"possessive" poems
Do you mind if I sit back and observe the process of the lords creation the subject matter is miraculous the beauty is elegant perfect in every scence my baby girl you stole my heart such a thief ain't you, thinking about seductive things we do sinners ain't we, naughty deeds but the intentions is good it serves needs
What pains me is that I have to let go to regrip your sparkling eyes again, got to move fast so quick that I don't miss the chance to clutch you in my arms again, heaven sent such a gift I cried when you was born I ain't even know you back then because, GOD made you for me I picked up your scent, I know from day one you was mine let us age old together bad and boujee like expensive fine wine, my kiss is possessive the beat of your heart is mine let that foreplay tingle down your spine, open wide going deep let me reach your soul ****** our achievement together it ain't *** it's love
I love you girl no *** postion that can top this deposition let me show you its deeper than *** I'm still into you watch me shift working overtime full time love baby moan out affection go on say the name, our body hum harmony can feel this body heat that steamy love, open wide in deep that creamy love that dreamy love, its deeper than *** the agony an orgams of how our love make our body shiver, I love you, I love you! I rejoice I could say this a thousand times it's deeper than ***
Aug 28, 2018
Aug 28, 2018 at 1:13 AM UTC
Everyone talks about depression as if they know it.
But what they don’t know is that depression is a hooded figure standing just outside of a wooden doorway,
it’s feeling the blood dripping down your skin and having the sick thought of “Oh, look how beautiful the red is” (they always say red is my color).
Depression is lying on your bed for hours on end, salt tracks lining your face like the scars on your ankles, staring at your ceiling tracing patterns in the paint and accepting death in life with this hole in your chest because death is a reward, an escape from this pain you deserve to feel.
Depression is writing sick poetry on skin and publishing it with scars, cutting on ankles, not wrists because you’re scared you’ll get in trouble but you so desperately need to be seen, and never are.
Depression is writing the word “alone” and seeing the word “home”, accepting the pain like a gift because you deserve it.
Depression is admitting suicidal thoughts to paper and not to people, and loving the broken things, hoping to tie them together, thinking maybe things will get better, but knowing that’s just wishful thinking.
Depression is hearing your mother call you monster and disgusting through the too-thin walls of your door when she thinks you can’t hear, and then telling you to your face that you have no right to cry, as if sadness is a privilege and you’re so pathetic that you don’t deserve it.
Depression is shutting yourself up in your room and hearing your family laughing downstairs because you feel like you can’t be a part of them and learning at a young age to love family always but that family isn’t always love
Depression is wanting to take love and your heart and break them into tiny little pieces and throw them into waves, to throw them away
Depression is a foot when the shoe hasn’t been broken in yet, is you when you haven’t broken life in, is seeing happy people and thinking they all look the same, like the front covers of magazines with smiles reaching their eyes when yours can’t.
Depression is wishing you could package your smiles into tiny little piles and hand them to people more deserving of them because you know you’re wasting them with half-assed lines of “I’m fine”
Depression is having to view your past as if it wasn’t yours, because to accept it as reality is to accept finality of your life through suicide.
Depression is a hooded figure standing just outside of a wooden doorway and when you close the door out of fear it keeps pounding, possessive, ****** and when you open the door out of anger you shout, “I’M SCARED” to thin air but your voice comes out as a whisper.
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 8:34 PM UTC
I couldn’t be around you without feeling
as if my world was crashing down.
Twice I walked away but you kept
holding onto me.
Your love dominating,
controlling, and reckless.
For us both ‘WE’ became an addiction.
Our physical connection creating a real
emotional entanglement.
The intimacy escalated not with your love
and respect rather with your insatiable ******
desires and deceit.
You came closer to me than anyone ever had.
To say that we were totally engaged,
consumed with each other would gravely understate
what you did not only to my body, but also to my soul.
It was a crazy love.
When your presence met mine.
I’d forgotten the meaning of peace of mind.
Self-respect had flown away,
integrity fallen by the wayside.
I didn’t know who I was with you.
I didn’t know who I was without you.
Yet, I couldn’t leave…
Even though deep in my unconscious
I knew 'WE' were wrong.
My addiction wouldn’t let me go,
your addiction wouldn't let me go.
And I stayed…
Your behavior came so close to crushing my spirit,
my will to live.
In your compulsion to protect your deception
you abandoned me,
my life hanging on by a thread, I could not sleep or eat,
I could not breathe.
It was like being in a coma that I was fighting to survive.
With intensive professional help
I was forced out of the coma.
I survived.
Now I see
I stayed, not because I loved you
I stayed because I didn’t love me.
Passion kept me bound.
Truth be told, to be totally honest
I stayed out of fear, fear of missing the passion.
But now I know I’d rather be alone… than
shackled by the anguish and drama you swore was love.
As the synapses of my brain reconnect,
the evidence of controlling emotional abuse,
of possessive manipulation, overwhelms my mind and body.
I see now I wasn’t built, wasn’t ready to understand
your type of love.
I can’t deal, can’t bear, don’t deserve,
your emotional betrayal and abuse.
I have kept your secret for you to tell.
A secret I will never betray.
Now no longer together
locked in by your silence,
perpetuating the manipulation,
forever destined in your secret,
your abuse continues.
Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 2:23 PM UTC
Sorry
For texting you, for bugging you,
for annoying you.
for thinking of you day and night.
by being clingy and possessive.
for staying by your side every time you push me away.
Sorry I get worried about you.
for needing your attention,
for being needy to you.
Sorry for loving you.
I'm very sorry... I can't unlove you.
Nov 27, 2015
Nov 27, 2015 at 5:58 PM UTC
I never had a best friend in my life till I met you,
All I had were normal friends who were not close.
The most genuine friend I have is none other than you,
I consider it lucky that me as a best friend you chose.
Now I won't ever disappoint you, my friend,
I am learning youthful ways from you now,
Of our friendship there lies not at all an end,
They will notice us only getting closer & how.
For you, I write this poem as I am really happy today remembering all the good times that we have been spending together.
Yes I am possessive and selfish when I ask you solely for myself,
Not because I am negative, but because I am hopeful that our sun will shine,
Your happiness is my main motive as I motivate you to study for yourself,
Not because I will gain something out of it but as you are going to be happy in future.
In you I have seen an Angel,
So helpful and kind you are,
Motherly care for future patients,
Now I conclude this post buddy.
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 2:49 AM UTC
Did you know that every time he searched your eyes,
While he pushed deep-
That his emotions passion and lust was equivalent to her?
For every time he traced his finger tip down your spine;
your hands grasped to cover more surface.
Cotton.
Polyester.
Satin,
as you braced for smooth impact.
He only understood the similar love language he shared with her.
With you-
craving of possessive feelings,
Proving your worth to him
asking for time via a clock whom hands couldn’t unwind
Separate.
Disintegrate.
A Minaj a trios-
unbeknownst to you existed,
Co-starring you
For every soft connection within each curve...
Your identity was a reflection of another.
For all the things you projected
Marriage.
House.
Dog.
Children.
His capability of taking you to ecstasy,
Lead you here
Had you any clue?
This little game called life,
Excluded the other woman (you).
Aug 20, 2018
Aug 20, 2018 at 3:50 PM UTC
He's so possessive
He turns aggressive.
Fire burns his passion
And his intentions impure.
Being over protective
Is not impressive.
Locked in a prison
Is what it's like.
Abusive,
Bruises,
Secluded,
Excuses.
Love has become an illusion.
A mystery is the conclusion.
Fear has polluted your body.
Cleaning yourself up has become your new hobby.
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 11:02 AM UTC
Sun at its peak, everything outside is so bright,
but her room is giving a horrific sight.
She stands in front of mirror wearing his favorite dress.
Her reflection looks back at her, asking
"who are you?"
She touches her lips, closes her eyes.
"You're a freak and I love it. Can you be mine?"
She opens her eyes wide,
as woke up from a nightmare,
or maybe it was only a haunted memory.
But something is breaking inside.
She picks up lipstick, paints her lips red.
Looks damaged but but beautiful outside.
"I love you so much. You're the best thing happened to me. Stay with me forever. You're my life."
She walks towards the side table.
A suicide note is waiting there to get read.
Burning it with her lighter, she smiles.
"Why are you so depressed all time? What is bothering you?
Why you get this anxiety? You got me baby. Its all fine."
She turns and makes her calendar marked 6th of July.
Putting all pain behind,
she lefts a sigh of relief as if the beast,
that stalks her is duped forever.
"Why are you so possessive? I hate it.
How can you have a lot of Internet friendships but no friends in real? You gotta change yourself."
She walks through the door.
A new life is ahead her.
"No you don't have to change yourself this way. Don't be childish."
She is going down through stairs.
"There is nothing normal with you. You always exaggerate things. Sometimes I hate even myself to be with you."
Suddenly she hears a phone ring coming out of her room.
Her stomach drops.
"Things are not working out baby I'm sorry..."
She is going back to her room.
"We must get separated."
Her hands trembling, her heart making a one last wish.
"Why did you cut your wrist? I hate you even more now"
Mommy's text was there that she might get late today.
"You're a freak. Get out of my life."
She smashes her phone into mirror.
She is done with being all fine.
She is not going outside now to show the world that she is strong.
Her screams filling the room.
"I love you please come back."
But only echoes are there laughing back at her.
And here she goes
writing again a suicide note.
Jul 7, 2018
Jul 7, 2018 at 11:50 PM UTC
Behind my old house
once grew a mango tree;
last year they chopped it down
to build a highway, toll free.
It never inspired much awe or poetry
it was like other mango trees,
under which I played since I was three
and was home to some possessive bees.
When strong winds blew
it never bowed,
its branches somehow grew
that is until now.
The ground on which it stood
is now covered with asphalt,
and it will never be understood
as to who was really at fault.
And as for the bees
well, I never did like them,
but then you see
they were here longer than I am.
My neighbors and cousins
with whom I had lots of fun,
seek all sorts of reasons
why now we have none.
I can only say, for what's worth
when the Almighty does an inventory,
He may label planet Earth
"An old cemetery".
Dec 31, 2010
Dec 31, 2010 at 4:24 PM UTC
It wasn’t fair
Here take it all
Fix it
I never should’ve
Let me fix you
I shouldn’t have
I wanna fix you
So you fix me
But what’s here to fix ?
I can’t fix you
You can’t fix me
I wasn’t ready for you
You’re a challenge
You challenge me
I can’t have you
I don’t want you
Yes I do
Maybe I’ll always want you
But who cares
You don’t
Do I care ?
I never came
I didn’t wanna cause you pain
But I did
And you cause me pain
We abused each other
I’m gonna let you go
It hurt so much
But I have to
Because if you love someone
You have to
I’m sorry
I’m sorry for being so obsessive
For being so possessive
But what you did wasn’t right
You didn’t really help the fight
I don’t know what else to say
Ok bye I hope you have a nice day
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 3:33 AM UTC
i noticed that
i'm nothing like a
covalent bond.
they share;
i can't seem to do that
with anything.
i'm more of an
ionic bond.
they gain and lose electrons...
just like me.
except,
i don't gain and lose electrons.
i gain and (mostly) lose friends and
other relationships and
i know the reason why:
because i'm nothing
like a covalent bond.
i can't share my friends
and it's becoming a problem
for not just them
but for myself too.
i become selfish and
possessive and
i always wondered why
people would leave me and
yet i'm the one who
pushed them out of
my electron cloud.
May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 8:21 AM UTC
Horrid and morbid, bitter, glittered and littered memories! Automotives, adaptive captives, movies, motives, Natives, locomotives, obsessive and possessive. Some awesome, brilliant, different, ignorant, persistent and resilient. ****** and exotic! Some memories are eccentric, fantastic, futuristic, magic, logistic, optimistic,
plastic, realistic, tragic or sadistic. Some random sizes with hidden prizes! Blameful, gainful, lameful and painful. Dreary destinies, diaries, inquires, weary rivalries, stories and theories in memory.
In theory, memories made from cheers and fears, jeers and tears!
Of amends, amens, omens, gems, hymns and stems. Memories
abbreviated and dedicated, deviated and medicated! Memories cased,
edited and erased. Evangelically, eventually everyone inherits! They’re like tiny merits! They spike the psych. They strike and are unlike. Memories of bites, defects, dislikes, effects, fights, flights, insects, logics, neglects, objects, plight, projects, protests, recollects, reflects
rejects, respects and suspects. Memories of fate and hate! Some are not great. Memories of schemes, screams or themes of dreams that seem. Memories of small, memories of tall! Memories in despise, memories
of lies. Memories of wise; beyond the skies, as I close my eyes…
Mar 29, 2012
Mar 29, 2012 at 9:40 PM UTC
Depression is a hooded figure standing just outside of a wooden doorway,
Blood dripping down your skin and having the sick thought of “Oh, look how beautiful the red is”
(everyone always says red is my color).
Depression is writing sick poetry on skin and publishing it with scars, cutting on ankles, not wrists because you’re scared you’ll get in trouble but you so desperately need to be seen, and never are.
Depression is accepting ruin in life with this hole in your chest because death is a reward, an escape from this pain you deserve to feel.
It is writing the word “alone” and seeing the word “home”, accepting the torment like a gift because you’ve earned it.
Depression is admitting suicidal thoughts to paper and not to people, and loving the broken things, hoping to tie them together, thinking maybe things will get better, but knowing that’s just wishful thinking because
Depression is tying yourself together with the severed nerves in your heart;
It is rope, it is ribbon, it is thread, it is DNA;
It is hearing your mother call you monster and disgusting through the too-thin walls of your door when she thinks you can’t hear,
And depression is sadness being a privilege you’re too pathetic to have.
It is a hug, a freezing touch, a reminder that
Depression is being birthed a lie.
And it is shutting yourself behind that wooden doorway
And hearing your family laugh like cackling hyenas,
Eating at your self esteem like softened prey
And learning at a young age to love family always but that family isn’t always love because
Depression is family.
It is an unfurnished home,
An empty frame,
A foot when the shoe hasn’t been broken in yet,
you when life hasn't been broken in yet,
Seeing happy people and thinking they all look the same, like the front covers of magazines with grins reaching their eyes while yours can’t, and wishing you could package your smiles into tiny little piles and hand them to people more deserving of them because you know you’re wasting them with half-assed lines of “I’m fine”
Depression is having to view your past as if it wasn’t yours, because to accept it as reality is to accept finality of your life through suicide.
It is the note masked inside of a poem,
Envisioning pills as if they were peace,
Depression is the last stanza,
It is the audience,
It is this microphone,
It is me standing in a room full of strangers
And for the first time finally feeling like I'm being heard.
Depression is a hooded figure standing just outside of a wooden doorway that keeps pounding, possessive, ****** but when you open the door out of anger and shout “I’M SCARED” to thin air, your voice comes out as a whisper.
And silently, the figure replies;
“I know your favorite color.”
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 8:04 PM UTC
Love should not be possessive. Love like you would a flower, growing in a field.
If you were to pluck that flower, take it inside, to place in a vase or between the pages of a book, it will wither and it will die. Suffocated, cut off from that place which it is meant to be.
Instead, lay next to your love. Let your breath be the wind that brushes against its petals. In a storm, build a fortress to protect it, to shade it from the sun. Sing songs to it until you fall asleep, where you dream beside it.
If you part, have no fear. Relish the moments in which that Love is beside you. Do not entertain thoughts of another coming and plucking that flower, you have no control over such things. Live beside that which you Love, possession will only bring death. No one can take your love. If in the morning that flower is no longer there, fear nothing, as you too will one day be gone.
The more we love, the more we want to hold on. Let go of the idea of permanence. Everything is ever changing. The seasons, the tides, they come and they go. Move within them. Hold that Love deep inside, like a heartbeat.
Fear of loss is ever gnawing. Let go of fear by letting go of the idea of possession. All that you own is that which beats within you, silent and voluminous. All else is an illusion.
When you look across the room at her, do so as you would a flower. Appreciate and enjoy, do not let the tendrils of fear wrap themselves around you. Do not reach out and take what is not yours, do not ask for anything in return. Open up your heart, let the sunshine pour from your eyes. Before you know it, these moments will be memories. This life will be another grain of sand on an endless beach. your story will be lost on the winds of spring.
Aug 26, 2015
Aug 26, 2015 at 6:09 AM UTC
he wouldn’t mind if you will become clingy & possessive.
in fact he love it when you are doing those actions.
every time someone is scrutinizing him
when you two wandering around.
when someone is telling their feelings for him,
when he is talking to other girls.
when he does not answer your calls and messages for nothing
so that when you two meet the day after that
you are ****** for being paranoid and
he is going to see your cute expressions
that makes him smile,
feeling ease,
flatter his heart,
make him want to kiss you,
and makes him love you even more.
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 12:42 PM UTC
I am a controlling boyfriend.
No, I am not a male, nor do I have a girlfriend to abuse. But I am the crazy stalker controlling boyfriend.
I have realized something in myself:
I am free with my boy and his casual flirtations, but am extremely jealous and possessive of my girls, when I have one.
Or even in my present case of not having one, I want to possess her as she has possessed me. I want all your time, all your thoughts, as you inhabit mine.
“How do you handle the jealousy??" It's funny, I don't get jealous when I have both partners in my bed, or in my arms. That is when I’m most content.
I get jealous when outsiders are flirtatious or show interest. It's also funny, I'm more annoyed when people flirt with him thinking he’s unattached.
I don't get it either; just a quirk of mine.
Perhaps my nonchalance with my boy is merely grown out of our time together. In nearly seven years, not one has managed to create a rift. Those who have tried have failed, and he and I have come out the better.
Patience is a virtue I do not possess, and the longer I go on incomplete... mayhap my own fears make me dig my claws into a new potential. Fear that someone else will charm such a rare unicorn away from me/us, and we’ll be left again, searching.
Nor is this a new feeling, for this young woman. A year ago, I felt the same overwhelming possessiveness. Then again, it would not do to compare the two; they are two different people, who hold different qualities.
The bitter jealousy I now project I have tasted before. The shock that I’ve become my own controlling high school boyfriend fills me with disgust.
Unbeknownst to her, I imagine her not only in my bed, in my arms, in my life… but also on my knee. I’ve never before considered someone as both lover and submissive.
Unbeknownst to me, would that make my jealousy grow or fade, were I to possess her in every way I’ve imagined?
Obviously I have some things to work on.
Firstly, finding our unicorn.
Nov 14, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 at 1:46 PM UTC
exacting in love
possessive by nature
volatile in temperament
and raging like flames
you are wild and untamed
nothing like docile padma!
the strategic placement
of each kiss on
your voluptuous body
you so unashamedly demand
is provocatively seductive
drawing out
from deep within the soul
of this simple flute-playing cowherd
a brazen but besotted lover
© 2019
Apr 28, 2019
Apr 28, 2019 at 2:40 PM UTC
Everyone talks about depression as if they know it.
But what they don’t know
is that depression is a hooded figure standing just outside of a wooden doorway,
it’s feeling the blood dripping down your skin and having the sick thought of
“Oh, look how beautiful the red is”
Depression is lying on your bed for hours on end,
salt tracks lining your face like the scars on your ankles,
staring at your ceiling
tracing patterns in the paint and accepting death in life with this hole in your chest
because death is a reward,
an escape from this pain you deserve to feel.
Depression is writing sick poetry on skin and publishing it with scars,
cutting on ankles,
not wrists
because you’re scared you’ll get in trouble
but you so desperately need to be seen,
and never are.
Depression is writing the word “alone”
and seeing the word
“home”,
accepting the pain like a gift because you deserve it.
Depression is admitting suicidal thoughts to paper and not to people,
and loving the broken things,
hoping to tie them together,
thinking maybe things will get better,
but knowing that’s just wishful thinking.
Depression is hearing your mother call you monster and disgusting
through the too-thin walls of your door
when she thinks you can’t hear,
and then telling you to your face that you have no right to cry,
as if sadness is a privilege and you’re so pathetic that you don’t deserve it.
Depression is shutting yourself up in your room
and hearing your family laughing downstairs
because you feel like you can’t be a part of them
and learning at a young age to love family always
but that family isn’t always love
Depression is wanting to take
love and your heart
and break them into tiny little pieces and throw them into waves,
to throw them away
Depression is a foot when the shoe hasn’t been broken in yet,
is when you haven’t broken life in,
is seeing happy people and thinking they all look the same,
like the front covers of magazines
with smiles reaching their eyes when yours can’t.
Depression is wishing you could package your smiles
into tiny little piles and hand them to people more deserving of them
because you know you’re wasting them with half-assed lines of
“I’m fine.”
Depression is having to view your past
as if it wasn’t yours.
Depression is a hooded figure standing just outside
of a wooden doorway
and when you close the door out of fear
it keeps pounding,
possessive,
******
and when you open the door out of anger you shout,
“I’M SCARED”
to thin air
but your voice comes out as a whisper.
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 11:01 PM UTC
Simple rhymes using words
thoughts from my mind
deleterious flow so be careful when you dive
my words having you committing suicide in a sea of catastrophe
Your girl is possessive but I have her in my possession like an apostrophe
Life in my face saying "Boy you can't"
Still pushing 50 times my weight like an ant
its really the small things that lead to the big picture
I was made in GOD's image so I guess he can write too...go figure
a lot of people don't believe in what they cannot see
you can't see oxygen but you believe you can breathe.
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 3:49 AM UTC
You love to get the words out of me
The words I wouldn’t use, they sound *****
You love the way I look at you
I look into your eyes, and something sets free
You love the way I listen to you
I remember everything, Mr. Perfect doesn’t
We both love crushing
I crush on you
And you crush me
You call me your tomboy
And get so possessive
You say that you need me
And then act submissive
I adjust your dresses
Sometimes your shoe laces
When you keep me waiting
I say you are allowed
Don’t call me bro
Babe, what is the ground
We both love crushing
I crush on you
And you crush me
You say you love me
Every time you text
I say, “I love you”
You shoot hearts and rainbows back
You want to know about my crushes
If I ever loved a girl
You wink and dance with me
Say I’m the only one to make you twirl
We both love crushing
I crush on you
And you crush me
You love when I play gentleman
Opening the door
Letting you lead
Walking you back
Paying you heed
You gush about my skills
The way I move the swords
The way I calculate
The way I play with words
Close discussions and debates
And then we discuss
How Mr. Perfect and you are hanging
We both love crushing
I crush on you
And you crush me
We are best friends
And you want us to be, forever
You want to hang out
And go abroad together
I would stand by you
In all platonic capacities
Even when Mr. Perfect marries you
And claims you stupidly
We both love crushing
I crush on you
And you crush me
May 25, 2020
May 25, 2020 at 11:39 PM UTC
I hate my personality.
I don't have a personality
That cultivates relationships.
No,
My personality leads to anguish -
Insecurity.
If I could,
For once,
Harvest a bit of
Silence in my brain -
I'd love that.
I hate to feel anxiety;
Fear of abandonment;
Insecurity;
Obscurity;
I hate to feel what I feel.
What's worse,
I can't find elegant words
To describe it.
Leaving me mute,
People assume things about me,
Making my efforts moot.
Friends think I'm overbearing;
Demanding.
Romances think I don't trust them;
That I'm too controlling,
Insecure;
Dependent;
Too moody;
Too possessive.
My personality makes people leave me.
I'm too touchy -
Too hard to love or understand.
People see me,
And expect me to freak out,
Or to demand attention.
Well this is my account -
Because when you are on
The borderline,
It's easy to see
That the grass is greener
On either side -
But for others,
You seem polarized.
I'm not happy with how my brain works.
I don't want to be the way I am.
I don't want to make sure people are
Thinking about me...
And then feel guilty or angry when they don't,
Or can't.
I hate my personality.
I hate who I am.
It causes me to never feel comfort,
And my unrest has left me
An insomniac for too long.
Now,
I just want to rest.
But,
It's hard to sleep when you're alone
And afraid of the dark.
Jun 14, 2020
Jun 14, 2020 at 3:09 PM UTC
Being possessive,is a curse
It brings many problems without any cause
A person one who is possessive
Hurts thyself
And others calls her possessive
As jealous,complex,and selfish
But being selfish is different from being possessive
oh my God !Let everybody knows What POSSESSIVE Is?
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 1:54 AM UTC
My great-great-great-grandfather,
The father of my grandfather's great-grandfather,
He was a teacher by creed and by deed,
Once he sat with his eyes closed in great concentration...
A beautiful lady saw him sitting graciously in Padmasana pose,
That cunning nymph she wanted his penance undone for herself,
But he was a little short-tempered and couldn't take it when she tried it,
His patience was very short when it came to being disturbed during his penance.
Disturbed, he saw the beautiful nymph trying to break his temper,
He got enraged and picked up his trident to quickly ****** it through her *****
She had fear in her eyes,
Remorse on her face,
Pain in her contorted brows,
And despair in her dying voice,
As she uttered the curse,
*"O you so-called holy man,
You would never get love,
Your generations to come would die thirsty of love,
You're killing me because you can't make love to me,
So lost in your penance,
And so possessive about it,
Let your generations suffer for your actions..."*
She dropped dead there itself but her curse continues to be carried from one generation to the next.
I have been paying the price too,
Just like my father and grandfather,
No girl I knew has understood it,
No I won't just follow my forefathers,
I'll have it my way, I'll keep searching.
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 8:53 AM UTC
dear, you cut me off mid-sentence.
for all my skills, techniques and terms
here's a thing i can't find a way to convey.
a narrative even beyond comprehension to it's protagonist
a girl without a simile or metaphor applicable?
somebody to leave me laconic, short in syntax, unstructured.
will we discuss possessive pronouns now?
for in subtext, i am the possessive one.
i'm so lacking verbally
but i'm sure you'd understand it contextually
to punctuate: i can be the ellipsis, the implication of my omissions
but you're in my text as the most eager mark of exclamation
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 3:41 PM UTC
Yes I am clingy,
But you will never find someone
There for you like I will be.
Yes I am needy,
But when you need reassurance
I’ll be full of soothing words.
Yes I am jealous,
But you will never find someone
More loyal than me.
Yes I am possessive,
But you will never find someone
That values you like I do.
Yes I have flaws, I am human. Please don’t fault me for loving the way I do.
Dec 12, 2017
Dec 12, 2017 at 4:32 AM UTC