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Wise, Cold Heart



Wise, Cold Heart
By poetry_goddess on 04/09/2008
Viewed: 453
Reviews: 1
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A virus crawling into my bodily crevices, nibbling the feminine curves
Until I am unsexed, like the wife of Macbeth, and like her, becoming a force of rage
But ‘tis better to be devoured by loneliness than to seek love from those who wouldn’t merge
Rather than outstretch one’s hand to those who threw you away, sit and be consumed by the flames of the cage

To once more stroke the black stubble, kiss the fleshy lips, exists only in subconscious
To be embraced in virile, caramel colored arms to produce the warmth not felt since before birth
The memory of the caress of rugged hands against the delicacy of mine so onerous
And the dampness of his soft palms as he held mine makes my heart’s chambers tear apart even worse

A parasite of those chambers he is, having plunged in with probably frivolous reasons
Not comprehending that he stood on my pink horizon, that we strolled to heaven, hand in hand
Well now, despite obvious yearning, these deserving lips of mine shall be used for merely eating
Heart shattered, now its humane love traded to the devil to be mended by sinful pride, finally a deal on which to depend

Standing an unclothed embryo in the midst of harsh reality, expecting Prince charming to be rapidly replaced
And, so vulnerable, I kneel down to God, the one who listens without criticism, and demand the purpose in his mind
To dangle my desires in front of my hopeful, honey eyes is a shameless crime, exuding laughter from him, though I cannot see his face
Well now, against the forces of my nature I shall trudge and cross over into the dark, the cold, unfeeling grass of the other side

I shall bathe, splash and laugh in my newly unattainable affections, reap in the consequences of my cold stare
I shall be a raw fruit, not tended nor brought to an edible glow, for I will never be eaten
I shall bestow kisses on no one but my kin as I let down, merely to tantalize suitors, my glowing, chestnut hair
And no, not even by his flattering, “R” rolling tongue will my will of stone be beaten


© By poetry_goddess On 4/9/2008 10:16:19 PM
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