PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

And there's those occasional nights,

when I assume I know you best

Then you shock me when you say I'm nothing,

because I know you don't mean it in jest.



I fear that maybe I've misplaced my trust,

that maybe I should have been thought twice

The over whelming sensations tingle

as they run across my chest.



Breathing becomes laboured

I'm tired of all the pain in me,

but you can't accept my withdrawal

you have to cause the pain, you have to make me bleed.



Occasionally I believe you care

that maybe your heart was in the right place,

but the way you look at me when we are alone

is too obviously written on your face.



So I break and I cry,

much to your pleasure;

I wasn't built for your abuse,

I can't stand your stormy weather.



There wasn't much of me to begin with,

and there isn't much of me left now

but I'll hit the ground running,

If I can salavage myself some how.