I still feel the echoes of your friction.

The sound of fiction.

Your fingers in my brain
Feeding my contradictions.

How many times I had you in my belly all chewed up?
Your words all skewed up
Poking on sticks
The fatty pump you blew up


Remember when we used to be all texted up?
High on dopamined lines
Footprints and notes in close circle
Ravenous rhymes,
The nails in my coffin

My nails in your thick skin
While your body sinks in mine
Skin to skin,

You crept up like a sin…

…in my mind

Penny for your thoughts…
Or is it a dime?




Above my thighs lays your crescent
Your face held high
Fills up my frame
Locks of brown hair,
My hands locked tight on your crown,

In your voice, notes of caffeine invade the air
Knocked me out like a mace,



At. Your. Pace.

Dripping down my mane
Morning dew up and down your face


Remember when our storm brewed up?
But love, look at us, we’re all screwed up!

Or is it a crime I still pray at our shrine?
Down on my knees as I grind?
What are the fees for lost times?
Where is it that you go and leave me behind?





Remember all the letters we threw in?
How they taste on your tongue when we were kissing

But love…
Our red thread is worn out

What was it all about?


16 replies on “The day I decided to stop loving you

      1. Then write on and survive, love! Nothing is worth enough to just give up. I see pictures of a little one on your blog… just those eyes are a motivation 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

      2. I’m sorry you’re going through a rough time, but if that text spoke to you or helped you in any way… I’m happy, it really came from the heart…

        Liked by 1 person

Make your voice heard

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s