Gutter Love

[Dark Muse]

Gutter Love

I recall bygone days
of slit wrists,
and wasted blood,
remembering the boy
with green eyes
who could steel your soul away
with a smile.

But he fades
like the smoke of his cigarettes,
while still the scars remain,
life continues on,
in spite of best efforts
to slowly drain it away.

He is a ghost,
perhaps gutter bound,
perhaps somewhere laughing at us all,
but it changes nothing.

I remember tripping through
oblivion in those earlier days
when he first denied me his love,
when I first believed that
enslavement was love.

All the broken souls,
and broken boys
with their sardonic narcissism
which seemed so appealing,
because I wanted to devour darkness,
because I knew I wasn't good,
and never desired Sainthood.

But there was only ugliness
in their hearts and their bruises
ran too deep, or were only ploys
like the lame duck misleading predators away,
instead they sought to capture
the deranged who could be tricked
into loving them,
but they had no love to return.

They were beautiful boys
in their way, their strange mad ways,
but they were the damned,
the lost boys, but I wanted
to know the taste of hell,
to feel the fire under my skin,
to touch something of their despair,
it was my sickness.

But after a time
one grows as weary of vice
as one does of virtue,
it is no longer a game, if ever it was,
and when you open your eyes next
you know you want something real.

Tired of throwing away pieces
of my heart like pennies in a fountain
upon fickle wishes that never amount to anything,
it is a man, not a boy who will sew the parts together,
it is a man who teaches me how to live again,
a man who reveals the truth about love,
we were both lost ones,
but together we are found.