Cold lover,
The warmth from your body burns my skin,
Every hug leaves me with blisters,
Spread across the tissues that hold my existence.
Crude lover,
Your words cut deeper,
Than a butcher man's knife,
And they twist and turn,
As they stab the chakra,
That keeps me whole.
Angry lover,
The rage in your eyes,
Commands fear from the darkest pits of my mind,
Sends them spiralling into a hurricane
Starting in my living room,
Tearing through the kitchen,
At the expense of the furniture I own,
That's already falling apart.
Sweet lover,
You bandage the wounds from your words,
Ice the blisters from your warmth,
And erase the fear brought by your anger,
So I won't stray away,
Or leave,
The confines in which you've held me hostage,
Held by the powerful chains of your lies,
As they leave me begging,
For the obsession and addiction,
Your eyes instill in me.
YOU ARE READING
To The Introverts
PoetryAt the unforgiving eyes of the world, I lay here with a pen in hand, To write about the secrets I keep, The untold stories of an introvert.
