Photo by Žygimantas Dukauskas on Unsplash
I want to feel broken, I long to feel used;
Dying to feel every cut, every mark, every bruise.
*
Love is pain, pain is pleasure - blood resembles life in loves abrasions,
Numbed to the pain as loves burn deepens.
*
Desperate to look past the lie in every excuse;
Love isn't real until you can love through abuse.
*
I want to know that he is sorry, that he will come back again.
Afterall, love is a cycle of misuse and reuse. Or, am I simply mistaken?
JX
About the Creator
Jollyoddbod Poetry
Here I am, and here I'll stay;
Like the moon in the darkness that refuses to fade.
Clouds will cover, but cannot take from my reign;
Mark this as the moment that they realise, as they scoff with distain.
They fell asleep, I cannot be blamed.
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