can't get excited and be let down anymore
I've got to stop loving you.
I can't want you to love me anymore
Ive got to stop loving you.
I can't love you anymore
I've got to stop loving you.
I can't write sweet poems about you anymore
I've got to stop loving you.
ceruleanveins Oct 2013
loving you

was like self-mutilation



loving you

was like how a high school girl

first picked up the blade

and prayed for the courage

to drag it across her skin



loving you

was like how a dancer

bent over the toilet

to regurgitate back

what she had eaten

for dinner

in secret



loving you

was like sneaking out of my house

thrilled

hoping not to get caught



loving you

was like discovering the entire universe

not knowing

that there isn’t air

in this vacuum



loving you

was like a old man

gasping for breaths in between

before his death bed



loving you

was like catching a glimpse

of how the world is



loving you

is both

exciting

aphrodisiac

hurting

hopeless

— The End —