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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Personal · #2203702
A song of frustration
I put you on repeat,
Like a song I am trying
To learn the words of.
Your large hands grasping my ample hips,
I wonder if
In this moment too your mind is elsewhere.

I have sent you these messages of hope
Like you are space bound
For bold new worlds.
Messages of hope until
I see the word hope
And cringe.

What you have failed to understand is that
I have loved all of my life;
I am good at emotion,
Dare I say reckless
With empathy,
And I have lauded you with hope
And meant it
In ways that you fail to grasp.

These aren't just empty words
I am incapable of empty words I fill them
With fucking hope. . .

I like you
And I want to destroy it
Because you are just more of something
I cannot fix.
You are a pattern
That I need to break.
You are wrapped so into yourself
That you will never see me.

“I want you” I said
“Then have me”, you mumbled
With sleep still in your voice
Those large hands on me;
And i took what i wanted
Because you couldn't know
How I place my worth
In my ability to please.
How I wrap up everything I am
In my ability to gift someone
With my belief.

You couldn't know that yours
Were the only hands in years that seemed
Half way;
Just halfway,
Like they wanted to touch me.
And I presumed the half way
Because my worth was tied up between my thighs
When I was too little to understand
that it should have been in my hands,
My soul,
My eyes.

I am tired of wasting time on you
Like a sudoku puzzle
Like the angry man at my desk
Like the hope I pour out
And you volley back,
like it is nothing,
Like it is breadcrumbs.
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