Blackout Poetry Notes

Flame of Hate

Her heart went hot in
a flame of hate
beating
cruel and alone
in the darkness.

You aren't here.
You're a dream evaporated.
A hurt winding
in the ruins of me.

Books undress you
with love.
Read slowly, you'll feel like
yourself again.

Flutters of pulse,
a caress
of this kind,
there was no comparison.

I've learned to be
deeply in love,
suits me just fine.

The rawness of old love,
of that spirit love,
given surely, through the senses -
ours is not a trivial mortal affection.

The heart
is so much kinder
when you fill yourself up with love.

The pure soul of an artist
is a mind consumed
and swayed
by love.

Neglect is heartbreaking.

I lose control in pain -
at rock bottom.
I need love to be real.

The heart and soul
of a good story
is so blended that we feel
it in real life.