poem (angry/hurt as hell)
Your eyes gleam , caressing my cheek.
Two smoldering pots of mystery “do-I-don’t-I-love-you” stew.
So much of me thirsts to plunge my hands into the murky brown and feel around for something identifiable.
I want to let the snakes that are coiled in my chest, slither over my tongue and hook their fangs into your flesh to the bone.
To watch their venom swell beneath your husk and worm its way into your brain for general processing.
I yearn for the tactility of what I feel to grind the inner walls of your lungs and kink your breathing the way it does the blood flow to my head.
Aching with affection, I hunger for you,
For the answers to questions that tip toe over my devotion, grinding in remaining shards from the last shattered heart.
I stand as a loveless Juliet, at a clock tower in Verona
“Dear flame of truth and infatuation, where art thou?”
Only the wind hisses a response.
“I hath doused the flame.”
Agony swells from within and leaks in streams down my chin and to the shifting sands at my feet.
“Who but a goddess doth conceal power so immense to conduct such an act?”
“Only she.” it whispers.
“Only she.”
Okay, so the shakespearean thing is a little off I'm sure and I think this poem is most likely (along with the rest) utter crap. BUT, would be nice to get some feedback, like it, love it, hate it, dont get it. What do you think it means?
TALK TO ME PEOPLE!
love you-
blagh!
Two smoldering pots of mystery “do-I-don’t-I-love-you” stew.
So much of me thirsts to plunge my hands into the murky brown and feel around for something identifiable.
I want to let the snakes that are coiled in my chest, slither over my tongue and hook their fangs into your flesh to the bone.
To watch their venom swell beneath your husk and worm its way into your brain for general processing.
I yearn for the tactility of what I feel to grind the inner walls of your lungs and kink your breathing the way it does the blood flow to my head.
Aching with affection, I hunger for you,
For the answers to questions that tip toe over my devotion, grinding in remaining shards from the last shattered heart.
I stand as a loveless Juliet, at a clock tower in Verona
“Dear flame of truth and infatuation, where art thou?”
Only the wind hisses a response.
“I hath doused the flame.”
Agony swells from within and leaks in streams down my chin and to the shifting sands at my feet.
“Who but a goddess doth conceal power so immense to conduct such an act?”
“Only she.” it whispers.
“Only she.”
Okay, so the shakespearean thing is a little off I'm sure and I think this poem is most likely (along with the rest) utter crap. BUT, would be nice to get some feedback, like it, love it, hate it, dont get it. What do you think it means?
TALK TO ME PEOPLE!
love you-
blagh!