This poem, by Maggie Bachler, was the winner of the poetry category in our Love Stinks writing contest.
She does not love me, no not at all
She does not care, whether I fade nor fall
A cold, cruel succubus; her kiss never gazed my lips
I drank a cup of poison and, unfortunately, I live
In an internal suffering, the sweet juice was so comforting
A salty, soured, to be devoured
Jewel I find, I want for mine
Soothing touch, it shuddered to come
Never was mine, though it was refined
It was a devil, or demon I could not harness
And so for that, I drew the carcass
Out of a cold, chilling after nighmare
For which I could not awake, I swear
The grave burnt deeply, the grave burnt bright
Our of a shuddering, sinister delight
It heated in me, so effortlessly
A strong resentment I did not want to name ‘jealousy’
For you, for me, I wish them well
But another part is bruised and swelled
For while she was fair, I was scared
And while she was confident, I was unaware
How he stared at her, to love her so
I threw myself on pity’s grave that hid my woes
And there I died; a part of me inside
I know I could not win, there was nowhere left to hide