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Chest; Nuts

Art of the Heart

By Mr. KUTZKYPublished 6 years ago 3 min read
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I know why I had them place her in another land, I would have compromised her as a young man, my touch too much, and at tenderness I would have made her & myself a mess. The tempering of my temperament was meant for another nearly as wise, I remember when I met her eyes, returned from a self induced temporary abyss, I ventured back through the door to see what I had yet to be before. What she'd make, what she'd take, what I would have put at stake, lucked out in a lack of longevity. Then was the end that made me be. So shattered, heart battered, tears fluidly flattered, wet face in haste I left this place. Amongst my favorite to try and salvage and savor it, the skills introduced to me and who I just used to be a wanted and unwanted memory. Distill the skill and kill the pain, pursued was a wizards game, a true metaphor of alchemy I took upon performing on me. About a half a Jupiter cycle later the pen I'm still holding but in the hand of a man much more golden. Now I not a specimen you might want as your best friend, For those I hold in my heart I always have their back, but I'll always let you go if you let not go your lack. This behavior a bit rude, I could be a different type of dude, but that person not becoming of what I'm becoming. I hold a love for you all forever, but I love not not being clever. I've crafted my pace into a very specific taste. I know nearly no cups could contain me and not corrode, it it a pitfall of my self paved road. I cherish the words of a psychic, who said I'd meet someone who'd like it. This sophisticated mistress I think I've come to witness. As I said certainty can not quite be, for she lives not in the same land as me. I've still fortifying to do to my footing, so her behavior is interestingly off putting. I count myself now lucky to have had loves that have completely fucked me. My senses now sharp to the smell, in every soul I can tell the mark love has made and then determine if she of interest should it be that I should trade. Trade my cherished unaccountability to see what a potential could come to be. Most potentials hold of no interest to me, their end I can see, and I'd have to pretend to be a lesser version of me just so she'd release herself into her own magnificence, and then my fakery would make it be to me of no significance. The breaking of her heart held at the whim of when I decide no longer to abide to her favorite version of him. The pain this would have her hurled in I know to well, I'd rather live in that hell than inflict it upon another, so now ever vigilant I am on who'd I'd have as a lover. I know more & more who I long for, and I've lots to do while I wait, hell I have even maybe found her and feel no the urge to escape, grab her by her nape and have her so hard it'd be a hair away from rape. Not that it's still not something I'd love to do, it's just my steps more calculated and the need to have her have my heart immediately have dissipated. The eagerness of inexperience now tame, whatever evolves I'll still be the same. I'll keep you posted if the chestnuts get roasted, if the fire fires open like I'm hoping, if she gives me chills outside with a mind that's frightful, if she can be the she that makes me delightful. Til then, let it snow, let it flow, let it go and let it show.

love poems
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About the Creator

Mr. KUTZKY

All things dark and strange, the beauty of complexity, the isolation of integrity. Honest articulations on the perks and pitfalls of both. Keep your mind sharp and a sword to your heart.

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