Envy In Love

This can be about people or objects.  Something you hate while love. You envy something or brings you pain.  Real or story.  Only new writes and up to two per person.  Any length.  Have fun

http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f248/jadepandora/days%20of%20wine%20and%20roses%20small00.png
Ambush('d)

A love afar I couldn't touch...

Who told me everything
I wanted to know
but never asked because
he always told me before I could.

Then went beyond.
Revealing much more
from the roadkill of his past.
Leaving nothing to the imagination.

What every part of his maleness
loved to do;
the pillaging
of every part of a woman.

Ambushing me in the moment.
Annihilating the intent.
Leaving me supine on a desolate road
silently begging for an ambulance,

while all his words tasted
like blood in my mouth,
bringing out the nurse in me,
and then the animal.

Each time, I wanted to be included
but I wasn't qualified
because I never knew his pain.
The abuse and the sick of his life.

But I knew love, and I imagined
if I could be that kind of sick,
to share in its dysfunction;
the days of wine and roses.

A love gone twisted and putrid,
one-sided
and
envied.


https://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/256395-ambush-d/

http://i1347.photobucket.com/albums/p703/aragornr/Love_as_the_Source_smaller_zpsmncepuiu.jpg

Love as the Source

If I say I love
then feel hurt
I’m confused
about the heart
rejection pains
loss inflicts
envy spites
loneliness same
these are not
love’s embrace
so confused
by ego’s tricks
by lust’s urge
each so false
the truth concealed
of life’s heal
love is the thing
revealed at last
if there is hurt
do not expect
you will find
love as the source.

Meša Selimovic is credited with a quote that begins with “Everyone says love hurts, but that is not true”. The poem “Love as the Source” is inspired by his words.

I Hate Jade Pandora

I hate Jade Pandora
Because
She’s a better poet
Then Me

Seductress with words
Making love with verse
Her words light fires
Underneath those who read

I hate Jade Pandora
Because she isn’t
In love with me
So let me suffer
In tortured envy

Note: I really don't hate Jade,  In fact I'm one of her many admirers.  So please be poets and don't take this literally.

If Only We Were Enough

You tilt your head back for so few things
but drinking, really drinking, is one of them.

I loved the language of my first real sip
the soft chime of the cap unscrewed,
metal scratched against the neck,
angels intoned as the liquid collided
with the ice in a glass, cold meeting heat
for the first time, a simple metaphor

my first drink appeared in romantic drapery,
my eyes sang as beautifully as Ella Fitzgerald
faulty circuits were re-wired, sparks from teeth
lit up my mouth in electric convulsions of burn
and for a second, I believe the introvert died,
this strange thirty-something reborn in explosions;
Jesus would have understood the come back

I'm sure.

Looking back, I wonder about my affair
with the greatest fuck-up I've ever known;
I think of scotch hidden in the bottom drawer
that I sip when I think nobody is looking,
the bottled I-love-you I sniff in ritual
when my blood gets too much to bare

I don't often remember who I am when I drink
but for a split second, I fulfill a longing
to be abstract, to be away from all of this.

I wonder about the woman I kill silently
on nights of bitter introspection, my demons
sitting patiently on my shoulder, whispering
their guilt into my ear as I whet my chalice

and wait.

The Torment

Please don’t torture me like that anymore,
I’m afraid I’ll implode at any given moment,
You invade my every conceivable livable thought,
I’m overwhelmed with this unbelievable torment.

But it’s the kind of agony that I relish and cherish,
It fuels the fire deep within me to the core,
An atypical mystical miracle mythical charm,
Drowning me in anticipation but I want some more.

It drives me right to the edge of madness,
This belief’s a bittersweet double edged sword,
Wanting and waiting and taunting and baiting,
The relief seems like a dream arisen and soared.

I’m hooked to the affliction, it stimulates my diction,
I go with the flow though I know not thence or whence,
It just fills me with that pulsing impulsive addiction,
The kind of blind passion that builds up suspense.

It’s a titillating torrid tale told teasingly to tantalize,
To fantasize, to agonize over this delicious anguish,
Sending me to the depths of my creative imagination,
Lingering in a deep trance where I refuse to languish.

So know if you stop stirring and spurring me like that,
The inspiration is in need of that everlasting torrent,
By the guile of your smile there’s a tinge of machination,
As if I’m meant to suffer from it I also love the torment.

They say hi to me
They say good by to me
I envy them
I see them in new houses
I see them in old houses
I envy them
They see me in my open sate
They see me in open spaces
They envy me
They see me with little  stress
They see me with open love
They envy me
Envy i have it and so do you .

Paradise

What do I envy?
The playa vista life,
those great clean
heavens in the sky
apartments where
happiness lives.

The place where the
vivid atmosphere is
nothing like the ghetto
environment that living
in South Central controls.

How I wish I could just
wake up one morning
overlooking Los Angeles
instead of waking to another
section eight view.

Silicon beach they call it,
where technology meets
modern living, rubbing
elbows with big minds
and ambitious talent.

I am a living contradiction
to my people, I am all
about climbing the next
step, and for what it's worth
I have yet to forget
where I come from.

Where I come from is the
same place where I live today.

My outcome.

Green Eyed Monster

You don't even need eyes to see
neurons fire, synapses snap
and focus is just another word
in a stream that you stop to drink from
skip a stone from bank to bank
and carry on
I wash clean
oblivious to all
but the ripples
as they tease naked flesh

Love as They Call it

why do I cringe at the mention of
wife;
of husband,
of marriage;
couples,
taking selfies of them kissing and putting it as their profile photo is one thing, but the mention of matrimony is nearly like sacrilege in my small and crumbling brain

i think maybe i'm just scared;
scared of love as they call it;
scared because eternal love seems unreachable
and a lie
so many things have turned to fragmented formalities we pretend to believe
I want to believe
but instead I watch the moon from the back seat and think of crying since my dignity won't allow me to do it here

Another couple starts dating:
one second of innocence the next intolerable bliss
and all I can think is,
"if they don't break up in two months I don't want to openly admit I belong to this world any more"
because are they actually that dumb to think they can last longer than a year or two or 3?
do they think, that such listless Instagram posts of their "perfect" I hop dates amuse others and deep down amuse themselves that much?
Maybe I'm wrong and naive
I seem to be a lot no matter how much I despise myself for it...

but I swear if anyone tries to even whisper thoughts of marriage in my ear before I turn 23 I might crumble into saw dust
promptly after flipping everyone off

Thank you to all those who have written for this competition.  Great writes.

My thanks to host Jacqueline for the opportunity in this competition that inspired some wonderful expressions, and to share the podium with the winner, sister Missy, with my congratulations!

--Jadey <3