Friday, October 2, 2009

Just Poems...

These are just poems, nothing else. Just poems.


Been thinking,

how neither of us like to fight,

but you always say

you fight because you love me,

or you would stand back,

let me go

like you let her go,

but you love me,

so you fight yourself,

the things you know that I know,

the life you don't want me to know,

because you love me...


Butterfly wings for your picking,

Rainbows on black for your licking,

Hot pink toll booth to heaven,

Wet and primed for pricking;

Inconsolable lips

Quiver over your hips,

Eagerness sets in

As passion flows and pours and drips;

Desperate hands upon your chest,

Forced breaths exude from my breast,

Your eyes -- I fell in,

Submitted to your wickedness.


You hide, I flaunt,

I chase, you taunt,

My open book, your deception

Leave us both to want.

We are only ours to lose,

Each day we choose

Not peace, but our weapon,

Never achieving more than truce.



you want my whole

for yourself.

What do you give me but reminders

that I was not good enough,

better than anything you ever had,

so you said,

but never good enough...


Stop complaining

that you deserve better,

when all I ever hear is


Don't leave me,

I love you

More than I have ever loved anyone.

I need you.

Give me one more chance.


I must love you

More than I have ever loved anyone,

because I know you,

and I keep on giving you

One more chance.


Jealous of me, you explained

why you beat me so...

When I know others whose inner beings

I admire,

I long for them,

they give me reason to aspire,

Not more reason to self-hate.

I never complained,

Never asked you to not be




Just to stop giving it all away,

leaving no food for me

to eat.

Feed me first!

Please, please...


feed me first.

You behave as though I

lack the right

To point out our deficiencies,

As though my belief

in your potential,

my attempts to fight

For us--


You refuse to see

The man in your mirror,

an adolescent mirage.

You still see who you wish to see.

For my efforts,

You spit on me,

On us.

You ensure your fantasy image

lives on

At our expense.

Your selfish pretense.


I dance to the rhythm

Of the turning world.

As grey morning


A golden day,

A harp is born along the wall;

It's strings lengthen

Until a midday crescendo,

Then slowly fade

Into a lullaby.


The morning muse

Pulls out her harp,

Fingers stroke strings,

Sleeping colors awaken

To golden melodies

Gliding across the grey landscape.


Your tentative question,

Can she crawl under my blanket?

She did come to see me...


A bewildered 'no' floats from my lips

And lands a puzzle on your face.

Am I to forget she was also there

to tell you where she was buying

the men's shirts?

Played her music so loud,

As if I were tone deaf.

I tried to be,

Said proudly, like a blushing bride,

That we had renewed our vows.

All one motion,

hands slapped her lap as she stood;

I had not meant to slap her face.

She decreed you buy yourself

"A paper Burger King crown

and a matching tiara for _____."

Said my name,

gestured a nod in my direction,

As if I were blind...

A crystal tear 'no' escaped my heart,

colllided with your wall.

Your lying lips agreed,

Began throwing

My other friends

under the same bus.

I want to throw myself

under there, too,

find some peace

from your double dealings.


How would you humiliate me

into begging for your love

and believing your stories?

Would you strip me and beat me?

Would you laugh while I struggled

to rise from my fall?

Would you?

Would you push me back down

when I tried to get up?

Would you deny me your commitment

you made on the bridge?

Would you?

Would you rather save yourself

from the truth

than save us?

Would you?


The body is willing.

Love versus hate versus apathy

revolve in a deadly bitter triangle.

You cannot give,

I cannot leave,

So we grieve.

You like the attention,

the sympathy

too much to face the truth.

For glimpses of your love,

I remain.


You make me Laugh.

I love You.

Hurry Home.

It's Friday,

and I'm Horny.

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