I lost a foe. An endless rate to beat.
I lost a friend. How false that leaf was to be.
A broken bone suffers no pain compared to that of thee.
A swirl of love and hate composed to be.
We never met. I made you up to who you were to be.
I lost the only one with the reality of thee.
Under you I discovered the truth.
Under you in my mind, I want reality to stop where it means to be.
Start a new. Under different rules. Under you is where I want to be.
Hold me tight. Smash way it all with ruthless stones.
Hold me tight old lover, Lost friend.
Why couldn’t you be, thee?
Hold me tight, stab at my skin.
Beat me, kill me, forever you will win.
Stab me, stab me, cold within.
Oh heartless soul let me in.
Damn you I deserve to be in.
Damn you I never win.
Beat me, stab me, bruise me, kill me.
Let me into your hollow cave.
Forever I will hold bare,
The beating pulsing through my body.
I told you that wretched beating thing will always be yours.
Oh stab at it, kill it, no more pain can it feel.
Holes, scars, death, oh diseased the filth it is to be. Is to be.
Is to be. Oh wretched soul caress thee.
Love me. Love me. Love me. I beg of you.
Treat me. Treat me. Hold me. Tease me.
Beat me. Stab me. Kill me. Treat me.
Love thee, love thee, love me, I love thee.
King, king, spare my soul. My heart is yours.
My body is limp, no longer pure. Please accept
Whatever is left. Mourn the lost of a lover kept.
Have you read any of Sylvia Plath's poetry?? If not, you should and you'll get what i'm trying to say, if you've read some of her work then I think you'll get what I'm saying.
ReplyDeleteWhen I read her poems I feel so depressed even if I've been having a great day or if I feel like my life's pretty okay at the moment. Her words are simple but she gives this image or feeling and she presents it slowly, kinda dragging it on but at the same time not.
That's kinda how I felt when I read this one, only three-fold. This poem is full of emotion, and it's all anger and confusion and it has a faint sound of stubborness. I read part of it and literally had to stop and read it later again, because the language it's so...strong. I like this poem, and yet I hate it, which I think is good. And with this one I don't have a fave line because it feels like the whole thing is a stream-of-consciousness deal where it's all one.
Thoughtfully,
Alma