Distorted, Divine, Dewelling, Driving, Didache, Directors, Directional, Directory, Dancing,
Inclusively, Interlocking, Intentions, Intensively, Intentional, Internationally, Improving, Ideological's
Spiritual, Somnolence, Swaying, Stereotypical, Shifting, Slumbering, Spanish, Speaking, Spiting, Sputum
Tongues, Typically, Timing, Trances, Thoughtful, Throughout, The
Reactivation, Reasoning, Responsible, Responding, Rotating, Royal, Resources, Remembering,
Apostolic, Apollo’s, Ascension, Admissably, Associating, Admissions, Anything, Asunder, Abyssal, Asymptomatic
Cathedrals, Catastrophically, Catalytic, Coercively, Creating, Corrective, Communion, Communicating
Throwing, Tables, To, Tabloids, Telling, Time, To, Turn, Towards, Twelve
Ideally, Immediately, Intimidating, Intimacy,
Opinionated, Opaque, Obligations, Opening, Operations
Negotiating, Newness, Netting, Noticable, Needing.
Divinely directed. Intervention intentionally inspected. Sweeping serving, sections. Transforming thoughtful theoretics Reasonings reasonably recession. Always accumulating assembling. Considerable concealing confessions. To the True. Identifying identity. Overflowing overgrown. Noticeably noble nifty needs.
About the Creator
Charelle Landers
Published author, (A Serious of Unfortunate Events, pen name Jessica Wright) and mother to six wonderful children. I find that writing is a healing passion of purpose and the ultimate pursuit to happiness.
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Dear Love
Dear Love, Hello is the greeting, and I am so tired of our informal meeting. It’s like I notice that you keep leaving me. We are now faced with these abandoned cries. I keep listening to your foretold lies, and you keep me thoughtless in my malicious mind. Your touch is oh so craving; your actions are just misbehaving. The secrets you make me keep, the encompassing of the decomposing times of random meets, the secretions you make me leak, but the tears you make me weep, I cannot phantom the ghosting that causes the haunting when you leave. The heart you make so weak makes you easier to seek. The brokenness and did I mention the depressive mind traps of my mental state? The grieving of this loss, the not knowing the cost, the social manipulation of a love that’s always bought. I give, and you take, you leave and I break. I sense the one-sided affair of this relationship, so I hate. I enjoy the tripping, the argumentative encroachment of your sexually harassed agenda. Always loving just my inner, entitled to the feeling, you give me nothing in return besides the crying on my pillows. You keep cheating me out of you. I cannot enjoy our youth; they say it’s better to love you while I’m young because I will hate to know the lustful truths. Darling, why do you hate me? You’re always out to replace me; I give you the kind of love that you never want to take from me. You keep robbing me of myself, beloved; you’re just bad for my health; your desires I cannot speak of because of my language of love, so it’s shelved, waiting on someone next. So goodbye sent in text, but the images I cannot forget. I still scroll through your pictures and remember you in my bed, but I try not to regress. I still fight the fight of one day, noticing that you haven’t left. The seduction of your time, the poetry in my lines, the greatest love of all comes from seeking the divine, yet you still have left me open, romanticized, and hopeless. Crying tears of resentment, but you will never notice it because I keep my options open.
By Charelle Landersabout a year ago in Poets
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