Picture My Life

For Intellect. For Emotion. For Substance.

Posts tagged love

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There’s something about writing that doesn’t feel honest anymore. I sit in front of a screen, fingers typing away on a keyboard, writing an infinite number of words and yet… they’re all meaningless. Maybe writing isn’t as pure as I used to think it was. With all this scrutiny, the fear of sounding vulnerable just turns these words into shallow holes devoid of any significance. I remember once listening to a song just to hear the lyrics, just to feel the tight grasp of the verses suffocating my soul with longing and relatablity. How simple words could capture an emotion so vividly, leaving me a sobbing mess of sentiment. In and out of the context of language came the taste of love and lust, the very essence of passion, all inscribed like scripture. Faith had a definition engraved in bereaving hearts and lifeless souls that found refuge in romanticized jargon and home amidst the chorus of colloquy. Our words have become so far removed from deity that we’ve grown accustomed to calling them politics, so formulated and barren, they could have no evocative expression but to assume the form of dogma.

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Diaries of an (in)sane man: Diary Entry #30


I awoke on my lovers bedside 
Opening my eyes to see the mornings rays
Seeping through the transparent window drapes

My eyes dart around as my fingers trace the memories of the night before
It was the happiest moment of us
Right then and there i knew I was in love
and not for the first time
His eyes like cool welcoming crystal pools on a summer day
A smile like childrens laughter
His kiss sending waves of electricty pulsing though my body

There was not a single moment together where i wasn’t the happiest man on this earth.

That is until the moment he left me.  

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His smile is like the tickle of an orgasm, humble in its approach but wild in delivery. Some days that’s all it takes, just the glimmer of his eyes and the tease of his smirk to have my heart melt with satisfaction. I find myself lost in whimsical pursuit of his affection, yearning for his covet, crimson with desire. His touch itself is the taste of sin, like vice lacking regard for virtue. The feel of his breath warm and heavy against my skin leaves me senseless with reverence. And that kiss of his, oh how to explain such bittersweet sensation, the feel of lingering sunlight on a brisk springtime afternoon.  Countless times I’ve found myself slain in his arms, a massacre of beseeched adoration. How feeble my heart lies amidst his palm, clasped against the grip of envy. He who has captured me and yet, somehow, I am liberated.

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Sometimes I convince myself that I’m in need of religion. Other times sex can do the trick. Then there are moments like these, moments when I feel absolutely insatiable. And although they are fleeting, these transitory occurrences seem to happen more often than not. I’m in a constant search for fulfillment, invariably disappointed by my lack of sustenance. I’m a sinner craving for the appetite of a saint yet loitering amidst the hunger of infidelity. I can’t recall the last time I felt whole, but merely the essence of an emotion I’ve since longed for. This yearning, a burning desire relishing inside me, chars the very edges of my heart. Life has never felt more disastrous, love has never seemed so bare and faith has since lost reprieve. 

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My heart feels empty, lost in this faithless world, trying to find religion. How did I lose so much of myself? I’m constantly battling thoughts of salvation, begging for mercy in the palms of foreign hands. I once found conviction in your arms, now you’ve since betrayed me. What is there to believe in anymore? Faith is nothing but treason on the heart, malice in its deception of such gullible benevolence. And I have been just as foolish, mindfully tactful in a pursuit for creed but blind to its sedition. To think, all this time I’d convinced myself we were making love.

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It was the last thing I savored on your tongue
That left a bitter taste in my mouth the next morning
The scent of misuse and intoxication
It was almost blissful
What I can remember
The serene notion of uninhibited passion
The flow of bodies moving on intuition
It was something like a reflex
No thought could interrupt
The last thing we wanted to do was think
To poison the moment with guilt and dread
We used everything but our minds
It was animalistic
Unrestrained or subject to verdict
Like a feasting of needs
Devouring the inner cores of one another
Diving too far into the abyss
We found ourselves drowning
Somewhere in the midst of drunk love
Inebriated by the nostalgia of thoughtless retribution
Sensitive to the desires of our aching bodies
Yet tactless in the way we satisfied each other
We had no boundaries
No margins to conform this inclined high
It was like magic
Outgoing and savage
Consummated by the thrill of sobriety
Fleeting fervor savored in memories
Influencing only this kind of impulse
Found only at the bottom of a bottle
In the eyes of a stranger
In the bed sheets of untangled nightly lovers

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919 Plays
Somebody That I Used To Know

Somebody That I Used To Know by Gotye

"Now and then I think of all the times you screwed me over
Part of me believing it was always something that I’d done
But I don’t wanna live that way
Reading into every word you say
You said that you could let it go
And I wouldn’t catch you hung up on somebody that you used to know”

(Source: bluesubnumber916)

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