42. wronged love


and we can’t even fight properly.

have we lost that ability or did we never have it in the first place?
and our mean words are pebbles, small, insignificant; each hit a vague pain somewhere in the nether regions of the heart, but tell me, is our love not strong enough for boulders to be flying, for pain to be immense, almost insufferable? 

I want to
lie down somewhere and suffer for love until
it nearly kills me

i want it to take the whole of me. i want to have no mercy and recieve no mercy back.

and every time we fight, sparks fly but the fire never ignites.
and every time we fight, there is no anger, just sadness, scaring us into oblivion with the thoughts of losing each other. the notion of how life would be if we were apart, different people loving us, needing us, prepared to die for us; breaking hearts.

yesterday everyone found out about us.
i didn’t like that and we fought, fear eveloping us like misty green haze of jealousy.

and there was no anger, only wronged love.

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15 responses to “42. wronged love

  1. moondustwriter

    Love and all it’s aspects are intense. The silence, the sparks…

    Nicely done my dear
    hang in there

    Love your friend who writes in moon dust

  2. still hanging in here ;)

    moondust love :D
    xx

  3. We are taught by our thought that feelings are true
    Unless they interupt the lives of me and you
    And what is love’s fight about
    Our selfish doubt?

    Thank you for your comments

    This one is very true to home

    Ravenstooth

  4. I’ve had these types of fights too… nothing productive, nothing resolved, no satisfaction in venting… here’s to hoping for better days

  5. The dilema of the poet…we have to feel it all and feel it completely. Sparks don’t ever seem enough, we want an inferno! Beautiful words and an all too familiar feeling. xx

  6. This is beautiful!

  7. This poem affected me the most from among the rest. Especially the line, “I want to
    lie down somewhere and suffer for love until
    it nearly kills me”.
    I relate so much to that feeling of sacrificial love. Very cool.

  8. thanks so much (:
    i appreciate the time you’ve taken to look at my page and i guess all love is sacrificial, because you’re willing to sacrifice that little part of you that wants to be alone.
    as to the line, that’s a actually a quote from “for desire” by kim addonizio.

    here it is in full:

    “Give me the strongest cheese, the one that stinks best;
    and I want the good wine, the swirl in crystal
    surrendering the bruised scent of blackberries,
    or cherries, the rich spurt in the back
    of the throat, the holding it there before swallowing.
    Give me the love who yanks open the door
    of his house and presses me to the wall
    in the dim hallway, and keeps me there until I’m drenched
    and shaking, whose kisses arrive by the boatload
    and begin their delicious diaspora
    through the cities and small towns of my body.
    To hell with the saints, with martyrs
    of my childhood meant to instruct me
    in the power of endurance and faith,
    to hell with the next world and its pallid angels
    swooning and sighing like Victorian girls.
    I want this world. I want to walk into
    the ocean and feel it trying to drag me along
    like I’m nothing but a broken bit of scratched glass,
    and I want to resist it. I want to go
    staggering and flailing my way
    through the bars and back rooms,
    through the gleaming hotels and weedy
    lots of abandoned sunflowers and the parks
    where dogs are left off their leashes
    in spite of the signs, where they sniff each
    other and roll together in the grass, I want to
    lie down somewhere and suffer for love until
    it nearly kills me, and then I want to get up again
    and put on that little black dress and wait
    for you, yes you, to come over here
    and get down on your knees and tell me
    just how fucking good I look”

    beautiful, non?

  9. exquisite, thanks for sharing this!

  10. oh.. that darn snake that curls and seeps down our spinal cord, choking us slowly without realizing it until maybe it’s too late.. i love the burn of anger because at least i know i’m alive, but the times when it’s just a sad haze.. those are the times i fear i am not awake enough to see what is really happening.. great write.

  11. anger is beautiful but that green haze of pain also tells a lot. i didnt realise it then, but that’s what makes a good relationship a great one – the ability to hurt silently for fear of hurting anothor…
    xx

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