It's late at night. I'm feeling awful about something that happened a few days ago, and I wrote a poem about it. I'm posting this now cause I know I'm going to absolutely hate it once I wake up in the morning (as is what happens with all my poems. I'm most emotional late at night) Anyways, here it is:
I hate what I’ve become
This slave to this feeling.
Your feeling.
Your bare back.
Your lips.
You say you love me,
And I say it back.
But I know deep down
That I’m just head over heels in lust with you.
Have I really managed to lie to myself enough
To make me think we could work?
I don’t love you in the least bit.
I love your flesh.
Your feeling.
I want it to stop!
I can’t close my eyes at night without thinking of those few crazy minutes.
The “love” we shared.
Those feelings.
Your feelings.
God says the Devil will flee if I resist him.
Well, it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it.
Every night,
Every hour,
I feel like I’m being carpet bombed with these lustful thoughts.
All of which can be traced back to this one thing.
That feeling.
Your feeling.
I don’t think I can get over it.
The horror of these temptations.
Because I know that in an instant
I could be back with you.
Doing the same stupid things.
“Loving” each other in a physical way.
A sinful way.
Sharing that same feeling.
Your feeling.
God, please!
Help me!
I’m trapped.
I feel awful.
Sinful.
Unworthy.
I can’t escape my shame.
I’m a slave to this feeling you’ve cursed me with.
This sinful feeling.
Your feeling.
Tell me what you think. I'm trying to figure out if I might have any poetic talent of if I'm just some loser sitting in bed on his laptop hating himself.
I hate what I’ve become
This slave to this feeling.
Your feeling.
Your bare back.
Your lips.
You say you love me,
And I say it back.
But I know deep down
That I’m just head over heels in lust with you.
Have I really managed to lie to myself enough
To make me think we could work?
I don’t love you in the least bit.
I love your flesh.
Your feeling.
I want it to stop!
I can’t close my eyes at night without thinking of those few crazy minutes.
The “love” we shared.
Those feelings.
Your feelings.
God says the Devil will flee if I resist him.
Well, it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it.
Every night,
Every hour,
I feel like I’m being carpet bombed with these lustful thoughts.
All of which can be traced back to this one thing.
That feeling.
Your feeling.
I don’t think I can get over it.
The horror of these temptations.
Because I know that in an instant
I could be back with you.
Doing the same stupid things.
“Loving” each other in a physical way.
A sinful way.
Sharing that same feeling.
Your feeling.
God, please!
Help me!
I’m trapped.
I feel awful.
Sinful.
Unworthy.
I can’t escape my shame.
I’m a slave to this feeling you’ve cursed me with.
This sinful feeling.
Your feeling.
Tell me what you think. I'm trying to figure out if I might have any poetic talent of if I'm just some loser sitting in bed on his laptop hating himself.