PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

He had it, he had all that he needed when he needed it and how he needed it. There was perfection in his voice and he knew it. She was everything he needed sincerity, kindness and caring. She loved him, he didn't care. He loved himself and he didn't care. He wasn't aloud to love himself because he was too good for him. His very being was something that of a god. She didn't care about what he thought, he didn't love his being, she loved what he didn't understand, and he didn't understand her. A woman in love with a man because hes in love with himself because he isn't good enough. A man who's not aloud to love anyone because he loves the fact that he doesn't love himself enough for anyone to love him. He was everything he saw in perfection and everything perfection saw in him, but he wasn't everything he saw in himself nor was perfection what perfection saw in itself. He was sublime...distinguished...and imposing, but he wasn't a word that means something to him. He doesn't cry, he bleeds tears... he doesn't lose face he just misplaces it... hes never cut, his flesh just happens to come off for a fresher coat to take over. He'll never lose a limb either he'll just get bored of it. She... she wanted him to love her, so she could love the unloveable and love herself. They were two opposites with the same goal. He loved his games... the ones where people get hurt because they wanna impress him. But none the less... she looked to him in pure admiration, in pure care, in pure LUST.