Taboo

Some of the feelings in this poem are exaggerated to try and make better poetry.

We all want what we cannot have,

that special something that is out of our reach,
but if we ever do reach it, it gives us a warmth,
like someone is cuddling your soul,
But soon they start to squeeze, tighter and tighter,
and that warmth becomes a burn,
but you would rather burn than leave it’s embrace,
Because it is your taboo.
That is what you were to me.

You were something else.
A drug like no other.
You lit a fire in my soul that burned like a sun.
and that warmth was the love I gave to you.
But you were a diamond which shone so bright,
and to you I was merely a match in the Arctic.
Barely able to warm your hands

You were a taboo that I could not get enough of.
And then you left me.
I was forced into a rehab for lust
And was unable to be set free.
But instead of curing my aliment,
It caused it to grow.
The flower of my love was cut away,
But it’s roots grew deeper, became stronger.
I convinced myself that it was gone when it was really just hidden,
Covered by another flower which barely bloomed

I was the casualty of the war of your life,
A wounded soldier who was left wondering what if?
What if things were different?
A question that consumes the soul into the depth of depression
I was left to drown in a never ending sea of hope,
And you blissfully stood on the shore out of my reach.

All I was left with was a scar and a raging hope,
A hope to relive those days of glory by your side.
The hope of one more fix.
One more shot of the drug that almost killed me.
Your tender lips are a drug with which I am addicted,
But I cannot get my fix.
Be the drug that makes my heart pound in its chest.
It beating at 116mph, but still not fast enough to catch you.

You do not see my addiction to you.
I am a friend who was once more.
And soon to be a passing stranger.
I will fade away like the ashes of the fire that was once between us.

I get withdrawal symptoms without your love in my life.
The never ending nights of thought, of questioning,
the firm hugging of my soul,
And the longing, through glistening eyes, of your embrace.
being comforted by a blanket of “if only”

The drug of you has become my life.
And all I want is one last fix of your tender lips.
One last kiss.