Love

Courting the Edge of a Distant Love

The visceral groans that purr against my skin, my throat, my groin…
What is this feeling that envelopes my blood?
This feeling that causes me to yearn beyond thoughts and just languor on the edge
And stretch with need as I try to clench my womanhood into submission.

Why do I submit?
Why should I?

The answer is slow, though not always welcomed.
Is this what true love feels like?
Is this what it means to commit and actually stay committed?
It’s a hard thrill, a crazy thrill, a painful thrill… but still a thrill.
Was anyone ever worth this before?
Did my tongue not go dry at a missing before?
Did I not yearn and love so hard that this urge cascaded before?
I can’t tell you now,
But this feels new.

Here I am sitting on the edge of sanity.
Clenching my thighs and thinking it’s almost a year before your entry.
If this isn’t love I don’t know how to define the taste.
My thoughts and feelings make it so hard to assuage.

In my dreams, you love me with your tongue in and out like a stream.
You rip open my body and make the universe scream.
God! You love me so hard that each pore steams.
And, still, my insanity beams.

How do I calm the beast inside?
I feel trapped because it’s so hard to take apart these times.
I just go by the moments that temper my skin,
And hope against hope that, eventually, you’ll accept my sins.

Emphatic Love

She feels you.
You know she does.
You know she will always help your thoughts and inner shit.
And so you bask.
You bask in the fact that you without her is you without you.
You know that you without her is you without your confidant.
You without her means bye bye assurance.
And you without her is you without your moments of clandestine thrills.
So you stay.
You stay and you seek and you take.
Why not get as much from this and try to make it your own?
How often will you find another that will give you a throne?

And here she sits.
Waiting.
Wanting.
Expecting, because she sees what you do not know, and she knows.
Maybe too much…
What does she do?
Should she listen to the sounds that play in her ear?
Or go by the seconds that prove her despair?
Does she continue to listen to the quiet songs that play?
Or does she put away her heart and just go by the day?

Dynamics of ish will always play true.
It really doesn’t matter, these things we do.
I feel, you take, when will it end?
Someone’s always left with something unsaid…

XX

How do I cry for a loss that feels superficial but deep?
How do I want or define something I’m not sure I want to keep?
I love you. I do.
You know this.
But love, to me, is bullshit.
Oh it’s great in the moments of early thrills.
It speaks volumes when things are covered in silk.
But –
Its death seems inevitable…

RHYME AND RHYTHM

For years I lived relentlessly as a juggernaut,
Souring through space like an astronaut.
Then you cracked me open like a coconut,
And soon I was no longer like an Argonaut.
As my veins split open and you seeped through,
I could no longer think clearly with the same views,
I was drowning in emotions of what I couldn’t tell,
Like you’d found me and put me under some voodoo spell.
You made me yearn for your touches and your smiles,
You made me cry with your words and your wiles.
I felt weak ‘cus you turned me into a puddle,
So I would seek just to corrupt this riddle.
But now I’m simply chilling by the side,
Letting these waves wash over me like a tide.
I’ve given up on trying to figure out this love thing,
And will just wait for my death by your heart strings.

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HEARTBREAK

Heartbreak is my mistress,
We lie well in time.
Whenever there is sorrow,
She whets my lips like wine.
Heartbreak brings me peace,
Her smile is my undoing.
Wherever there is an opening,
She readies me for the wooing.

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BENEATH THE SHEETS

He lied love between his teeth, while he bedded another.
Deliberately stirred my heart in fear of me moving on.
And kept me beneath the sheets.
Silly girl. Just move on and forget the manipulating prick.
A little bit longer and i will – a few years is not that long.
I’ll just become involved with someone else – that’ll show him.
Silly girl. You’re still in bed with him.
I know, I’ll tell him to go to hell, delete his
number, his texts and those late night images that would invade my dreams.
He no longer exists. Just a little bit longer. He simply waits.
He knows that I’ll eventually forget.
The bastard calls. I accept.
I love you he’d say before hanging up.
Son of a bitch! I love you too, I’d breathe reluctantly.
Back to square one. Beneath the sheets.

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ABOVE AND BEYOND

I can feel my soul bleeding,
Shedding tears of lonesomeness and bliss.
I’ve no control over the gaping hole that sits on my chest,
Seeking – wanting to pull the next victim through and bring him to his knees.
I’m a perpetual masochist,
A continuous black mist that encircles and destroys.
I’m not without feelings – feelings of me, myself and I.
Still…. Kiss me on my cheek, and let me know your insides.

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THE LIES THAT ARE ALWAYS TRUE

There is no happy ending!
We are all screwed from that first awkward kiss
To the descend into blissful lies and wants.
It’s never what is played out in dreams.
Don’t get me wrong, there are some moments
Of ignorant sweet talks and coy smiles under covers.
And of course coated seconds of a few orgasmic touches which –
In truth – will be great.
But, my dear, it will never last.

Happy endings are for princesses stuck in a time warp
Between the pages of children’s books.
They’re not for reality,
Not my reality,
Not yours,
And sure as hell not his.
So do away with blind wants, my dear,
And embrace the Happily Never After that lies in wake.

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DIRTY LITTLE SECRET

My tears mix with his sweat and I sigh.
This is my masochistic lover – the one who makes my knees weak and leaves my bed before I sleep.
I’m the dirty little secret that resides under cover,
Being brought to the surface when there’s a need to recover.
This soul yearns and dies a little each time between our passes,
Clenching to the imagination of a fool.
With this sin as my burden I shall bear the mark,
And sit quietly as each parting moment rips a piece from my heart.
Soon, there will be a skeleton of me – a shadow of what I knew.
Still… knowing…. I stay.
He’s my dirty little secret too.

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