I have never asked you for anything –
Because you do not know how it is that I feel.
Or perhaps you do, but choose to deny –
Keeping the later silent, in fear that I’d cry.

You are the harshest man I have ever met,
Though oddly sweet and sadly kind –
I crave your harshness – I view it as foreplay –
Your words like daggers – pinch my soul –

They free the dreamer, causing her to grow –
I imagine things with you, that one should not.
I ponder upon a life, you feel you cannot give.
You say you do not love me so –

I ask you playfully to love me – you always tease
I know truthfully, my heart is in your sleeve.
I wear you like my precious winter-rose
Upon my breast – within my soul

A heart for a heart –
Harsh words threaded with sweet –
A love that was never meant to be,
Yet a lifetime of it.

I sat at the table – engrossed in Poe, once again my friend had failed to show.
A young man sat at the table next to me – mumbling it was the only free seat
I smiled politely and returned to the words, which meant everything to me
Each word alone a magnificent beauty.
I noticed the man was watching me, so I turned my gaze to he.

Twelve hours later I lay on your floor, as you read me poems about the girl you love.
Each one of us became an addiction to the other, each the others ecstasy.
Each week I came and we spoke, laughed, watched vintage films, read words of beauty
And music – there was always music.
Sometimes new, mostly old – my favourite was yours.
Months passed before we met the others friends, we had been so obsessed with talking.
Your friends sweetened the deal – each a soul, so pure and real.
They invited us camping – I could hardly wait.

When I turned up the next day, you looked different – ached, with a look of painful desire etched onto your face.
You said the trip could not go ahead, but pleaded with me to spend the night at yours.
I looked up at you, with my bug-wide eyes, sharing my smile and nodded silently.
I placed on our favourite movie and resumed my position on the floor, while you lay on the bed.
The film ended and you called to me, your voice sad and pained.
“Why do you never sit close enough for me to touch you – are you afraid?”
You slid unto the floor and sat next to me, this poem you spoke was different to all the ones before.
Nervously I bit my lip and sighed inwardly – that one, was written for me.
You pulled me closer to you and kissed me in a way that had never been done before –
It was soft, sweet yet hungry and full of desire. I turned away.
“I thought we were friends,” I whispered while nervously biting my lip.

You held my gaze until I understood, this time, I was kissing you.
You made love to me for the first time that night –
And every morning and night for a year after that.
You had warned me that first night that I would grow bored of you – I denied it.
Now I see, you grew bored of me – my love flowered as your apathy grew.

It’s been some months now since you uttered words of love for me
For a while we remained those friends who spent hours talking and listening – bonding.
We could hear the clock ticking – we could only pretend for so long that everything had not been destroyed.
That addiction, that time-warp-friendship, all that talking.
“I thought we were friends” was the last thing I whispered to you
I never wanted our love, it was your doing –
Now I am the one who holds the burden of  our love, in my heart and soul

You look straight past me -
I knew we should have gone camping.

You will think I write this of you –
Assuming, words of tender love and grandeur.
You will search, with soul-less eyes – for my proclamation –
My declaration, of you.

Assumptions, I feel, a sign of thoughtless stupidity.
I do no write of you, nor sweetly or of disdain.
You hold no possession on my heart,
Your face is not echoed throughout my soul.

You do not haunt my dreams –
Never were the cause of those horrid, bloodcurdling sleep-screams.
Mistaken they all were, you fell for it too.
The possessing you see was of a different kind –

Have you not seen your soul-less eyes?
Ever ponder what happened that sun-gleamed smile?
There was a possession of the heart – not done by king.
No, no! You are full of such sweetly innocent stupidity!

The spell was cast and darkness simmered –
All from one demonic queen – yes, now cue me.
The roll I played lacked nothing – but a returning thud of my heart.
See I took yours – and placed in under my shoe –
You never touched my heart.

The dark is a howling beauty that whirls throughout my hair.
The dark dark beauty and the oh! so familiar fear.
The darkness clawed at my paled skin, yet only I could see.
The dark, he never would like me – only if I had behaved for He.

The first time that I met him, he was standing by my door.
Eyes dark dark and hateful, they instilled such fear.
Speaking to myself in tongues, twisting in my sheets –
A nightmare a dream! A dark dark vision – it cannot be real!

He slinked along the darkness, crawling up to me.
The stench of death and sewers – the end of sweetly innocent stupidity –
Now and for all the tormented years to come, void of sweetly.

The darkness – his clawed, disfigured, insipid being withdrew the light from me.
Only I could see the lustful hate of He! His inspiration, his muse – all lay with me –
This dark and howling beauty that loved me – ravished me – destroyed the dreamer of my soul.
Took my love from me – there is a howling beauty – which instils such fear, only in me.

He would never love me again, Oh, what I did to He! What I did to me –
That only I will ever see.