Baby,
you really do me in
with those full, curved lips
whispering butterfly kisses against my cheek,
breathlessly uttering lullabies
you hear soulmates murmur at night
And I've noticed how you just can't seem to fuck off
But your eyes are sick with star-dazzled dreams,
twinkling like Christmas lights on New Years Eve
I hear those words,
so beautiful on the tip of your tongue
before it slides into my mouth once more for another taste
I can't see it;
I can't see anything
past the slapping of flesh
against my weary thighs and my inner core
Ask me again,
why these sickly eyes are so dead inside, darling
Isn't it obvious?
These slashes on my skin aren't just my own, babes
Alright, fine,
I'll put the gun down just for you,
but only because you're stronger
than my brittle bones could ever be
This infection
is one microbe away from festering, honey,
and I don't think you can save me this time
I'm like a plane in open air waiting to smash myself
into one of those pretty little buildings;
it'll be 9-11 all over again, sweets
So wrap me up in crushed velvet once more while I'm down and out;
let's see how long it lasts this time now that I'm sober
And I hate to tell you this, but,
that night I wrapped myself around you so tightly
like a scarf in a blistering snowstorm,
I was high on morphine, babe;
some bastard drugged me at that party
I could never have let you get so far in with those
corrosive fingers of yours had I been coherent
Don't worry, lover,
it's not your fault
You didn't know how completely ruined I truly was;
no one did
There's a hole where that thing called a heart used to be;
a pathway I covered up with fake plaster
You ripped down the makeshift fix like a carpenter
tearing down a corner store to build a new one
But, honey, I'm not a house,
and you can't rebuild something that's falling apart
And yet,
the way your hands pull my hips to yours,
like a train crashing at midnight in the throes of disaster,
and how your lips find their way to the bare flesh of my neck...
Baby, my knees quiver just thinking about it;
and I almost let myself believe that maybe, just maybe,
it's possible for someone as deteriorated as I
to meld together and become something brand new
And I know
it's the hunger for affection talking;
when I let you have your way with me
just to feel something real
That teenage hormonal pull is what drives me crazy, baby
Because I know you're just another horny boy looking for a pick-up
And even though I get my brains fucked out every night,
that doesn't mean I'm a whore
The lullaby of disillusions that spout from your lips
is like a spectacular public fountain, babes
Where'd you learn that trick?
Trust is like a bullet to the brain; remember it
I learned it the hard way, choking on the habit
like the little white pills my mother swallows
How could you expect me to believe
such bitter lies, darling?
Don't you realize how truly damaged I am?
Those butterflies other girls get in their stomachs when they're in love...
the acid in mine chemically scorched them alive
And I simply can't believe that
the manwhore of the city
would choose a lowly city girl surviving
in a rundown apartment with an addiction raving mother,
and a one week out of the month pedophile
who are supposed to love their daughter genuinely
Don't ask questions, sweetheart,
you know I can't deny you
while that damn voice of yours works on my guitar strings
You play me like you know what songs I sing;
those raw screams of torment,
and the sobbing of a small child no longer innocent
Baby, how can you tame me so easily?
This can't be true love,
could it?
The sheet of ice I've covered myself in
has left me frozen;
he tore out my heart like a plumber
working a clogged toilet,
gouging out my chest with just his bare hands,
and leaving me
with that soul wrenching agony you feel
when there is nothing else
You see,
I'm a punching bag, sweetie,
or a fucking bag,
whatever way you want to look at it
This star-crossed love you've found with me
is doomed to fail;
it's like a distant shriek of terror
among those gut-wrenching cries of ecstasy,
and this razorblade ragdoll is about to stitch up her last abrasion
But I chose my own fate, babes,
like a prostitute just trying to save someone else
How can you save me from myself?
And as you pick up
my near bloodless body into your arms, darling,
you'll see my deepest confession
marked on the insides of my wrists
That pitter-patter heart attack beating in my body
was what was keeping me alive
And although I fell for you against my better judgment,
this living vertebrate in my womb isn't something you'll ever want to live with
And I don't think I can handle having my step father's child
Author notes
Option 1.
The radio told me to stay.
A reply to outryder's poem.
http://allpoetry.com/poem/3333258
*bites lip*
Okay...so this poem will never be as good as the original I lost, I'm kind of irritated with the last stanza...but I'm so tired. I've been working on this for way over two hours now, and I don't think my brain has the capacity to spit out one more unique, un-cliched, original line.
I was originally going to follow your poem's form, but I just don't have the patience for that now after blowing my entire night trying to write something fabulous for you.
I hate that I can't make this absolutely perfect. I'm sorry for that, darling...Maybe I'll try again at some point...
Edit.
I changed the form and a few lines; took out some words and put in some new metaphors. Hopefully this form works well for the poem. I wanted to add a metaphor after the like, "And although I fell for you against my better judgment" but I don't know if it would fit well there, so I left it alone.
I hopefully this turned out better than the first attempt to rewrite this piece...thought I think you're a lot better with the form than I. It doesn't quite look right to me...and by that, I mean I was trying to follow your form.
In a list
A contest entry
- Hold me, and tell me we'll burn like stars...(options!) by LearningHow2Smile.
700 points, ended September 10, 2007, 13 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 16 of 16
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You defently send the message that everything is not what it seems from the outside in your writtings and realate it to the real world as such that people are way stronget then people assume and can make it to the top and be something even when the world is against them.
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no comment
i didnt have the intention of criticism,yet i was only trying to tell you that you wrote something which is marvelous and since its marvelous you can write to the world something else and better,it a complement if you read it right but i guess that i disturbed you with my comment anyway take care and my bad am so sorry... -
no comment
i think that our way of writing is familiar in a way of thinking but different in how we use words,read my poem {ABORTING LIFE,WELCOME AUTUMN}and you will know what am talking about.btw interesting work i loved it but you can do better... -
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I thought you were trying to criticize my poem without giving an pointers. Since that wasn't to case, I apologize.
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I can do better? I'm sorry, but I don't appreciate people telling me I could do better when they haven't even explained to me why they think that. That's not what you call a proper critique.
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Dazzling;
This piece reminds me a lot of my poem "Sadistic Satisfaction" ... only, you take it a bit further than I did. xP
In any event, I've been gone far too long to put any kind of "helpful" input in these phrases, so whatever. *hugs*
It's beautiful -- enough said.
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Awww, hon', I'm just glad that you've come back now. 
Nothing else matters.
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This is a very intense piece, it seems to hold a lot of anger and hostility towards the lover. I think you have done a wonderful job! Keep up the great work!
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Thank you.
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Such beautiful words.
I'm sorry for the lack of reading your poetry but I had to read this. Anyway, your writing is just as wonderful as when I left it. I feel bad about missing out on your wonderful words.
The poem itself is filled with so much agony. It's sad that she doesn't realize how much he cares. Then again, considering the circumstances, it is understandable.
Damn my comments suck.
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This is phenomenal, I'm terribly sorry to hear of the fate of the original version of this, but I'm sure I'll read it several more times before this is said and done, so feel free to edit it if you remember something that was lost, just leave me a message that starts with *edit* in the author's notes,
And yet, the way your hands pull my hips to yours,
like a train crashing at midnight in the throes of disaster,
and how your lips find their way to the bare flesh of my neck...
Baby, my knees quiver just thinking about it,
I love those lines, that's what dirty pretty is about to me, right there, saying something so beautiful that it had to come from tradgedy. I'm not big on how the language degrades in one of the stanzas, "fucked" drops twice in one, followed immediately by "bullshit" but the rest of the poem makes up for it.
Liberties taken, yes, but plenty given back. Excellent write and good luck! -
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Well, considering that I was delirious by the time I got where you say the language degraded, I wouldn't be surprised. I'm going to read it over and maybe change a couple things...
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