Like twins from birth
I understand most of your thoughts
Always know how to flick you on
Like a match struck together from heaven
Flavoured with the essence of hell
I play with your body indiscriminately
Tickle your emotions and fantasies
And you like it
This game of passions
I am a part of who/what you are
Your ego, personality, passions
You were seeing another and things changed
Suddenly you seemed the sensible one
Our adventures then seemed childish and risky
As you settled for a placid vague life
Where things are not tangible
Where you choke your desires and “needs”
Like the smoke
From dead embers
That once blazed with life
Yet you called our relationship unrealistic
You would give me a wise look
Asking “Where were we headed?”
I had become the clichéd “fool for love”
I still stuck around to my need for you
Because without you
My existence has never made much sense
Then you’d come
With head low
And dignity battered
Begging for a little of what we had
A junkie dying for a fix
I won’t admit to how good it felt
Though I preferred you’d want me
With all your dignity and senses and will intact
Then when we are done with our tango of love
You’d dump me again like faeces
How do you tell me to my face
To go *#@(a swear word meaning “have sex”)@#* myself
In front of a mirror
You think I don’t know how I look
The two horns and cold dark eyes
My bloody fangs and crawly warty skin
You think you didn’t know these
All the while we were insanely in love
Why do you now feel a need to hurt me
Now you call me a monster
Because of your new lover
In the camp of the Christians
You should know how many of them
Play around with monsters like me
But what WE have is real
And I cherish a TOKEN of our love deeply
For a baby monster now grows in my womb!
P.S.: And the monster was delivered
Of a live healthy horrid baby at term
Who didn’t give a care for sentiments
And later became the death of its father
R.I.P. O poor Christian soul
Posted in fiction, love, poetry
Tagged Christianity, consequences, hidden affairs, life, monster, musings, passions, sex, thoughts
Love ? I love love love you. (Photo credit: @Doug88888)
Introductory note: The Enchanted Writer is sick to the bones, and won’t be writing for a while. He is down with the flu. Some who know him as a medical doctor may be asking why he doesn’t treat himself. I met him last night when he told me he caught the virus whilst worrying over occurrences around him regarding people and love. He had always had his idea of what love was, being raised in the arms of the Creator who knew how to love like heaven.
You kicked me in the side
Told me you were just playing
I winced in pain
You barked loudly in my ear
Told me you were just talking
I shifted with discomfort
You gripped me by the arms
Told me you were holding me
I fought for ease
/then you upped the game/
You lied to my face
Told me you were protecting me
I bow in shame
You threatened, flared and raged
Told me you were expressing your feelings
I cringe in fear
You gave me silent treatment overdose
Told me you were controlling your emotions
I shiver in cold
You hurt my body and soul in a fit of emotions
Told me your love was passionate
I cry in regret
I gave my body, soul and life
Told you I loved you
I died in love
Love is sacrifice
Author’s note: I hope my dear Enchanted One does not lose his life until he has found a cure for the lovaster that’s at large!
Word helper: Lovaster –a term derived by standard etymological processes from “love” and “disaster”.
I am crying every way I can.
I am trying to express this on paper every way I can.
Now I am never going to get over this also.
Now I am getting used to the tears of previous seasons gone by haunting me with the turn of a new season.
There were waves of terrorist attacks in the region where I was last winter. The region was isolated from the usual life I had been used to. The people were very different from the people I had grown up with –and not just in physical appearance/resemblance. I was at a new phase of my career. I had moments of fun and all sorts. It was supposed to be a very eventful/memorable period of my life.
But, whenever I look back on that season of my life, I only remember the times I sang to you under the sun’s glory, my headphones booming steadily against my eardrums. I only remember the times I played with thoughts of you whilst jauntily strolling in the evening’s peace. I only remember crying in sweet fondness as I prayed to you in the peak chill of the night’s dark. I only remember waking up in high hopes of spending the new day with you every morning’s bright. Our moments together have become fairy-ghosts that haunt my every recollection of that phase of my life. It’s like I am having selective amnesia; and my memories are being replaced completely with only those that have to do with you. At this rate, I won’t have any have any recollection of my growing up years before I met you. I won’t remember the fact that I spent 6 years of my life studying to be a doctor. Heck! One day, I will probably wake up with no memories of my name or who I am. But, I know I will remember every moment we spend together. Fairy-ghosts now eat up the parts of my brain storing the information about all else, as I remember more clearly only those long-gone moments having to do with you. I am losing bits of “me”. It’s not so much about losing those pieces of information as is about losing the essence of “me”, my past, my experiences, my perceptions of the past. There’s more: it’s even affecting my perception of the present. I am at a function, and instead of focusing on analysing the people and personality profiling, I am thinking about how that function could somehow relate to you; and what I’d do with you; and you showing up promiscuously in the arena.
I am not just me again.
P.S.: And I’ll look in the mirror one day and will see you. You might as well change my physical form to yours. I couldn’t care less again!
To those who receive my posts by mail, this post is a photograph containing all these:
When you find that WOMAN
Who makes you feel as FREE
As though you were still unattached
Yet without “heats” for OTHER woman.
Well, what else are you looking for?!