Love is a Gentle Suicide of the Soul

Love is a gentle suicide of the soul
Mending and breaking
Eating away over time

Losses piling up
All of it weighing heavily on you
Trying to find the right one
Only making it worse

Chains binding you tighter
With the teasing lust of another
Struggling to get free

You aren't able to piece your soul
Back together
Holding the shattered pieces in your hands

Thinking of giving up love
So you won't suffer anymore
Hoping all will be right

Is to be of Desperation

Is to be one of
Desperation

Over the longing
of something
of sentimental Value

To hold it tightly
till near crushing
blow

Longing even more so
for the
cradled warmth of
a held tight fear

Unleashed through mouth
Words now sought for

Wrought in the mind
of the despaired anger

Fought till the grasp
of a hand
cut deep, bone shown white

With the sharp love
dripping cold, pooled
under heel

pursed tightly the soft
essence of touch
between tongue and teeth

recedes back into the
folds of reality

Desimated is the conscious
of the dreams washed

Fades to black
photo perfection sharp focus
Lost realms in solitude untold