Depression · Free Verse · Heartbreak · Love · Poem · Sex · Writing

Silence | Poems that Suck

Maybe I don't like the silence
 because it reminds me of an ex
  who used to disappear for days at
   a time, saying that the aliens had
    abducted him. 

Every time he'd reappear it was
 with some new girl, hanging off his
  dick - and I knew he'd slept with her
   so that he'd have a place to sleep, and 
     food to eat. 

I could never understand why
 he wouldn't come to me to ask
  for these things, knowing that 
   he'd never have to pay for them
    with sex. 

The last time he disappeared
 for months, turning up on the 
  opposite coast so that he could 
   "make it," but came back home with
     a pregnant fiancé.
Depression · Mental Health

Blue – Green Hair | Poems that Suck

It turns the bathwater
   chemical blue
reminding me of the 
   Mediterranean
and better days.

Of absorbing Vitamin D
  through 
my skin as a beautiful
  man
begged to worship at the
   temple
of my body.

 Where I felt
   alive
being carried on the
   waves
which rolled like a
  skilled 
lover's hips. 

This fiberglass tub
   is
a cheap, lifeless
  imitation
of that Middling Sea;

The blue stain
  ringing
the basin a reminder
  of that.
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.