Poetry Compilation #4 – Failed Love Edition

[18/11/19 – On the tube]

I came over.
You just came.

I laid out my heart.
You just wanted to get laid.

If only that was the story
I could be telling today.

Because the truth is
You couldn’t even satisfy a carnal desire.

When I went lower,
You didn’t go higher.

And you don’t get how that could put out a fire?

God, you are such a liar.

[04/02/20 – In bed]

It’s 3.31 and my heart hurts,
I think of your chest,
The melody of your laugh
And how tweeting lyrics has made things
Because poems are usually for the beaten,
the bruised and the damned.
And as the heart breaker, the last is all I am.
I love you but it wasn’t enough.
I want you but I chose myself.
I hurt you so I burn in hell.
I didn’t mean to,
I didn’t want to,
But I did this.
I broke your heart.
It doesn’t matter that it meant stabbing myself.
Mangling my limbs. Tearing my guts.
Your pain trumps mine.
You win the crappiest consolation prize.
And yet, a man with a broken finger seeks a doctor as much as a man with a broken leg,
So, though my tweeting was reckless,
Can you see why I chose to do what I did?
But I chose this.
I had the choice and you didn’t.
I was the slave to my emotions,
It was my chains that were toxic
And now you’ve been poisoned.
So, though our indirects have been soundless,
Karma herself has spoken.
She cries “GUILTY!”
Slavery is no excuse for murder, after all.
So I know that I deserve this.

[27/02/20 – On the tube]

You gave a good fuck,
But you don’t give a flying fuck.
You didn’t tell me to suck,
But you really do suck.
And now the clock has struck.
Time’s up, bitch!
Next time: better luck.

[22/03/20 – In bed]

I invested too much,
I fell asleep imagining your touch,
And that was only after three phone calls.

What is it about my heart
That it keeps getting ripped apart
And yet I still thrust over the
Hoping you’ll tape it together when there’s
not even a road map?

And I get too intense too fast
But I’m not sharing enough
Because you can’t even begin to understand
how painful this process has already been.

Because I thought this time,
I’ll guard the scraps,
I’ll only show the mess if they truly insist,
But fuck, how cheap am I to believe that
a few compliments equated to you
wanting me, wanting this?

So I cry while you blissfully lie,
Not knowing the destruction you ignited.
But it’s my fault for bringing my spark
To a bunch of kindle.
I have to blame myself for being so reckless
with something so brittle.

So go ahead and get your eight hours,
Think about your exercise, power, new romances.
Let’s face it, I won’t even learn and
Burn my heart to ashes –
I am too weak.
It’s only a matter of time before I get down on my
knees and offer myself to somebody else as
a new and unimproved victim.

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