The Bite


Such candid emotions
They bite at your skin
Nipping and teasing out the truth
Un-gentle persuasions
So close to true pain
That know the answers before they are given
Shaking out falsities
Like a dog with a bone
Whose teeth will never blunt
And eyes never tire
But the last laugh is yours
As the agony of withdrawal builds
For the simple reality is this
They could’ve just asked

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This notion of emotion is milking me dry

This potion, this lotion it just makes me sigh

Plastering my body in what makes me my

But my’s not for sharing and that is no lie

So here in my corner with darkness I’ll fly

Constraints I am cutting, for me time to… die

Touch

Memories form at the end of cold fingers,

Skin on skin, but not the same.

Where eyes once looked up defiant at heaven,

Below in retrospect, they now creep.

This is not how it was supposed to be.

This is not what he promised.

Being touched on the skin is as nothing

To being touched on the heart.

She pauses. She thinks.

The tears won’t lubricate her skin,

But their tactile passing is a reassure.

Tears won’t wash away the pain

But they will clear the view.

50 Word Stories: Teenage Trials

The problem with anger was it wore off. Sorrow had limitations, too. Only indifference had the virtue of being inexhaustible. One could remain indifferent with contemptuous ease. The only problem was it made one listless, which If locked in your room drew anger and sorrow back. You just couldn't win!

All

Objects 010

All there was
those flickering midnights
and crackling fires
those moonbeam notions
of perfect love
two lives entwined
tied with string
sprinkled with infinity
and eternal moments
beckoning, always beckoning
eyes in the darkness
lips in the light
hearts joined in beating
as one
always as one
where fantasies met
more besides
yes, all there was
was you

Cold Comforts (Life’s Dance)

The cream smoothness of her skin enchanted,
A pale portrait to her quicksilver eyes;
Metallic and sharp, alert to observe my every detail.
Bowing, we interlinked fingers; hers were gloved,
And moved across the dance floor with acquired finesse.
Effortless, she travelled as though on ice,
The same ice that permeated her being, her soul.
How long must you frequent someone
Before realising them frosted through choice.
We parted with barely a smile, much less a farewell.
She judged me right to the point of departure.
I judged myself from the moment I chose her hand.

Kicking Concrete

Back against the wall heels kicking the concrete,
Head down, thinking, dreaming.
Sunglasses hide the eyes, grey like the day;
They can’t look up.
They want to, but they can’t.
The question: is she looking?
Is she?
Wanting to smile,
To say something,
To stroll across the road with the confidence of a grifter
Take her in his arms, seduce her.
But the road is wide,
Too wide,
The distance immeasurable
To a boy with his eyes on the ground.
He kicks the concrete and walks away.

Written whilst listening to Strange Kind of Love by Love & Money.

That won’t be one many of you know. ;p