Baby I’ve Really Got A Thing For You (And It’s Called Contempt)

Love is nothing but a well told lie,
comforts from a broken place bearing
gifts- from me to you, for me.

Dangerous, like a razor blade
under your tongue. A Touch
that needs more hands and kisses
with too many teeth. Emotional insurance,
unnecessary luxury, the promise
everything will be okay.
Even if it won’t.
And before getting better
making it worse. misery that bares no poetry
only regret and blood. Emotional miscarriages.

Desperate, needy, reaching for release,
like gasps of air while crying.

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