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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2210252-Love-is-Bitter
Rated: E · Poetry · Emotional · #2210252
a slam poem I wrote.. not to sure if it is good.
Love is bitter

love is bitter like dark coffee, and clings to the tongue until it's brushed away.

Iv had coffee made to sweet, cold and undesirable when the warmth leaves it, and more milky white than the dark bitterness.

And still I crave it..

He is all lust, desire is hot in his bones. it spreads up his childish grin like a red-blood fever, I hear it in his laugh, when he hides his blush in his hands with his boyish smile, and I see it when he moves his hips. like is all the world only revolves around him. Wrapped in sun kissed skin, and gleaming eyes that hold honesty and hope. His eyes are like the color of rain; sad with a bit of pain, from his childhood monsters that creep into his mind at night when all he wants is just a bit of peace, But his eyes are also like summer; bright happy and warm. His eyes are doe like and sweet, and I think of his eyes more than I think of anything else.
For a man so wrapped in desire, I don't think he has ever felt love..

But I crave him..

Iv seen the marks that he so desperately tries to hide. The ones brazed upon his skin, All of them scared there, like a permanent pen.
He is like a rose that doesn't get picked off the bush because of his imperfections. Cause no one wants to take a hold of his roots and check his petals for bruising. But sometimes the saddest smiles contain the most love. I don't mind his scars though because they tell a story of his own, And I don't mind his scars because they are a constellation of beauty marks that litter his skin.
Hopeful things.

And still I crave him.

He once told me that it was surprising that I am still with him, That there are so much better people out there for me than him..
And I think about the kind of monster who could make another feel such a way. To make him feel as though he is worthless... Unloved... The very ground that we walk on.
To make him feel as though his life is nothing..
What kind of monster could make him feel as though he should be dead..
He doesn't understand that he is wrong, that there are people out there that like him, he doesn't understand that I want him to be alive, that he is worth everything that I have and everything I don't have and then some.
He doesn't understand that there are people out there that love him....
That I love him..

He is right about one thing though, he isn't enough, and he will never be just enough,
because to me he is so much more than that.
He is what I dreamed as a child when reading stories of princes and high kingdoms.
He is what I envisioned all those times I was asked what I wanted in a person.
When I daydream of my life as an old man, I dream of him by my side holding my hand, saying 'I love yous' because he is the one that I want to grow old with.

He is the one that I crave..

He is sturdy and strikingly handsome. His jaw is sharp enough that it puts diamonds to shame, and a smile that brightens the darkest part of myself.
Yet he doesn't see this..
He doesn't see that his smile makes my day brighter than the sun, he doesn't see that his eyes are what I think about before bed.
He doesn't see that his smile drives the next beat to my breath, that it makes me sing,
it makes me focus on his lips.
And when he smiles, his eyes smile with impossible beauty.
But he doesn't see the beauty that I do when I look at him,
And not just look at him,
But when I see him.

He is graceful..

And I crave him.

I don't like to stay in his bed.. as he curls to close and smells sweet.
And in the morning I leave my heart there on his pillow, and the morning light brightens the pillow with a heightened hue,
But he sleeps until noon, sleeps until the light fades and turns the pillow back to its ordinary white sheet...
He sleeps until i'm gone.

Im told what I have is like a fruitless tree, because once I have opened my heart to him, it could ever be..
But I don't care because how can I give him hope if I have none of my own...
He kills me with every boyish look. that my heart melts and my knees shake.
It's hard to breathe without him because I still dream of him in this one sided love..

I still crave him..

I crave the boy in school who sat next to me at lunch when no one else would,
I crave the boy who protected me from the cruelty of the world..
I crave the boy I saw in his darkened times.. like at the funeral of his little sister,
a kid of only 15 that had to shoulder the world on his own because he thought that he was alone.

I crave the kid who when littered with bruises still smiled because he wanted to be strong.. and he was strong..
He is strong..

I saw the light die in his eyes, and I saw the day that he gave up..
Because how can a person have hope when all the people there to help him told him no..
I still crave him with all of these things because even if he is shattered glass, he still reflects the sun.
I feel the sharp cuts and scratches from the glass when I try to hold him, but I try and try until I can without getting cut because I need to show him that i'm willing to stay even when it hurts.
Because he is my sun.

I crave him because when I couldn't smile at the world around me, he gave me his to borrow no questions asked.
He is my world so now I will smile for him.
And like rain I fell for him..
I am grateful.

Iv had coffee made to sweet, cold and undesirable when the warmth leaves it and more milky white than the dark bitterness.
because when love is bitter, it sits on the back of your tongue and very seldomly do I think of ever brushing it away..

Because I crave him.
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