Another Wasted Love

Step outside. Feel the cold my love. My one.
Look towards the sky, above yet gone,
is the one thing we've waited so long for.
Time to know one another. Time to hold each other.
Time to fall for each other. Time to feel one another.
Dry as the air we inhale, is my lonesome heart.
Taking more in, only becoming further apart.
Oh my god, let me love her until my mind crashes.
Pick up the stakes, drive them into me, creating gashes.
Frigidness overcoming my self control.
Sending shivers down my body, you save me from the cold.
Your arms around my waist. Your hands gripping my ribs.
Lay your head upon my skin, as my body shifts.
You try to rid the cold with the warmth you hold.
You're shivering, she says. Lips unable to move.
Right after this girl, I will accept the rage of depression.
No way of communication, I show desolation.
My heart crumbles beneath the body of nothing.
You're not here keeping me up. Crumbling.
These few words rip my throat apart with aggression,
as I slowly fall into the heartfelt trap of depression.
Soon unable to speak from continuous weep.
These words haunt my mind, continuing to reap.
My eyes grow fond of the printed paper.
A photograph containing beauty, I hold my temper.
God, these hands contain rough callouses.
Working the shift for you, I realize instances.
Her love controlling my love of you.
Makes me ask myself, if my heart of you, is true.
But dear Lord, enter thy heart with your presence.
Show me you're here. Your very existance.
Crusted puss ripped from this scab.
Only to re-open this wound that drips of mad.
Trickle. The infection passing as the blood flows.
Over my skin, the acid begins to slow.
As my skin twists and tuns, so does the blood.
Crackling. Flaking off of my awful cut.
Another wasted love, unable to think of.
The sadness is too much. Lonely again, cut.
Another wasted love, unable to think of.
The line continues through past my throat.
Another wasted love, unable to think of.
Causing cold blue. Here, take my coat.
I can't go on. Stop writing she says.
My love grows old. Today, no more love.
Another wasted love, unable to think of.

Reviews

[!!..Love..!!]

Dear no love, no poem can ever be wasted. Often I see a lot of good writers write about the wastage of their love and their writings. But that isn't true. For you it may be wasted but its always cherished is someone's heart and this is the biggest suspense of life. You always know for whom you are praying but you never know about the person who is praying for you.

[turtlegirlluver]

This is a strong poems that shows your emotions very well. I can relate to parts of this. If something happened- remember to keep holding on- because somewhere there's the right one for you. Good write!