Arctic

I anxiously awaited the return of the trust my inconsiderate acts had dissipated. Jaded, I fell from the sky like the most pathetic shooting star. You were the most noble king by far, like a majestic butterfly, I clipped your wings and caged you in a jar labeled by my deceit. I was your Idi Amin, as I robbed you of your civil rights, and made you shiver through all the sleepless nights. I was the thorn that pricked your finger when all you wanted was to kiss a rose. In the throes of love, you were blind to the venom I hid from you, like the meaning of words left undefined. I protected my own heart and kept you confined. I cheated and then resigned, played the victim as I insecurely proclaimed that I refused to remain a pawn in your wicked game of Chess. I should confess that I watched you undress, naively removing your layers of mistrust. I am ashamed to admit my undeniable ability to commit, even though it was you all along that brought beauty to my life. You painted with vibrancy on my body, slaying my strife. Reds and greens, and aquamarines, so vivid and enchanting. You introduced me to colour when all I had known were blacks and grays, portrayed a world devoid of pain when all I had known was sorrow and gloom. I locked you in a room and made you sleep from toiling endlessly and pricking your finger on my cursed and vile loom. You were in bloom but my dead weight made you wilt. Spilt your blood, then drowned your hearT in my melodramatic flood. You assumed it was a disaster natural, but it was all planned, like the birds and the bees by which you were conceived. Relieved, now that you see the wickedness that I concealed. Your wounds will eventually heal while my stubborn pride will always feel, resentful for having loved and lost. Thrown into the fire, like a penny tossed. Engrossed in you yet subdued, made obsolete like the silent era film star upon the invention of sound. I am lost again although I was once found and homeward bound; certain that your Mona Lisa smile would make my world go round. Our fortress was sure to fall as it was founded on frivolity and lies. Candy coated, yet bittersweet, delicate and fragile like your heart's tender beat. Now I am forced to accept with insurmountable guilt and pain, that the coldest winter weather will forever remain, giving me chills and freezing my bones yet it's still insufficient recompense for the emptiness of being all alone. Spring has never sprung in my subzero heart, the Arctic's hollow winds despair and tear my world apart. You should have listened like the others from the start, and ran faster than your legs could bear. Instead you risked it all and took a chance, stared into this Medusa's eyes. Nefarious misery loves company to warm its frigid heart, pierced by my dart, you will eternally remain the most cherished prize of these opaqe, yet sullenly conniving eyes.

Disease.

There comes a time in all of our lives where we must decide to flee or fight. I fought so hard and gave you the stars, stole the sun's light from wide and afar. I made amends, disassociated myself from idle friends, but in the end, dissonance reigned triumphant as the sole trend. Now I flee, create oceans where there were none before. Your opinion of me is sad and oblique, I know my worth and have a lot more in store. My future will be filled with kings and queens, I will be royal as I am majestic in my own right; blind in regards to you, but I still have my sight. You robbed me of the years in which I could have made my own mark on this world. The wasted time is equal to the oysters that failed to deliver pearls. You were the straw that broke this camel's back, under attack, I regroup and long to paint you black. Ebony like the heart that hides within your shallow chest, possessed by the demons of my past that puts you at unrest. Your presence in my life was similar to that of the most sombre crow, always failing to follow your own advice, the rules that you would dictate and bestow. Like Marilyn Monroe, my life was cut short by your endless scrutiny. The irony of it all is that you and me could have been a masterpiece. Van Gogh's brush strokes could not paint a vision quite as bright, until you hid me from the world behind a veil, and clipped my wings as you envied my gift of flight. Choking on the truth, I struggle to regain the self that I lost in the fire. My autonomy gone, I contracted a social disease, yearning to be desired. Empty now, as I poured myself into your trough, I cough, wheeze and huff in protest as I have had enough. Married young to a tyrant that dictates when I sleep and eat, I hang myself from my white flag in silent, grotesque defeat. I would much rather take my life in my hands and walk the street than continue to be the malodorous stench that you excrete. You treat me like the backdrop that merely sets the scene even though I played the lead to your mere supporting role. I refuse to be consoled by your hands that lack hygiene. Obscene and crass, you continue to harass and eat at my self-esteem; like the most torturous dream, you made me wake up in a sweat, praying to God to help me forget. You forged my name, pricked my finger then let me silently bleed on our brand new life. Damaged now, I pick up the pieces of me that rotted from my own self-pity and neglect. Bathed in disrespect, I hide my face in my hands and avert my gaze, avoiding the media as you accused me of murdering our love. Push turned to shove for the last time, your supreme reign is over, I am your last war crime.

Forsaken.

My tears fell from these eyes for four long years, and still you've yet to claim me as your prize. I did handstands for you, cartwheels were not enough. You called my bluff, and sent me running for the hills. Still, I am yours for the taking; my heart is breaking as my body is aching for your touch. Like a crutch, I am bound to you like paper to glue; you make me feel brand new. Renewed, I reach for your hand, hoping you will see that I am your man. I waited, counted down the days until you would realize that I was your slave. I would wipe tears from your eyes, and steal the sorrow straight out of your heart if only you had acknowledged my love from the start. I was here for you, near to you, yet you still pushed me aside and refused the truth. As my youth faded, I came to see, that our compatibility was too much to refute. Still, I got the boot; kicked to the curb like the ash from your cigarette; I don't function anymore. I am not a whore, no Jezebel; your secrets I will not tell as long as you come under my spell. I am the one that loved you first, fought your logic with reason, yet you imprisoned me within the walls of my own regret; charged me with treason, refused to circumspect. I am no longer a child, I grew colder and old. You failed to shelter me from the storms of the Arctic cold. I redeemed myself through liberation, born free once again. No longer mundane, I soar above the skies, looking down on loves lost, stripping you of your disguise. You were a wolf dressed like a sheep, cheap to your core, hardly hardcore. You denied me of the trust, the love that I was deserving of. Push came to shove, and I cried for the last time. Like a mime, I silently displayed the defeat I felt from being excluded from your pathetic elite. Our Eden failed, as our train derailed, sending me shivering, shaking into the forests of my own nightmares. Like the most crude millionaire, you sold my soul in exchange for some air. Gasping for breath I beckon my death, hoping that you choke on the life that you forsake. I was your shrew to be tamed, instead I was maimed. I cried out for justice, hoping you would rescue me; you left me alone, in bad company. How am I to remain ensnared by your charms, when you have chosen to disarm those that refused to ring the alarm? I wash my hands clean of you, no longer afraid to run carefree within the sun. I was the one that loved you best, but instead you chose the path of the rest, and pushed your knife deeper into my loving breast.

Temptation

You were forbidden but you made my heart smile. One look at you, and I was hopelessly beguiled. I gave into temptation, you were the queen's tarts. I am hoping that this infatuation soon departs. I am intrigued to say the least, you are a feast for my eyes. As the sun rises and sets, I am certain that I will not have any regrets. You gave me the gift of clarity, the grass just might be as green and carve a path that leads to prosperity. No vanity, just lust, this attraction is much too robust to toss to the side, like a broken doll. Enthralled, I fall further into your web, causing confusion but I hope that it never ends. But instead, I know that we will be become the best of friends. Your intrigue lies in your carefree attitude and includes the many moods of your humble stew. I want to hold your hand and show you how to be strong, it has been too long since butterflies have danced along with the lyrics to my life's song. A day spent with you is like a thousand nights sublime, you can be my partner in crime as we lock ourselves away, in a prison of our own. Like a bird with a clipped wing, I want to nurse you back to life and make you my everything. I see you hurting yourself and it hurts me too; knowing that you are full of potential that is left to be pursued. Hold my hand and follow me into a land where we can be free, devoid of distractions, but full of interaction. Let our bodies join as one, as I teach you all I have learnt under the burning sun. You just might be the one, but I am too much of a coward to accept it. So instead, I embrace the inevitable rejection that threatens to devour me whole. You should be my moon high above my sky, the one whom I turn to at night to say goodbye. Tale a chance, make a bet and root for me; I can fill your world with endless ecstasy. But until then, you will solely remain a friend. I will help your heart mend, and help you transcend this idle state that others fail to comprehend. We will walk together, racing toward a common goal. I can see us growing old, watching our future together as it unfolds. My heart is filled with cowardice and sadness for the risk that I must take, but I would much rather swim in your provocative lake than make another mistake. Doomed for an eternity, to wallow in a pool of my own self-pity. You rocked my world, like an electric guitar; like the mandolin, your classical beauty is the only excuse for the amount of attraction I feel as the walls fall down in my own personal Berlin.