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| Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 18-June 03:47:39 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 100498
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => The Lust That Could Kill Pt 2
[time] => 2005-07-07 21:43:53
[hometext] => This is kinda hard to understand. It's really a sequel to another poem that I don't feel like posting but I will eventually. It doesn't need the first one to sound good. The parts in parenthesis are flashbacks or memories.
[bodytext] => He sits with his eyes to the floor. He knows why she took those pills. The empty bottle is still clutched hard in his grip. The plastic crackles in his fist. "I don't love her, and she knows it." Does he have remorse? Is he sorry? He knows what went wrong. This girl was fragile, although she acted tough. And she broke under the pressure he forced her into. Although she had to learn sometime. Had to learn that sex is not love. Sex is a fun game. It can mean something. But mostly nothing but a pacified feeling. Now she knows why people use her and maybe she'll understand why they can't love her. A flash of white before his eyes and she's there, standing before him. The white hospital gown flowing and dragging behind her weakened body. Her hair is loose and tangled, blood etched along her face. She must have lost all strength when they pumped her stomach. (They kiss and her body is lowered onto the bed. She closes her eyes as he fingers the out line of her figure. Then with gentle movements he undoes her clothes. The action between lips has suddenly halted and inside, her heart is beating faster than ever. A painful kinda fast.) Dark brown eyes that were once full of life have dulled and are wet. She stares down at him and mouthes out cold words. Venomous words. He doesn't see anyone but her. The white walls and ceilings swirl and become nothing but her face, bleeding and crying. Pale white. Her skin barely has color. She reaches for his shoulders and presses all her weight into that hold. He can barely feel it, her nails are digging into his flesh but all he feels are her eyes covering his soul. Blackening it. (He undresses her softly and plants a kiss on her sweet lips. She makes no effort to move. Never has. Yet everytime he gazed into those warm pools of chocolate he wondered what she was thinking, he could always see the pain. She was young, innocent and beautiful. Not untouched but as fine as a fresh peach. All fruits go bad. Then he's on top of her, and the world for both slips away. Faster and faster. Reaching down just to go a little harder...) He stands before her room. The girl is asleep and the nurse casts him a questioning glance before leaving. She is sleeping. Not awake. Not moving other than the ups and downs of her steady chest. Tear stains mark her face and her arms are tiny and childlike. Tubes decorate her body and moniters clutter beside her. A worn arm moves slowly and begins to rip away the tubes. She sits up and gasps in horror. Eyes Bloodshot with terror. Like lightening she's at the window and scraping the glass like a rabid animal. It opens and she takes deep hollow breaths. He watches carefully, predicting what she'll do. She hoists herself up to the frame and attempts to pull her body through but stops. Head turning and teary eyes fixed upon the doorway where he stands quietly. The girl lets go and slams against the hard white tiled floor. Her mouth trembles and he runs to her, scooping her into his arms... (He awakens and finds the other end of his bed empty. He's up in a second heading towards the bathroom, where a stray light flickers on and off. It's empty in there. No presence. His lover left it long ago. The mirror is smashed and glass has splattered the floor along with a few bloodrops. Blood. An empty bottle of drugs carelessly tossed nearbye.) The bottle bursts in his hand and plastic scatters onto the floor as he cradles her in his arms. Her breath is soft and gentle. But she turns away from him and he feels the coldness between them. Her eyes bleed before him. Almost screaming for him to go. To leave. He hurt her. And that's what she feels. He awkwardly stumbles out of the room. His own heart bleeding to death. He sits with his eyes to the floor....she'll never learn. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 210 [topic] => 31 [informant] => Inevitable [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => StoryPoetry )
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