this Love is like my favorite read. a bittersweet mystery. the type of book too compelling to ever put down. so we peruse on. it’s like a repeat of your favorite Love song. no matter how much it plays, each listen, the words seem sweeter. the meaning gets deeper. we can’t press stop. endless replay. like a mid July day. sure, it may get cold but the flames in our hearts that burn ever so endlessly keep us warm together or apart. But when our souls touch the flame ignites. just like a cold winter’s night. Holding each other close to keep our blood flowing just as our passions for one another. there is no other Love like this. Your lips melt on mine as my tongue melts on yours. No limits of passion we choose to reveal. almost like a home cooked meal. warms your heart and eases your hunger. filling you up yet knocking you down. the pure satisfaction it brings to you. Holds you over until the next time. Just like this Love. paradox Love. how it could be compared to so many things, yet nothing can compare to this Love. it’s a bittersweet mystery.. The type of book too compelling to ever put down.. So what do we do?
my scars, new and old.. they are stories left untold. they speak volumes while my tongue stays mute. these silent screams. embedded; always a part of me. reminiscent struggles, day by day.. these Scars, they voice the words that I never could say. you see, these scars are my deepest of poetry..
now you could judge me, but fuck it cause you don’t know me.
one cut for the person who belittled me. the next for the person who said failure is my only success.. the one who made my own self the very thing I detest.
you’d think your Loved ones would uplift your spirits rather than to wrench them wholly from you. so the next cut’s to the person who said continuously said “fuck you”. made me feel as though my presence was not welcomed, in the one place I should always have the key to.. fuck you too.
another cut to the ill-mannered who live up by putting me down. allocated my body structure into criticizing appellations.. and stating I get around, typical bullshit allegations. guessing teen motherhood automatically makes you promiscuous.. the rumors people spread.. not to mention, another cut to the abuse that I’ve dealt with.
the physical is locked away in a place you could never reached.. and the emotional abuse is yet to be preached. so a cut to them both. crazy how no matter how much you bleed, there’s still more blood to lose.. won’t run out until my mind runs out on me.. sad to think, I don’t know when that will be.. and I hate to say it could be soon.. so a cut to this curse that may lead to my doom.
the next cut I pray Id gain the courage to press a little harder.. a little deeper.. a little longer.. am I crazy? shit we all are.. so a cut to the words that we all can’t say.. and although the blood escapes this tortured body.. the pain never seems to fully go away..
deranged aspirations of this make believe land..
where you and I lye coincide as our bodies intertwine and our souls connect.
we are one. your thoughts are mine and mine are yours; and we explore.. each other’s anatomy, psychology.
we join hands. our eyes descend into the dark depths of our desires. so passionate. no words spoken, bodies revealing it’s own language.
we’re lost in the mood. your demands flow through me. I know exactly what to do. abrupt loss of control. indulging into one another.
we are Lovers. soul mates. showing each other our true forms. gazing upon each other yet eyes still shut.
we drift apart.. but we find our ways back. this never ending journey keeps us together; yet distant.
we’re destined to be. in this make believe land.. stupid, crazy, deranged aspirations.. I Love You.