Heartbreak · Love · Sex

Let’s Smash | Poems that Suck

I don't want love, not really. 
Not the contented domesticity of a
white wedding, a swollen pregnant belly,
a house in the suburbs or a white picket fence. 

None of the considerations and
compromises that leave you 
resentful, thinking about how
you're losing out on your best
fucking years as you brush your
teeth while your partner takes a piss.

No - what I want is, in comparison, 
hedonism. The blaze of passion, white
hot and unquenchable. To worship your
body with my mouth, my hands. 

I want to shiver under your touch, 
feel the desire of your gaze and
die the little death beneath you.

I want the romance of dancing in the 
kitchen, of falling asleep in your arms,
to hold your deepest secrets in confidence,
to know you better than anyone else. 

Then I want the drama. 
I want you to break my heart, 
to shatter it so that I can write
shitty poems for a lifetime. 
Heartbreak · Love

Sisyphus | Poems that Suck

I am assembling a chain,
 you see.
No matter if its fine
 and as
insubstantial as air.

Each moment builds on
 the next,
a determined effort to
 move forward,
to forget you.

This link? I'll forget the
 exact blue
of your eyes, the 
 next the
smell of your skin.

With each link you'll
 fade into
a hazy recollection until
 you become
just another number,

another face in the
 crowd of 
the countless who have
 gone to
die in the crowded room
 (of my heart).

The irony, of course
 is that
each loop is crafted
  with the 
very thing I wish to forget.

And as I try to 
 forget you
I inevitably remember you;
 the blue
fire of your kiss.

It's then that the
 chain shatters
in my hands, forcing me
  to rebuild 
it over and over again

only to rupture in
 my hands
once more, tormenting
 me to
madness.

Heartbreak · Love

Octo-Kitty | Poems that Suck

I'd joke and call you
 my octopus because you'd
  engulf me in a flurry of 
   limbs whenever I came near,
    pulling me seductively toward 
                          your mouth.

I was happy to be your
 prey, to get lost in the 
  tangle of your tentacles - another
   love blinded fool - I had no idea that
    you'd feast on my soft innards, then
                               spit out
                                the bones 
                                  when you were through.
Depression · Heartbreak · Love

Call me a Psychic | Poems that Suck

We'll chance upon each other, 
 some day or evening
  a long time from now. 

By then my heart will
 have scabbed over, but
  still the edges are tender. 

You'll be excited - "it's been
 so long!" - but I'll
  be full of dread, caution. 

I'll regard you coolly, just
 enough detachment to make
  you unsure, ill at ease.

I'll make some cutting remark, 
 veiled in subtlety, then
  excuse myself from your company. 

You'll mull the comment over, 
 repeating it in your
  mind, puzzling together its meaning.

And slowly, you'll reach the
 soul of it and
  know that I'm still bleeding. 

You'll watch me from across
 the room, and I'll 
  know by its focused heat,

But I'm too old and 
 too tired to play
  the games of young girls. 

You won't see me feigning
 laughter or pretending to 
  flirt with some random person.

I'll simply be me, as
  even keeled and placid
   as you knew I was. 

It will remind you of
 those quiet moments we
  shared, tangled in each other,

Doing nothing but marveling at
 the miracle of love,
  the wonder of eachother's breathing.

You'll then be in touch,
 and I'll hesitate but
  answer; no sense of preservation. 

You'll apologize for it all
 and I'll give you
  a halfhearted, watery kinda smile.

(Actions, of course, speak louder
 than words and I'm
  simply mirroring your past indifference.)

You'll realize too late, like
 they all do, that
  you made a huge mistake. 

But it'll make no difference
 to me because you
  had broken something inside me 

That day, way back, when
 I stared out of the
  window, watching a squirrel as 

You stood above me and
 recited a litany of
  why you didn't want me.

And maybe then you'll long
 for me the way
  I did those many months,

The wind blowing through the
 hollow in your chest,
  whistling past the ragged edges.

And then you'll understand, it
 dissolved that warm October
  as I sat in silence. 

You'll know it's too late
 for me, 
  for you, 
   for us. 

It's just now that you're catching up.