Oh how those hurt boys feel so good
Strong men with little boy hearts
Hurt so good
Yummy
Sweet
Make me cry
Make me die
In the bedroom
I always appreciate
A little tragedy in my man
I’m sorry.
I just need to write a rage, a page in my notebook
about 2 hurt boys who hurt bad and tried to love one another
about 2 puzzle pieces that couldn’t quite fit in the groove of each others twisted worlds
when feelings are involved all things are clouded
jaded, faded
pain swells up on puffs of smoke from your bad habits
and I broke because you broke and we broke the hope to hope
I’m sorry that I have to hate you
but I need to do it right now
get real mad so I can get past the sad and bate you
to have a response because I’m still hurt
I realize now that I confused warning signs for butterflies
and I need to cut the cord
but how to recover from the lies
magic spells, 3 times clockwise I yell
“I release you from me. I release me from you.” Let me go. I let you go.
I’m just trying to live my life.
I think
“I wish it never would have happened.”
But I rescind and begin again
because of the gifts I’ve received from the hurt.
I have moments-
Is this how we age, having moment after moment?
heartache, realization, a war to wage?
Do feelings get stronger?
Does this past go away…?
No, not go away,
but lessen?
become more bearable
Hark: “I am ready”
I say
And I get the scissors and cut free the links that bind us.
I feel relieved.
Empowered.
I’m finally good
I think, and I am for a while
But then the liquid runs shallow in my half full cup.
The sadness grows
the lows reel me back in
make me think of you:
bipolar, cute, sad man-boy, uncaring for fashion and clothes,
gap-toothed, baby- faced demon
holding my heart like a pacifier
Do you know what you do to me?
Oh how those hurt boys hurt so sad
Strong men with little boy hearts
Hurt real bad
Slumming
Stunning
Me like prey
Have their way
In the bedroom
I always lose myself
In the tragedy that is a man
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