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Love is a Stone Cold Killer

Again and again
I'd tell myself
"it'll be worth it."
And I'd believe it to be
Gospel truth,
if only you'd believe it too.

But there I was,
ready to leave,
ready to finally cash in my chips,
the first night you looked back.

I never told you
how close you were,
that it was the trailer or me.
I was there
ready to leave,
to leave it all a memory
until you blinked.

So see I've found
that love is brutal,
and love is a stone cold killer,
and it doesn't really care
who gets hurt.

The first day I didn't answer you
for a certain number of hours,
you ripped into me
and I sat
alone on my couch
with every emotion,
while a cackling demon
I'm all too familiar with
reminded me
"I told you so."

Oh, I looked for work.
I looked for things to do
to distract me from you and her
and the tinderbox bridge I torched.
"Why don't you go and write a poem about it?"
I heard someone sneer.

I've had a hundred girls tell me
"I'll never fall in love again,"
and the same hundred girls tell me
"I love you all the same."
And they do it so,
because love is a stone cold killer.

Still, what is it about you, little butterfly
that withers my Self Esteem?
That makes me hunt aimlessly
and nurse old wounds?

Promises and waiting,
we're so very good
at promises and waiting.
We're so very good
when everything's just a theory.

My old friend Murphy and I
will toast tonight
to whatever, and whomever it is
we normally toast.
Maybe to that old bastard, love.
Because love is a stone cold killer.

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Editing stage: 


I liked this write though it was more of a short story than a poem but others will have their say so I will just go on what I see.
A lonely person not trusting others yet goaded into love for no other reason than it is the done thing.
Another love story and as usual the sadness prevails.
Look forward to other writes from you,
Yours, Ian

Give critique to help keep Neopoet great.
Unconditional love to you all.
"Learn to love yourself first"
Yours as always, Ian.T, Sparrow, and Yenti

They all have faces dont they...
ours in the rearview mirror
driven to drive
to resupply
while the Love sickness
thuds in our chest
we drive by Like Mick Jagger
feeling the happiness

the evening from the day

Some people hunt the prowess
projects gathering their tribes
with sacrificial task
the lust submerged like a creature
the mind like a spirit sliding
in the worlds

Masks said Joseph Conrad
Dreams said Freud

I feel this poem
I went and chased those whose
drum beats rang through the
telephone wires
their voice sotto and petulant
needy and selfish
and I rode the darkened
realms of buses
the mystery landscapes
while some slept and others
read books
the air blowing softly
the growl of the deisel
beneath the bagged deck
the headphones on of a
music cd..

Victory faces and sadness
faces.....the Lust Lost in
abandon faces
the happy shinning eyes
and the instant boredom
gone like the cup of
coffee drunken
the sated and bored
return for more

want for to be THE one
one of the ones...
like binary
one zero one one zero one
no one wants to be the zero
both one and the same

I believe in business
locartes law
but i the end
I believe in Love
and its hard
the flintstone
the steel magic mix
that sharpens the
heart and soul

Thank You for your take on
this subject
I write about Love much
or its absence
its drug mystery

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