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should i start posting my poetry i write yes or no

#question #pleasebehonest #iwantmywritingtohelpothers

How We Love

*a poem of love from someone who has never been close to it*

You love with the same fervernece Of a starved man who has been Gifted with the promise of food Sitting mere feet away.

You are all bite an snarl, You push and shove To the finish line; Your eyes trained on the flesh In front of you.

I too was hungry. You were not the only one Who was withheld lifes simple Pleasures.

I too was left to chew At the inside of my cheek To slow the decay of my skin.

I know what it feels like To cut away pieces of your body Just to feel whole.

Yet you keep taking from me; Living under the assumption That leaving my skin bitten, broken And bruised, used up from your ventures, Is an act of love, and not one Shaped from your depravity.

When I laid my body bare for you That night while the world screamed Beyond the four walls of your quiet, Cluttered room, I thought you saw how our Eyes where blurred red from the same travasties.

Naivety has always been my downfall.

It was my undoing believing you knew that We were scarred from the same knife--rather, It was careless of me to assume you would hold it in consideration before serrading me once more.

But,

With my body cut open, My blood seeping into your sheets, claiming ownership in the one place you called home, I think the hunger that had been gnawing At my insides, long before you knew me, began to subside.

There is a power in knowing You come to me to feel worthy Of being human again. That it is my body, my being That is the foundation of your Sense of self.

So I will stay quiet while your feast, I will not cry while you dismember me. I will wait, watching red stain creme cotton In a halo around us and build myself From the remnants you left, and hold you While you struggle to understand the fullness.

For this is how I love.

maybe i am a tortured poet but like, with sprinkles on it and stuff

i'm afraid everything i've ever felt was all consuming so no, i can't be normal about this

I know right now, with everything that's going on in the world, it feels like the night will last forever, it's darkness stretching out for years and years ahead. But I have to say that one day, the soft pull of life will tug at you. You'll find yourself sitting quietly in the summer months enjoying the warm rays and the birdsongs, maybe you plant some flowers or berrys. You'll laugh till your sides ache and your heart lightens. You'll make art and get paint on your clothes and on your carpet. You'll read books your friend recommend and gush over your favourite characters together, maybe you'll write your own. That's what's getting me through, that one day it will be summer, the days soft and I'll have my book finished in my hands and maybe someone will read it. Maybe they won't. But it's things like this, the soft things, that make everything worth it.