April 15: Love/anti-love

The gauntlet; Succor; Stale blood; Another loveless


The gauntlet

Obsession is a blind spot that seems to erase memory, and
forgiveness is like a salve bleeding all over my heart’s stinging cuts—
but necessary in the game you and I play to be willingly blind: always so
tempestuous, first promises then the moon ripped from the sky, and
it was just the first arrow shot on the battlefield, in jest, where much worse
would be said and done: because retreat was ever out of the question…

I am in over my head, I’ve lost my wits—
the game was played for love, but I’m not sure that’s what it is,
because what I feel goes beyond affection, it is addiction and a thorn
in my side: love is a desire to succumb to this sickness – love is to die.

Infatuation is a curious patch, leaving me dazed and mesmerized,
as yet untouched and wishing forgetfulness; our dance was serious,
but so light-hearted – it became a part of me, unless I would stop it—
and I did in the end, but the feelings already dug in their roots, and
no matter how I tug at them, I’m deadlocked in a fantasy, where
our innocent fiction turns to reality…

My love has bitter resentment planted at its heart, I
keep thinking that my course has always been set – but too late,
I realize I know just about nothing and love isn’t singular; it
overwhelms me: now my love has split, oozing its thick blood over me.

Denial is a symptom of my distasteful condition, when I find a place
to curl up and wish away all that has happened: I found comforts
in your touch like in no other, but that well was already parched—
your love was a decaying cloak of faded affections that I cherished,
ink running on a page left out in the rain – I always wished that I felt
differently, but I knew that someday soon the illusion would end.

The love I carry is imbued with cruelty, my sorrow has become a callous
whip to crack over the innocent – my forgetfulness rooted out more than
what I felt, but my ability to judge fairly what slaps are deserved went, too:
love is blackness in a heart of stone: a poisoned treachery I give to you.

Passion always comes after there is nothing left to love,
but it happened that it suddenly took hold of me without warning—
I let love slide by more than once, thinking myself undeserving, but
before long I was once more infatuated: such a pretty face, so dark and
just as arrogant as what I love most: a tainted flame to my yearning
sensitivity – where I live in inky black, that flame was desire itself…

But love is of more than the flesh, love is a spine that thrusts deeper—
where I sought a connection I found only a boy asleep; a fool, where I sought
a tormented goodness to soothe: this one never had a rogue to find and twist
around my finger, he was as hollow as I am – we’d have been such a match.

A cloud of sadness can be as infatuating as unquenchable passions
that burn through resolve, so I found myself trapped in a mad dream—
where being eviscerated was the touch of deep affection, where
lack of commitment was a gem – I was possessed and possession,
a stereotype to dress and coddle or make to suffer – because I asked for it,
I thought we’re such a good pair: you are broken, and I desire despair…

My love is sorrow, my love is shared pain, my love is always being
torn away; dysfunction is the trend, arrogance my style, I follow it like a
thing on a leash, until I’m forced to break away – when chains are bonds
and love is bleakness, there’s nowhere else to go, no more price to pay.

After the gauntlet is run and I am left a shell of what I was, I thought that a
little forbidden taste could not hurt of someone too good for me, but I found
myself obsessed: coming full circle, we have a shared pain, but instead of that
being our focus, you actually tried to love me – a feeling I always felt I can’t
quite remember since those first battles, nor the surge of passion I thought only
came disconnected: and I am a fish in the net now, hoping I won’t regret this…

Love is a double-edged blade that’s cut me however I swing it, though love’s
suffering eventually had to reset to factory settings – but memory
can never be wiped clean: the burden of what I’ve done and felt haunt me, all
locked in a treasury where my dragons sleep – inside this love I intend to keep…


April 15, 2014

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We were secrets to one another,
a cherished rose with only a few thorns visible,
and a chasm of imagination kept us apart—
we stared long and thought our bridges
fell a little short, but there is always a chance
when speaking in hypotheticals: maybe
we need a little warmth, perhaps we
could innocently look at the stars; but mostly
indulgence was on our side, when
fingers of madness played stark tunes on my mind,
talking to you was my sanity check—
love is wondrous, a good liar who traps us, love
is selfish – and your succor was an elixir
that made me feel complete:
when you think of it that way, it took no bravery
to take the final leap…


April 15, 2014

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Stale blood

Blood is a current flowing from dark places
and carrying embers of life, the force
that moves me to want to feel your blood:
in your lips, hot with urgency,
in your chest, where it keeps your heart
throbbing with feeling—
but it is also blood that runs bitter,
blood that runs cold
and blood that betrays me…
my flush is anger and profound sadness
for my blood you spill so callously,
and it is that lack of caring that fuels me
to keep my blood inside just long enough,
before the darkness comes, just so that
I may have vengeance
for the innocence you slaughter at a whim, for
the love that seeps gently into the sheets and
trickles away across the floor…
but I’m afraid that I will never have that
satisfaction, because the job isn’t done until
my last breath has left, so you keep stabbing—
if I knew what was beyond this moment, I
would set to haunt you and kindle in you regret,
but I know that I am powerless over you; but,
your importance dies quickly: it is my life
fading that matters… and it is not the pain
that kills me, not the wound, nor
the angels of death that come for my soul—
it is the humiliation of being killed
just because what we had grew old…


April 15, 2014

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Another loveless

I knew love the second you turned away,
and the moment I felt something snap—
now there was a void in me where you used to be,
nestled there without me even realizing it; and
now you take a step or two, hesitate, and I
can’t help but hope that it’s a simple misunderstanding,
that a quick fix can clear it up – but even as I call to you,
you never turn or even look back; that
was the moment I knew that I did, in fact, love you
and when you left I became loveless…
it’s a title I’ve worn before, and I said I’d wear it
for you, too, if you wish it – up until someone else
picks a spot to settle down in my heart, then everything
shifts again – new things to watch for, someone
new to try and keep close; but know that a part of me
always keeps up an empty space in your memory,
where the strings were severed, the bleeding stemmed—
and I will keep the title you bestowed on me – and try
to forget that I ever loved you.


April 15, 2014

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