He drives me insane.
"Like a Hampster, he gets on his wheel and goes around and around and around and doesn't bother with anyone else"
I would love to hate him and be mad at HIM for all the annoy and ridiculously arrogant, selfish things he does, but I can't help hating myself. I hate all the time I've wasted. I hate all the love I've given him. I can't spend that time any other way now. I can't NOT think about all the times I've wished we were together, especially all the time that we WERE together, but his heart just wasn't there. I don't like to doubt other peoples feelings and i feel bad assuming this, but I truly believe that I never affected him. I honestly think that my presence in his life has made ABSOLUTELY NO DIFFERENCE. To love so much and to see so much wasted is truly saddening.
And people wonder why so many people give up on love.
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
Welcome. If you want truth, you just passed it. This is Idealism.
Whispers of Temptation
I, much concerned with life
Saw the skull beneath the skin
And lustful creatures all around
Lean forward with lips full and grin.
Dead brown roots instead of balls
Drain the attention of wandering eyes
He knew my rambuncitious thoughts
Called in by lusts and luxeries.
He, I guessed, was a hands-on learner
Who could control not his fervor
To seize.
And force.
And dictate.
Calmed by nothing but that which penetrates
His flesh knew not patience,
His hand an expert beyond experience,
My body not yet a temple,
And I, quickly lead by harsh desires.
* * *
Summer was nice : The extreme heat
Gave way to naked skin
For short, but sweet unknown release
Giving fruitless promises of bliss.
From a chaise lounge, One can see a world.
Observing, planning, asserting.
Scheming.
Mouth-watering.
From which he pounced; and with quick declaration.
"I lust for you"
A force on my subtlty.
Even the slightest hint
Aroused a deeper cry
For flames that danced between
To keep the empty warm.
On ne voit bien qu'avec le cœur, l'essentiel est invisible pour les yeux.- Antoine de Saint-Exupery, Le Petit Prince
Writing Baltimore.
Welcome. If you want truth, you just passed it. This is Idealism.
Me, Playing Poet.
Whispers of Temptation
I, much concerned with life
Saw the skull beneath the skin
And lustful creatures all around
Lean forward with lips full and grin.
Dead brown roots instead of balls
Drain the attention of wandering eyes
He knew my rambuncitious thoughts
Called in by lusts and luxeries.
He, I guessed, was a hands-on learner
Who could control not his fervor
To seize.
And force.
And dictate.
Calmed by nothing but that which penetrates
His flesh knew not patience,
His hand an expert beyond experience,
My body not yet a temple,
And I, quickly lead by harsh desires.
* * *
Summer was nice : The extreme heat
Gave way to naked skin
For short, but sweet unknown release
Giving fruitless promises of bliss.
From a chaise lounge, One can see a world.
Observing, planning, asserting.
Scheming.
Mouth-watering.
From which he pounced; and with quick declaration.
"I lust for you"
A force on my subtlty.
Even the slightest hint
Aroused a deeper cry
For flames that danced between
To keep the empty warm.
Labels
- Ex-Lovers Undercovers and with a New twist (48)
- Simple Pleasures and Delicate things (46)
- Sad Things You might know something about (44)
- Young John (37)
- The Boy (36)
- Literature (18)
- T13 (17)
- DR (11)
- Jesus and all things relative (10)
- Good Ole' Bal-t-More (6)
- Academic Endeavors (4)
- Eddie Izzard (2)
- Jeff (1)
Appearance should not be mistaken for Truth...
Quelque chose que j'épargne juste pour vous.
- Louise
- Something more, a little less, and just all around satisfying. A small lyrical, satirical, heart felt, heart melt with a cherry on top for you and your mom.
No comments:
Post a Comment