Xanthium
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Xanthium

An alliteration poem.

5
Xanthium
MILK Photography/Jade Alex

I had to accept your absence after I abandoned you as an apology to myself.

I was blinded by your beauty, you made my blood burn, but you bruised me, bleeding so bad that bandages couldn't bind those blows.

I couldn't challenge our chemistry, but you claimed me as a child, a committed cat-call, a chunk of cake, to call when you couldn't contain your clothes.

You did damage that caused depression, desolation, and doubt, but I denied that all you wanted was a doll to do your dirty dishes and your dirty deeds while you dozed off into decorative destruction.

I want to erase my emotions for you so I can ease into emerging from this erosion, but it isn't exactly easy when you etched your epithet into my entire essence embodiment, you were my everything.

You were my forever, the fuel to my flame, I was your flavor, your fix and your "faith" was only a fabricated facade, you were a fractured fairytale who flung me to the fire.

You gathered that your golden goddess wasn't so gold, so you gave your gift to a grave, gray, goat.

I hate that you handed me hope in a hand-basket, you held me hostage, hacking away at my hope, happiness, and honesty, hurling me into the hurricane of Hell, handing me away, hollow and hopeless.

I was imagining our intimacy with intelligible impatience, itching to inject myself, but you were an insect with an infection identified as intoxication.

My jealousy jolted you with joy, justifying you to trade your Job for Judas.

I was kind and keen, I kissed your knees, you were my King. You knifed my kindness and kicked me out of your kingdom and killed m knowledge.

I was little and felt like I had to learn. I had to learn to love and laugh and live, but then you left, and I was lonely and livid, the only thing I learned was that love is a lie.

I wanted marriage with you, I thought you were a marvelous and miraculous man, but I misjudged and made a mistake, you're merely a mean, malicious, morsel of meat.

You neglected my name, then had the nerve to nurse my notebook into your negligent hands, you made noise over every note, but I needed you, so I said nothing.

I was obsessed, but I was only an occasional oath, an obvious occupation, an object to get you off, but I was optimistic, so I was okay.

You painted a pretty picture portrait, but it was plagiarism, you made poetry pour out of my pen, so I'm not throwing myself a pity party, I'm just through playing your pet, you pained your princess, so you paid the price.

You can't be a quarterback with only a quarter, you were quiet the quiz, but this queen didn't need your qualifications, she was a quality on her own.

I ran the race with you, but I realized that in reality, our relationship was rarely rational, you were red and rain and not relief and release, you ridiculed me with rage, so I ran.

You were a sacrifice seared into my soul, I swallowed my scares, but you screamed and left me secluded with a song, sickening sorrow, and sharp silver.

You taught me that tongues were for tasting, my throat tattered and torn from trying to talk over your thoughtless threats, but I couldn't take the tantalizing thoughts, two tortuous years of thinking about your tenderness, but also your thick-cutting, terrible tongue that testified your territory more than twice.

I finally undid myself from my unfortunate, ugly undertaker, I unbuttoned my uniform, and I came from underneath my umbrella of unhappiness and found my uniqueness.

I am a victim of verbal violence, I vomited your version of virtues, and decided it was time to leave the vast valley of vulnerability and come out victorious.

Whether the weather is withering and your Wallflower is wilting or the world is welcoming, don't waste your wishes on a worthless wishing well who isn't worth your warm-front.

I am a Xeranthemum, you are Xanthium.

You're yelling... At yourself now. I am yearning for yellow and youth, you're a yawn in my yesterday.

Even with you zooming through my zone of thoughts... I'm not a zombie without you anymore... But ask me how many days go by without me thinking about you... Zero.

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This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.
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