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WHAT WAS IT D ?

Poetry By: Indie Skreet
Poetry



I will never know how easy it was for D to let me go or if he felt anything more for me than lust. I torture myself often; I lie to myself I no longer care.


Submitted:Jan 18, 2013    Reads: 11    Comments: 3    Likes: 1   


I have died a certain death

Hope and love seems so farfetched

No one shareS my lustful breath

An empty space where you once stretched

And I oft doubt what I had then

The depth of your emotion when

Your tender touch replaced with pen

Would visit me but not sure when

And I'm in pain in my demise

No longer locked into your eyes

The times of warmth such a surprise

I wonder now if mere disguise

I'm haunted in what I think

My tortured soul on the brink

Of multi-facet turns and kinks

Attractive option is to sink

To question who you were seems fair

Did I misunderstand that stare?

The one that seemed to say you care

Was it just sex that kept you there?

And so the question I now pose

Please say, were there more highs than lows?

Easier for you to dispose

Of what it was? I don't know.





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