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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: June 25, 2016

A A A | A A A

Submitted: June 25, 2016



The words won't let me sleep
like the notes around the cabin,
until you have them out and then --
well, look who's shown their face again...

Make sure your messenger gets this to you:
Your words to me, "such a pretty, smart girl."
Bet you weren't quite counting on this.
I'm always one step ahead; events unfurl.

Everything is streamlining now
though incipiently, present: my confusion;
and your every last word, action
dangling my brain in pure stupefaction.

Strum that last chord on your acoustic
and I'll kill another vein;
the despicable mind games will never stop --
vigorously getting you out of my heart again.

Curious; why can't you seem to stay away?
An email containing one thoughtless surprise.
Involuntarily seen; absolve your inquisition,
my greatest release will be your demise.

Know the notebook will never leave my hands
where all your secrets lie deep within.
Par for the course, though you should know;
the blood makes for such pretty words, my sin.

You'll never comprehend how hard I fell,
how much I loved you; a sickening scene.
And how hard you broke me, unfeeling --
pretty red dreams, albeit serene.

And yet, your ineluctable hold on me
suffocates my breath, demeans my soul; then
make me suffer until I beg,
and watch me falter to your lips again...

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