This is not a love poem for it is typed with needles that poke holes in my heart
Causing it to bleed a flow of words
“No use crying over spilt blood”
For instead of landing next door to your heart
My blood drops splater onto the hungry ground
And they evaporate into the air just like the love that was once born in your heart.
This is not a love poem for instead of sweet melodies I hear volcanic eruptions of raw fury
As we pounce at each other like wild carnivores over a piece of decaying flesh
Verbal grenades trown with so much pleasure that even Hitler would be disempowered
This is not a love poem for my dead soul is trapped in my living body
Slowly decomposing me from the iside out
The utterings of my mouth have turned into worms.
You‘re disgusted, the mere stench of me brings last night‘s supper right back up your throat
This is not a love poem for love lost its worth when pictures of deceit were painted upon your sheets
And my self respect is non existent fo I continue to long for one who‘s so unappreciative of my loyalty
And like a whore I surrender my body to a man who feels not an ounce of emotion for me
This is not a love poem for when you were here I suppressed all the love poems that tingled in my finger tips
Yearning to be recorded on red–romantic paper to be mounted upon your wall
I succumbed to my fears and let them fade away and now I‘m fading away from your memory
Like a song so meaningless it may as well be silent.
This is not a love poem for my here heart stands; naked and exposed…unsafe.
This is not a love poem for reading it you only feel harassed. Not loved.
So this is not a love poem.
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