a bottle of wine, $7.99
and triple sec too expensive for me.
I don't deserve nice things, you see.
you'd think I'd make less sense, but I make more.
That's the curse under which I was born.
Let me explain:
I'm not sad, I don't grieve. I don't miss her or cry.
Without her I am perfectly fine.
But life is a choice and I choose to love.
It's not forced. It's what I have done.
Nobody made me love anyone.
I chose it because what else do I want?
Life is meaningless. I have to find a purpose.
I decided when I was young it was romance.
I'm not interested in money beyond what it can do for the lovers I hold and heap love onto.
Fame is fickle and it scares me to no end, and there's only so much you can do with friends.
So love it is, propelling me in all ways. I get validation, hope, success and praise.
I get a warmth and a feeling I'm doing the right thing. I'm inhuman, it's transactional, it's not interesting.
It shouldn't surprise me that she crosses my mind. I don't like to fail and we walk a fine line.
But I will not be insulted every day.
I give her a chance. But there's games I won't play.
Do not mistake me. My love is a choice.
I like your eyes and hearing your voice.
But if you double cross me and I see no point, I will discard you if you give me no choice.
I wish it was otherwise. I wish that I cared.
But I am a monster. And I am prepared.
If the worst problem I face is knowing you love me, I will cut you off in half of a heartbeat.
I speak honest when my blood is tainted. I think you can retract those theories of sainthood.
I will not miss you as much as you miss me.
That is my promise if you double cross me.
YOU ARE READING
Assorted Poetry
PoetryI had a vent account on Poetizer, but it went paid, so I had to save the poems here. They're not particularly effortful, just vomited prose, but I had nothing else to do with them. They may be added to, or not. Largely not too graphic, but there is...
