This Is Not A Love Poem

This is not a love poem for it is typed with needles that poke holes in my heart

Causing it to bleed a flow of words

"No use crying over spilt blood"

For instead of landing next door to your heart

My blood drops splater onto the hungry ground

And they evaporate into the air just like the love that was once born in your heart.

This is not a love poem for instead of sweet melodies I hear volcanic eruptions of raw fury

As we pounce at each other like wild carnivores over a piece of decaying flesh

Verbal grenades trown with so much pleasure that even Hitler would be disempowered

This is not a love poem for my dead soul is trapped in my living body

Slowly decomposing me from the iside out

The utterings of my mouth have turned into worms.

You‘re disgusted, the mere stench of me brings last night‘s supper right back up your throat

This is not a love poem for love lost its worth when pictures of deceit were painted upon your sheets

And my self respect is non existent fo I continue to long for one who‘s so unappreciative of my loyalty

And like a whore I surrender my body to a man who feels not an ounce of emotion for me

This is not a love poem for when you were here I suppressed all the love poems that tingled in my finger tips

Yearning to be recorded on red–romantic paper to be mounted upon your wall

I succumbed to my fears and let them fade away and now I‘m fading away from your memory

Like a song so meaningless it may as well be silent.

This is not a love poem for my here heart stands; naked and exposed...unsafe.

This is not a love poem for reading it you only feel harassed. Not loved.

So this is not a love poem. -mbali mbatha