deepundergroundpoetry.com
xlover
I put my heart in my threnodies. that’s what the poets say.
of course we do; where else would we put a pitiful thing
that’s been used & discarded?
a poem is a desolate scripture on paper –
it burns easily.
the walls of my solitude are built of sorrow
because I’m alone & I’m lonely.
and your walls, your walls made of metaphors, have you
chiseled my name in them, to remind you not to love?
you wore the ropes of my madness, & found a maligned bliss,
some decimated euphoria. in that place where you want to be
loved, it is always night.
this is how I am made, to abuse & humiliate.
there is charred tamarind in my kiss,
and peppered coriander in my spit.
romance’s outlaw, women have named me;
I move thru the breaking of hearts.
it’s a troubled & petulant affair
when love translates to fucking.
I show my greatest affection when I beat her –
I think of you….. and I beat her…
(Artist unknown)
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