Love Poem: F*** Love, We'Re Crazy People
James Midkiff Avatar
Written by: James Midkiff

F*** Love, We'Re Crazy People

(If I could spit venom, this paper would hiss.)

I cant sleep,
it's dark and i can feel your memory biting
my eyes are sore with the persistence of it
weeping, rasping, clawing, grasping at my spine
(still too apathetic to grant me the bravery
to walk away and not bend my honest head to you).
I lay uncrowned, and forever in spite of you
cowled, full scowl despite the lovely sight of you
and still that look, the "in love with you", it gets me,
it breaks my will with the slight of you, I'm tipsy, and
it breaks my heart that you'd drive right off forever.

I'd forgive a slight of every type of hue,
but baby this one's past my standards
so let words hail down like falling planets
(where i held you, you were stranded...)
forget my plight, you never cared a damn bit
you abandoned every care you might have had, 
and you preplanned it
so don't play lover now that you've left me scared
because scarred is exactly how the heat will sear
your statistical abuse into my tender heart-strings
recording what was love once, and deserves to be preserved
before every fantasy dies, and love with it burning
to ashes before my very eyes so fast its
turning to ashes so fast,
and I'm dying.

Another slavery for more lies
that bound her hands from reaching out to me,
her hands from reaching out to keep
the notion that maybe i might be someone
instead of just another anyone, like the way
everyone treats everyone anymore.

You bare the soul weight of promising to be different
the soul face for all of my resentment,
the true face of responsibility,
heavy is the head that wears that crown,
and heavy is the head that you let down...
so lets let your locked lips be the end of it
because if you couldn't say something then,
then to hell with love, you had your chance to save it.

I asked you nice through subtleties
to cradle close and safe my heart, a gift bestowed
to willing fingers still playing patti-cake with my emotions
I asked you nice, because You said you loved me,
and I still believed there was some meaning to that word.

My life is one big irony, bitter
like Shakespearean humor, deathly sonnets
heavy fates, and love as truth,
more irony.

F*** Jude, no one will understand this poetry
not one mocking soul can piece two words of mine together
i am the mad man,
but every syllable sets in it's cast stone for reason
i will go forever misunderstood,
i will get on: forever misunderstand me.