deepundergroundpoetry.com
She Was My Muse Long
she was my muse long
ago for years. and though I
chose to destroy the 50,000
negatives of her since
then, that candle will always
burn in my heart. I loved her.
for all her needless fuck-shit that
I dealt with, she was a goddess.
she was a keeper of Time
incarnate. she was bigger than
life itself. she was inspiration to
my discipline of art sake. she
captured my soul and made me
pay the price. she had no clue
about this, but she enjoyed
the awards ceremony.
I never should but then I did
and people all told that I would
be in sorrow, and that was the
all truth of forever. I died many
times to escape the truth of
it all. chains were my salvation
with her mind. living as a slave
to her mind fuck toy boy do me
or fuck off genre game was
more than my mother told me
I should deal. I loved her.
ever always leaving a scar
on my soul that unto eternity
I carry to the next sphere. it
creates great pain in me to
this day and always will burn
a hole in my heart's memory
that adds to my disgust and joy.
my fears thoroughly were bathed
in that passion sweat on fire.
days of lust unbeknownst to
me even after all who preceded
her flesh of evermore.
she was a wizard of lost bliss.
a deceiver of platitudes
unspoken. all too often not
of anything that remotely
resembles devotion or
honesty. nothing that
comes close to giving,
or compassion or safety.
not a speck of human
being, but not quite the
devil incarnate, maybe.
I loved her.
she left me hollow
in the end. she enjoyed it.
she thrived on the extreme
pleasure and the extreme
pain she gave me freely.
it was a theatre absurd in
the all sense. I cast off all
shame of it. I write to give
indulge from it. I learned the
most valuable lessons from
it. I have lived through it.
still, her blowjobs were not
the best ever, but after a
thousand of them, so what.
I loved her.
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