Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Lady ꓘ Aug 2017
Place your bets
Monogamy is dead
We must wager the people who
We've groomed to love us
After all, we've invested some time in
preparing them for this race
And my money is placed in the
uncertain outcome
My love is divided equally among them
But I've got my eye on the newest horse
to pick up the pace

Place your bets
Love is dead
I've pledged my attention to them
Until they no longer look like a good bet
And I retire my loyal horse
I forfeit it's outcome
After all, love is a competition for me
And I will continue to stake my money
on the newest horse to gamble
Johnny Noiπ Aug 2018
I had a gf that used to get called a feminazi,
but no one ever called me a feminanarchist;
I think what we really were is Feminihilists.

FFP opposed *******,
defined as the sexualized degradation,
*******, humiliation, objectification,
subjugation, violation,       psychological
annihilation, exploitation,  & violence
against women as distinguished from
erotica based on the mutuality
      of power and pleasure.

According to FFP's pioneering founder Page Mellish,
******* provides the training for ******,
assault & ****; results in the objectification
of women; affects women's ability to get equal rights
& equal pay, & encourages men to associate
*** with violence;  Page ultimately claimed
that all feminist issues | [    ,      ], [          ]
are rooted in *******
&   in a 1986 letter to the editor of The Wall Street Journal,
she asserted that FFP is "not against love & not against ***."

Page held that all men or women
who did not fight against *******
were accountable for the violence
against women, claiming that women
who enjoy ******* or rough ***
had internalized the male [gaze] & |
male definitions of power

Page's positions on *******
have been debated outside FFP,
including with respect to ****'s agency
on crime & feminist & gay definitions of ****;
Legislation alone was not a solution,
according to Page; it was also necessary to remove "the need for ****".

vehemently anti-censorship & pro-***,
Page taught me to show everything from
all sides; my other feminista professors
were pro-monogamy [patriarchy] while
Page was a combat boot wearing girly-girl;

she had these cute little doe-eyed Q's following
her around carrying the placards [        ] for her
spontaneous demonstrations against underwear
Nathan Young Oct 2015
You have boys breaking all kinds of tender hearts
and you have hoes cheating on loyal men.
I try to make sense of this world and these 'customs,'
yet I seem to be lost on square one over and over again.

Living in this day and age is a constant game of cat and mouse,
filled with deceit, mistrust, and no respect.
What the hell happened to an unfaltering love for monogamy?
You walking scandals, tell me what the mirror'll reflect.

With all these social distortions we're afflicted with,
it's hard to tell where you fit in the spectrum.
You say cheating is simply a black and white absolute, so
in that moment, are you going to be the victim or the venom?

Paranoia thus is born and all that you worked hard for
seems to just dissipate, and you can't cope with your spouse.
Media *** scandals reinforce distrust to loved ones,
the heart is no longer a home, but just another empty house.

This is how the younger generation lives,
constant fear what could happen and they close all doors,
you're either hurting or will be hurt,
so you steel your heart since all you see are ******.
Butch Decatoria Jan 2017
The last romantic...

Briefly departs his Shakespeare

Pages serenading sublimity

Juxtaposing the beauty of the stars

To the abyssal depth in lover's eyes

Lost in sonnet sunset

And the pentameter of lonesome sighs...

His heart must surely be a fish

Lovelorn wanting such oceans of wish.

To feel alive from being torn

Into madness A tumultuous storm....

The last romantic far from paths

And roads leading home,

Far from metropole and reality

In solitude a garden gnome...

Deformed from lack of society's

Influential propriety

Of hurry get married, of monogamy,

Grooms bride for every norm...but no.

Oh how aloof and naively blind

Dismissing the tutors' lessons in mundane life

The logic of lovelife like reasoning

These days of mail order brides,

Milfs and Latin ***** seasonings,

Are now for bid to buy (at auction price)

How is this decency or poetic

The Geometry of a fit sound mind?

(High on cloud nine, in line for a hookers time?)

Oh dear King Lear, what's happened here?

Sign of our times slow demise

Yet no one questions such schisms

Or ask why?

The illness of the romantic was once floral

It sickens with sweetness and aww

A dreamers pox deluded flight

Psychedelic was the high

(just stop all that effing rhyme time)



Perhaps it's self inflicted

Conditioned poetic days

To view all the world with love

Fauning eyes awake

Maybe in his idolatry of medieval adultery

There is a sort of peace

Of mind, of truth

Maybe accidentally it is found

Far from the madness of the heartless,

Mindless Crowds

Murdering muse and moody blues

By the numbers we color refuse and defuse

These digital days that pass in fog

Diminished worth

From fears' poison smog,

An unlived unloved life askew

Dead to chances made aloud

Tho' The perfect time is now...


Perhaps the last romantic chooses to go without

Shedding a painful tear

Detours introverted meekly feels

Avoiding any meaningful kiss

With every passion

petite mort...             a tiny death my dears

Some cannot handle such tragedy

Star crossed youth I hear are

                     All fools for love

And Still will / surely must

Die hard

Whether from wounds of doubts

Drowning in Lies of ties that bind...

Yet true love with imperfect hearts

Revere

Our Immortal beloveds

And the last romantic

Near or far away from here

Romancing whispers

Oh the lovely

Untouched years

                    Heavy as a hollow bone

Broken in perpetual wish,

His alone

A soul yet to atone a life of fear

Bewitched by drama's

*Magic Shakespeare.
Reece Jun 2013
It was well trained cats in the cattery calling, pats on the back, back door, kicked in, mooring boats on the mooring in the morning and the phone call, cost cut, cold calling, and we're falling, falling, we're falling in love.

My best friends are criminals, and the jail cell crying is trying at times but trying sometimes feels tiring. The tire track tiling is abysmal, freewheeling in reverie, revving engines readily, sitting, settling and stirring imaginary cups of tea until eternity gives up delinquently.

I fail to recognise the narcissist in me until the inadequate rantings fall of the page at me. I want to be free, I want to be me, I want solidarity and I want that cup of tea, I want patriarchy, I want matrimony, I want monogamy and none of this is hyperbole. I have no apologies, especially not for the words I string together so irrationally. What else could you ask of me?
What else indeed, if I can't be naked I can't be free, if I alter the way I write I relinquish personality.
It doesn't seem right to me.
Dada is too crass for me, I need a cult of spontaneity. The English language is too brash to be...

Philosophical ideology and the books I read, all tell lies to me, are all absurd you see, I embrace the monotony, let the waves of the sea wash over me. I let the dictionary pages fall off the quay, like that moth on me, like the sloth i've been and cloth on screens. A dead dog can't scratch it's fleas, but to appease the beast we must first release, all creativity and return to being.
Jody Feb 2018
Please don't pity me because I am single
I enjoy life, get out, play hard and mingle
Soul mates will meet when the timing is right
For now, I'll do me so the future looks bright.

Being alone is not making me pensive
It's opened my eyes something extensive
I'd rather see love than have it myself
Seeing you thrive is good for my health.

I see all your posts of how happy they make you
Of bad and good and of all you have been through
Of how they are faithful and loyal to the end
Of being being a lover and also a friend.

Being single has not brought me sadness
I'm seeing love thrive in a world filled with madness.
To me that is beautiful and that's that all I need
As long as love lives, my sorrow is freed.

What does bring me sorrow are all these **** cheaters.
These liars, scumbags, and f** spouse beaters.
It's ignorant, and no it is not the human condition
It's going on too much and needs decommission.

To all the boys sending ladies pics of your ****
If you're trying to get any, that's going about it all wrong.
Sure some are into it but, they'll say if it's true
That's not how men act, what's the matter with you?

Spreading love is my purpose, I can't let it die
My heart beats as long as true love is alive
You can call me a wimp, or call me a hippie
I really don't care, so don't get all lippy.

This is for everyone who is in love or inquiring
Your love is amazing and I find it inspiring.
Let's get rid of the habits that have diluted it's beauty
Love is resplendent, and to protect it's our duty.

Please don't think I get sad when I see you're in love
Wishing for someone is not what I think of
True love persists, and for that I am grateful
Please keep love alive and away from the hateful.

Some call it all fake or just a chemical reaction
But what brought it on? It's not just from attraction.
Monogamy's not necessary to survival of species
It helps with procreation but, it's also our Achilles.

Our minds evolved love because we aren't human without it.
It's from the soul, if you never felt it don't try to doubt it.
Don't hate on love, it has the best of intentions
It just wants to grow and spread it's affections.

And for now I'll do me so the future looks bright
I'll find my true love when the timing is right.
Keep this in mind as we mix and we mingle
Please don't pity me because I am single.
With Valentine's day recently I have been seeing a lot of couples talking about how happy they are and how they feel bad I don't have anyone. I wrote this to try and show I could care less if I have somebody I love seeing love not just being in love. Thank you.
Sarina Aug 2013
I wonder
would it help, could I fix us if I just turned the lights down
and we drown in our former selves
have *** with each other
and ourselves -

the
relationship worked better when there was more
than just the two of us.
I am sorry that all my poems are about infidelity, ha ha
Accursed from their birth they be
  Who seek to find monogamy,
Pursuing it from bed to bed--
  I think they would be better dead.
RIGAAL Aug 2010
Civilization is founded upon one-dimensional thinking: monotheism, monoculture, monogamy, monopoly, monotony, mono mono mono... one day soon i'll quit my job, throw away my phone and steal really cool, expensive 3D glasses. After all, eyelids are the only thing barricading our dreams from reality.
Michal Shilor Jan 2014
my polygamous relationship with you distances me from the monotony of monogamy and makes me feel lonelier than the loneliest mundane monogamist. my mere apologies for my misendeavors, the malnutritious morals of my miseducation propose metal mirrors and castaways controlled by cutting carvers, craving crazy letters and loyalty from lengthy lies and lonely lives. lethargy overtakes and vowels reign, raining drops like rainbows and rocks in rivers, rusting relationships, rusty railroads at intense intersections entwined in everything inside and nothing on the outside anymore except these
muscles. we are back at the beginning.

my mind marvels in the magic of the memories, the madness of the morbidity and the hesitations of your reaction. his, I take, is misunderstood as my misfortune, but it is not a miss, my fortune: it is a fox in feathers colorful like friendships 'fore their forfeited and feigned approval, forced for fear of polygamy tho' it promises the purest pleasure, the most personal independence and precious pearls of princes, princesses, powerful, plight-less

poetry.  peace surrenders,

souls surprise themselves, surprise their cells, call for curious catastrophes to take place. colorful and calm they coincide with cooperation that can not contain the context of truth, of teases, of teasers and targets and tonal dualities and we endeavor, we endear you, we dare destroy the darkness of the devil in its disguised diamonds.

words lie at my feet like pebbles of poetry and I promise personal demise, deterioration and ridiculous obsessions- there's madness to be had and fragments to be written and I play with silly alliteration instead!

serious and serene you stare as if my sanity has slowly faded and I sternly helplessly smile shyly.  I suppose you are sincerely offering me your blessing before parting, so stumbling slightly I surrender…


if this is the prevailing promise of mere mortality, I'm graciously aware I was worthy of words.
Carmelo Antone Apr 2012
Awaking to tangle toes and sunlight woes,
Noticing the lines of light slipping through the blinds of my bedroom window,
Outlining the voluptuous beauty I met the night before,

Our angled shoulders showed us how far we were willing to go,
How close it took for us to see that this was more than just barstool’s hello,  

Though before we settled the score,
I just wanted to be the bartender’s chore,
I didn’t know what to think when we found a catacomb of salvation within sheets once used for,
Covering those I use to bring home,
Those without self control,

Already in the lead after awakening to a morning of migraines and meaning
I’m about to see you to the bottom of a bottle and its only 10:15

Forgetting my chivalry for a chance to defy their chastity
What are positives of monogamy?
What is the probability that this will unfold into anything more
Besides a need to fill a void, to humanly heal  

It’s is time see if this more than just a physical dependency we both adore.
This poem can also be found on mantone.net
Ree Bunch Apr 2016
(Years) * (girl + boy)= Friendship

(Crush)(crush)(friendship)= Lovers

(Lovers + commitment) / Monogamy = A relationship

(Relationship – trust) * (mendaciousness) = Fallible liaison

(Fallible liaison) * (# of years) / My heart =  Wasted time and regret

**But math nor relationships were EVER your strong suit.
Mendaciousness = habitually telling lies
Fallible =liable to err
David Ehrgott Dec 2015
No monophonic masterpiece
Sung on a monorail
In monotone with MSG
That's monosodium glutamate
I say that monotonously
A monoplane monopoly
A monomaniac with monomania
A monocle for monoculars
A monograph of monogamy
Monocetyledons- plants with single seeds
A monolith that's monogramed and monochromatic
You know the monosyllable of monotheism as fact
There is no monomial for mononucleosis
Are eggs mononuclear?
Monoxide just sounds dangerous
I have a monolingual term for mono
It's bad so please don't catch it
ZorbatheGeek Dec 2014
how does one
just pick a flower
from a full bloom

how does one like
just one thing
of this divine spring

love every flower
say the bird and the bee
this is nature. no monogamy
[In which Aphrodite ponders monogamy, 21st century style]


She’d come far since that whole Botticelli scandal,

astride a shell, hair tumbled about her ******,  

sensuality and a taste for illicit thrill (a real wild myth)

but now the candid canvas only required a google by the Book Club’s prying judgment,

she’d since traded Olympus for a semi-detached.  


All his shirts were folded, perfectly pressed,

ham and chips congealing by the microwave  

and he should have been back before Hollyoaks.  

They met in their local, he bought her a pint and mused

over Milton of all people, his degree finally put to use,

justifying the ways of God to men.  

Impressed and tipsy his back was soon against the wall, no tricks needed.  


He kissed all over her divinity,  

admired the quote encircling her ankle, from a trip round Asia

to find herself, at age nine thousand and nineteen.  

As they made love a spell fell on her for once in a millennia

Married in months, too young, well he was,  

and her face had always been twenty-two.  

Then came the mortgage, the Labrador, the kids, the affairs.  


At the bottom of a wine glass she pondered on the irony

after all what was the point of an eternity weaving passion into the world  

with your husband’s ‘lunch meetings’ equating to rolls on Travelodge sheets?

Not her style at all, too tacky.  

She could work her charms, make everything rose-tinted,  

but the bitterness intoxicated.


On the sofa, her side, she dwelled again on Botticelli,  

spilling her beauty on a page,

passion and dexterity, a lost breed- this century was so unpromising.  

Aphrodite thought on her conquests- Ares, Poseidon, Adonis

gods between her thighs, making her mountains move,  

oceans boiling madly, bruised skies crackling with fire,  

tangled bedsheets,  

hair,

hands caressing skin and creating worlds, and…


…and on her mortal, a balding, a boring, a bland  

disappointment.


Off came the clothes, the wedding ring and the phone from its hook.  


Imagine the pizza boy’s confusion as the door opened to the sound of the heavens singing  

rays of ethereal light warming his pubescent, pock-scarred face.  

A naked, pearly goddess,

and those golden, flaxen locks snaking, seducing, ensnaring as he staggered into the rosy blur.


It was impossible, after all, to justify the ways of gods to men.  


But how clichéd.
theinsatiate Jul 2013
"monogamy or whatever you call it- i'm starting to think it ain't for everybody."*

with our hearts locked up in a far away land,
alas! we open our legs and our mouths.
not to the gifted and the loved,
but the exotic and peculiar.

lost in translation,
we believe that we become whole through experience.
in the back of our mind knowing,
we are more lost than ever.

inch by inch,
as we gnaw at genitalia,
to 'satisfy' our pangs.
we continually tear,
bits and pieces of our hearts,
pushing them into various blackholes,
in the abyss we call our mind.

in various beds, floors, couches, showers,
we bare our bodies naked.
in ritual,
we search for love and our hearts,
not realizing that it's at arms length.
inspired by Wale ft. Rihanna- Bad
Bailey Crawford Jun 2014
I've never lied to you before, so I promise you I won't start now. You and I, we're one of the same. Human beings, creatures that have feelings, people. I looked you in the eyes once saying, "you deserve the best". It's only taken me 17 years of my life, a year and a half of knowing you to realize I deserve the best too. See you and I, we have different best, our best is what we think we deserve. My best is someone holding my hand, leaving flowers at my doorstep, calling me asking me how my day was. My best is a friendship type of love. My best is monogamy. My best is not you. Darling, sweetheart, pumpkin, baby, boo your best is a white trash ***. Your best is getting cheated on day after day, your best is the lies. Your best is a fourteen year old who can't keep her legs close. Your best is getting pressured to have *** then winding up behind bars. Everyday I am thankful you told me we would never work out. We could never work because I am a 17 year old ****** and proud. Because I love myself more than I love the thought of being in love. Because I would never throw you away just to prove that I can. I will never be a girl who settles for anything of than the best because you taught me not to.
My first poem on here titled Dear Snowman and this poem are written about the same person.
R A Lee Jan 2016
Intertwining limbs....one, two, three hearts beating as one
laughing and gasping, dying for air, but never feeling more alive
they take in the moment, tasting skin so sweet
monogamy will never feel this way
monogamy will never know love like this, will never know lust like this.
A Simillacrum May 2018
Look at what your love made.
Sharing space with you.
It made me disconnect.
The greater I long for you.
The farther from me you get.

You said you love me truly.
I doubt now you felt that.
Years and years they etch in stone.
The water under the bridge.
Has worn away your act.

You love me or You need me.
Separate the line.
The fire you ignite in me.
Now burns me alive.
Abby Carpenter Jul 2016
I said I didn't want you
but it still hurt when you left
I saw you for what you are
I thought you could never be tied down

But I see you with her
tied around her wrist like a ribbon
and I knew that I had made a mistake
I doubted you and for that I am sorry
I'm sorry that I pushed you away
pushed you into her arms
I'm sorry that your smile is for her now

Logically I know that I made the right choice
we would never have worked
I'm to heavy with the wait of monogamy
and you, to light, care free

I just didn't think your moving on would have hurt this much
L A Lamb Sep 2014
Friday, August 01, 2014, Buttes-Chaumont Parc, Paris, France.



Why do I need feminism? We all have our reasons. We all have our stories. Let me tell you about my day:



I was sitting on a hill in the grass at Buttes-Chaumont park, a lovely historical area in Paris. I wanted to be relatively by myself so I could write in peace and smoke without drawing attention to myself. I’m sitting, book in my lap, a pen and cig between my fingers, when I am approached by a man. My main concern was determining whether or not he was the po-lice, but he had no characteristics of cops. He appeared emotionally stable and had good hygiene so I wasn’t too uncertain, (isn’t it kind of bad how we judge people on that stuff?), still, I wondered what he wanted, dreading having to talk to someone when I was merely trying to write in peace. I figured he was going to ask me for something to smoke.



He didn’t. Instead, he asked if he could sit by me. I look around and scan all the other vacant spaces he could sit instead, making it obvious that there was plenty of room to sit instead of right the **** next to me. It’s a pretty big park. “Si ca ta derange pas?” I wasn’t planning on staying long anyway, but I knew he wouldn’t be dangerous as there were many families and couples and runners and walkers, old friends and young kids playing. I felt safe enough, and he seemed harmless. I figured if anything, I could practice my French, which was always nice.



I said okay. He sat, and for a moment we sat in silence. I made myself a sandwich with baguette and cheese and offered him some. He politely declined. We started talking.



I asked if he was Parisian, and he told me he lived there for a while but was from Afrique. I didn’t catch which country, but I don’t think he specified which region. He asked about me, and I told him I was American, born in DC, but I came to France every so often and it was my first language. We talked about travel. We talked about the chaos in the Middle East, and how it was prophesized in scripture. He told me he was Muslim. I told him I wasn’t religious.



I told him I acknowledged the importance of texts, but I believe our ability to think has evolved in 2000 years and we have more information now than we did then. I told him there was too much life and I could not fit it all into one magic being which sprinkled glitter and said “Let there be” and we were created. I told him I really liked the Asian philosophies of Buddhism and Daoism. We talked about peace. We talked about Human Rights and the beauty of diversity, and how marvelous it was people could live among another in peace.



I said it was cool, and I even said it was cool that even as a black man in Europe and an Arab-American woman, we could talk freely without hostility and social division. We talked about closed-mindedness and Conservativism. I explained cognitive dissonance contributing to conflict, generated by opposing views and resistance/reluctance to consider new ideas. We talked about Psychology. I told him I was a writer and I told him about Cabaret Populaire in Belleville and the poetry community in Paris. I told him I love Paris. We talked again about travel.



He told me he was in Germany last weekend, and I told him I was in Langen Tuesday night. He told me he always wanted to go to the U.S.A. We talked about immigration. We talked about the American Dream. We talked about money. I told him I was proposed to the last time I was in Lebanon. We talked about reasons people marry. I reminded him today was the first of August, which meant I’d been with my boyfriend for two months. We talked about love. We talked about monogamy, polyamory and infidelity. We talked about Islam. We talked about racism.



We were sitting there talking for an hour or so, which I was especially grateful for, because besides having an interesting conversation I was able to speak in French for all of it, as he did not speak English (apparently he spoke German, though). I stood up to leave and told him “Enchanté,” but before I started walking off he motioned for me to look at his phone. I was wondering if he was trying to add me on Facebook or follow me on Instagram or something, but I am instead confronted by a picture on his screen of him laying on his back on a bed, with an ***** ***** as the focal point.



Furious, I asked him “Pourquoi tu ma montre ca?! J’ai pas demande a voir ca!”



The stupid smile on his face disappeared and was replaced by a look of slight hurt, confusion, and surprise.

“Bordelle! C’est dommage—mais c’est ca—des hommes et femmes ne peuvent pas parler normalment, vraiment!”



And for the vile words I wanted to spout, I scoffed instead, too much of a lady to shout or get emotional, but I made sure to call him out and stand my ground, exuding negative energy and making it clear with my few words that that was not okay.



I gave no impression of interest in seeing his ****, so why did he do that? Even if he thought I might want to (hell never) he should have heard me ask or vocally say “yes, you can do that.” However, I did not ask; there were no prompts, hints, innuendos or even suggestive, flirty phrasing that would serve as an indication of ****** interest on my behalf.



I don’t want to be cynical and assume all guys are perverts and avoid any conversation because I’m not a rude person (generally). I’m not sexist. I value conversations and friendships with people without emphasis of gender importance. I try not to assume that everyone is sketchy or has ****** up motives. Some people just want to talk.



I wasn’t going to blatantly ignore or dismiss him because he was a man, nor because he was black, foreign, or Muslim. But where the hell is he from that he was socialized and thought that was appropriate or wanted?

I did not ask. The worst part is that he seemed like a genuinely alright person, but then he had to ruin it by whipping out a **** pic. Gross. What’s even more gross is the sense of entitlement he had, thinking it was acceptable to do that. You are a stranger. And I don’t want to see your ******, you disgusting *******.



I really don’t like assuming **** about people or making generalizations. I’m not going to assimilate one ****** with every group they are assigned to and stereotype against every person of that respective group. But fuckkkk. It’s annoying and disappointing that what I thought was a pleasant talk and exchange of ideas with a friendly stranger was actually a plot to show me his ****. ****.



The moral of this story is to say why feminism is needed, because this happens to people every day. If you still need further assistance understanding, please allow me to elaborate:



1)      I need feminism because it allows me to stand up for myself and feel confident about stating that I’m uncomfortable with unwanted behaviors and I’m not going to tolerate them.



These behaviors include, but are not limited to:



1)      Showing me **** pics

2)      Assuming it’s okay to show a girl you met not even an hour ago a **** pic (Do not even say it’s because of a culture difference, because I know of Frenchies who don’t do that)

3)      Approaching me because I’m sitting alone (I accepted that because I assumed he wasn’t going to violate my mind like that (good thing I don’t have photographic memory) but I didn’t wave over and say “Hey, you look friendly! Come over and talk to me!”)

4)      Asking me how serious things are with my boyfriend

5)      Asking me about my bisexuality—only to invalidate it

6)      Assigning me behavior expectations because of my gender

7)      Trying to control the way I do or do not reproduce

8)      Expecting me to behave a certain way because of my sexuality

9)      Judging me based on my sexuality

10)  Openly discriminating against people and expecting me to be okay with prejudice

11)  Using racist terms… because you’re a racist

12)  Dehumanizing the oppressed





Because I don’t know what you studied about it (wait—most people who disagree with feminism haven’t and are completely misinformed) but:



Feminism is about equality, and it doesn’t feel very equal when I show someone respect but I get no respect in return. And if you associate feminism with fauxminism and misandry, please educate yourself. (If I had Tumblr still, you better believe I would’ve already posted this). To quote the great words of Jay in Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back: "Remember, don’t whip your **** out unless she asks."
Jay Oct 2019
I have not given up on love,
But how I love unsettles many,
The girl I am scares most.

I am the girl who can love someone after a couple days.
I am the girl who can love more than one at a time.
I am the girl who shows more love than some have ever received.
I am the girl who jumps back and forth, because this world is taught monogamy is the only way.
I am the girl who loves those that people think I should not.
I am the girl who makes people jealous by accident, because I give out so much affection.
I am the girl who has hurt people with my love.
I am the girl who holds onto love even if it's toxic.
I am the girl who chases love.
I am the girl who wants to make everyone feel loved.
I am the girl who wants forever with everyone I love.
I am the girl who will give everything to everyone.
I am the girl who is reckless when it comes to her heart.
I am the girl who makes promises about love.
I am the girl who breaks her own heart, but keeps on loving anyways.
I am the girl whose heart people want all to themselves, but that, I can rarely provide.
I am the girl that people want in their bed, but I don't understand why.
I am the girl that isn't safe with her heart.
I am the girl that freely gives her heart away.

Is it safe,
To be this way?
It's likely that it is not,
But I say risks were made to take.
If only I could create a masterpiece of a man.
I'm stuck with small remnants of what I want from the past, but I want them all and more.
I'd make him perfect.
We'd be best friends like me and D
He'd be overprotective like E
My same like J
Oh we'd be the happiest in town
Always stealing kisses that you never wanted to end
Holding hands because that's what they're meant for
Ending the day laying in each others arms
He'd please me in every way
Knowing and owning my body like J
But devouring like D
Just to ensure I was fulfilled in all ways
We'd share honesty, monogamy, trust,
We'd share our bodies
Our hearts would be one
Yes, he'd be my masterpiece.
He'd be only for me. Mine.
I'd make him beautiful.
Who seek to find monogamy,
Pursuing it from bed to bed--
I think they would be better dead."
hkr Feb 2015
stiff from lack of sleep
i dream of monogamy
and all the pretty little things
i'm meant to dream of
(but never do)

massage my shoulder blades
and i'll take flight
is it possible to run on negative hours of sleep
Liam Jun 2013
tempestuous heartache
   & sundried tears
exhaled whispers
   & combustible caresses

unilateral monogamy
   & bipolar love
singular sensations
   & conjoined sensuality

degrading hopelessness
   & elevated vulnerability
decelerated time
   & soaring spirituality
Morgan Brady Aug 2014
Hi my name is Cardiomyopathy.
I'm 2 years old and I've already had 3 miscarriages.
A run in with alcohol abuse, drug abuse, my noose apparent.

Loose and daring met cruel and caring,
They used to laugh now but cry later loved sharing.
So much for monogamy. Did I mention my name is Cardiomyopathy?
I'm 2 years old with a mild case of marital affairs gone wrong. My mind used to tell me this house is no home.
Careless.
I played dodge ball in a glass house with stones.
Broken.
No real insurance, the love that ensured this.
Was gone.

Every piece of male that she opened, she failed...To pay attention.

Homeless and senseless.

Hopeless romantic my alias. Cardiomyopathy my condition.
Medicated dedication to relieve side effects called intuition.
Treatment unknown and remains at the throne of my wish list.

I'm only two years old. With the stress of a twenty two year cold. Lovely fevers that shake bones that create moans of twisted passion.
My addiction had grown afflicted with my stress and cold madness.

Ah-choo! to be cold Adieu to meek moans.

In retrospect. Mistress was a side downer fueled by sadness, so this cold could live long and wreak havoc; As long as it numbed me.
Recovery at my fingertips and once I'm healthy and bubbly,
The realization that will **** me will be the fact that haunts me...

You never loved me.

I choose to be cold.

My name is Cardiomyopathy. I'm only 2 years old.

— The End —