I find no I in we
our minds merged
where does me end and you start?
we’re gonna need surgical precision
to free me from your hall of mirrors
but what if there is no I left in me?
Who is I and what did you do
to extricate I from me?
Am I an abstract thought
reflecting back at us?
though there is no I in us
but a u for you
So, I suppose I must be
the other part of you that makes us we?
Am I a man made in your vision
a puppet on a string
strung out by your historical revisions
hanging out on the clothesline
left out to dry in the rain?
Do the soles of my feet
walk without soul?
waiting to be returned
to the I you carved out of me?
abuse
A deleterious soul
You are a deleterious soul
pushing the buttons of all who dare tread
within pushing distance
of your daily insistence
that you must erase their existence
or else suffer the consequence
of your wrath
dare they breathe upon the same air
dare they leave or come back
on the whims of their own time
Throwback Thursday: Twisted love
Written in 2015
The original:
Your kiss like a blade upon my skin
Naked before you, you delve deeper into my wounds
I don’t know if this is love or hate
But I can’t seem to walk away
I know I should run
But your eyes cut me down to size
I’m not big enough to take the road
I’m just a scared boy inside
Waging a war behind elusive eyes
And your ice cold kiss lays me down for the night
In my ice cold tomb where a soldier lost his fight
And your finger tips like knives
Cut across my skin
Full of sex and full of life
And your ice blue eyes are the only thing keeping me cold at night
This frost is a lesson learnt
And upon a body of curves I trace your skin
Like it’s a map of life
We hold on tight, waiting, hoping, wanting
For a fire to ignite.
Written 2018
Edited version:
Your kiss like a blade upon my skin
Naked before you, I stand betrayed
Cigarettes burning us to ash
I know I should run
But I’m just a scared boy inside
Waging war behind these eyes
Your ice cold kiss lays me down for the night
In my ice cold tomb where a soldier lost his fight
And your finger tips like knives
Cut my skin
And upon a body of curves I trace your skin
Like it’s a map of life
Holding on tight, waiting, hoping, wanting
For a fire to ignite.
Which one is better? Original or Edited?
Like, follow, share.
New posts on Tuesdays
silverbackgorillapoetry.com 