Only the Heartbroken

Love.

Oh, what a cruel trick we’ve been sold.

She lures us in with promises of comfort and protection.

Loneliness a thing of the past, with its friend, rejection.

 

She entices and consume us,

As we in turn absorb her.

We allow her intoxicating fumes into our lungs,

Swill her ‘round our mouths like top-shelf whiskey.

Lick her up, don’t miss a single drop.

Suck her pipe dry.

Huff her like paint thinner until our insides start to disintegrate and die.

 

Soon we cannot live without her

Toxifying this body, my home.

But she tires of us, like we tire of her.

Only, while we are left desperate, clawing, craving more,

She still holds her original sinful allure.

 

Her sensuality, as her currency.

There is nothing I would not give for just one more night.

But for what?

Hope.

The delusional, manipulative cousin of Love herself.

 

We play Russian roulette with our emotions.

With Love, the gun.

Just a sweet little game we play with our hearts.

Bang bang. You’re dead.

That was fun.

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I am deathly afraid of her.

What if she sneaks back in?

It seems the whole world’s ensnared by her.

What if she never comes again?

 

Only the heartbroken know her true face.

The wolf that lies beneath her obnoxious charm, and waits.

I miss her facade oh, so well.

I’ll eat the apple. I’ll never tell.

 

Serpentine she spirals up your body,

Wrapping you up in her warm embrace.

She holds you tighter than you’ve ever been held,

You’ve never felt so safe.

 

Pierced with venom, sickly sweet,

You swear you’ll live like this forever.

Apple candy. Rotting teeth.

She promises,

“I’ll never leave you, never”.

 

She’s the drum in your chest.

The flush of warmth coursing through you.

She’s lightness at its lightest.

She’s double rainbow just for you.

 

She’s that grip in your groin making you feel reborn.

She’s inspiration, and adventure,

She’s comfort, she’s home.

She’s neurones firing and falling in lust.

There’s a party in your brain and everyone wants to fuck.

 

It’s chemical. It’s opium. It’s self-made heroine.

I’m withdrawing from a memory,

An addict of connection.

 

Please love me.

Beg the victims of love obsession.

Please love me,

Or drug me.

Let chemical love rid us of rejection.

In Love & On Medication Space To Grow Medium

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