Anne’s No Rules Friday (Poetry Edition)

A/N: I’m going into the vaults to share a poem this month. I wrote this when I was sixteen and wanted to feel grown up by talking about a thing I’d never experienced, which is probably why there are so many awesome clichés.

I.

My body aches for you.
It cries out to breathe
In your scent once again.
Fingers long to brush
Against tender flesh.

V.

I pray for nothing more
Than to see you burn.
I would gladly dance on
The smoldering pyre
Of my wasted love.

II.

While you hold her tightly
Naked against you,
I reach out for empty space.
I touch the cold face
Of Death, as you kiss
Her warm lips like Life.

VI.

Don’t ever come back here
With new promises
To lure me back into
Your dark filthy bed.
My heart is empty.
My love’s long expir’d.

III.

You turned me away to
Taste forbidden fruit
From another’s body.
Your little goddess
Lies where I once slept.

VII.

Under the moon’s cold light
You betrayed my trust.
I’ve become another
Fucking notch on your
Bedpost full of them.

IIII.

Crumpled sordid blankets
Attest to my sins.
Blood & sweat stain my sheets.
Innocence lost on
A sullied pillow,
And you without guilt.

VIII.

Still I desire you.
Your kiss burned my lips.
Sweet fingers bruised my skin.
Your eyes adored me.
I’m everything and
Nothing without you.

A/N 2: Poetry is a talent that I never have possessed. I would, however, like to point out the AMAZING symmetry and mathematics involved in this poem. Because math matters. Also, I love how I capitalized random words. “IIII” is actually how the Romans wrote “4”, and I was taking Latin at the time, so it seemed like a good idea. Please share your bad poetry with me. We’ll laugh. We’ll cry with laughter. It will be cathartic.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Stay tuned for Julie’s No Rules Friday in two weeks.

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About Anne ♥ Marie

YA author-in-training and servant of folklore and myths from around the world. I love great white sharks, languages, and the impossible.

2 thoughts on “Anne’s No Rules Friday (Poetry Edition)

  1. I think you’re right. The poem doesn’t feel authentic, but as always your math is impeccable.

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