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    dots Submission Name: Love?dots

    Author: Abby Sinthetic
    Elite Ratio:    2.75 - 177/230/53
    Words: 30
    Class/Type: Misc/Love
    Total Views: 1037
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 219

       I don't know.

    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.


    Your love puts me to sleep like morphine.
    Now I'm purblind,
    in a coma.
    While you're raving,
    motley turncoat.
    Love is in the morgue.
    Love is murder,
    to the soul.

    Submitted on 2004-06-30 17:43:15     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    Rate This Submission

    1: >_<
    2: I dunno...
    3: meh!
    4: Pretty cool
    5: Wow!

    ||| Comments |||
      weird stuff but cool, the word play/flow...like uncoiling a ball of yarn(i mean that in a good way...i'll read this again when I"m not tired). coma is my favorite word.
    | Posted on 2004-06-30 00:00:00 | by joe quinn | [ Reply to This ]
      This was great. One of those "short but sweet" poems. And though the idea of this wasn't exactly sweet.. the writing of it was well done so I think it can still be considered sweet :) I especially was drawn to the last line. "Love is murder, to the soul". Very powerful and good.
    | Posted on 2004-06-30 00:00:00 | by melancholystar | [ Reply to This ]
      hey, I think yoour poem is very well written and with more practice I could become as creative as you. Keep up the good work. Look forward to reading your pieces!
    | Posted on 2004-06-30 00:00:00 | by lolavie | [ Reply to This ]
      wow, harsh. love is murder? well, i guess that is right... when you sove.. its like you lose bits and pieces of yourself to this person until you have nothing left, and are( emothionally) dead. hmph.... never thought of it like that... well once, but yeah...
    | Posted on 2004-06-30 00:00:00 | by prettygrnEyes | [ Reply to This ]
      ya, you know. you are right in many ways. i've felt like this before. reading this brings me right back to seven months ago when i'm sitting on the edge of the bed trying to respond to "what's wrong's" when he's gushing his guts out to me. it is a broken circumstance when you find yourself wishing you were elsewhere and the other person just wishes you were right 'here' forever. and all that does is make you sit on the floor next to the bed because you can't bear to be [thisclose] anymore. in many ways, you are right. love is murder. it is the death of things that were never meant to be kept alive. it seems like it is always hovering under the surface...like a plastic wrap lid on a fish bowl. you can see and feel the surface...but you don't know how to get the f.uck out except to kill everything off.

    | Posted on 2004-06-30 00:00:00 | by myghostsliketotravel | [ Reply to This ]

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