Love Has Never

Love has never asked to be felt;
it has never once bowed its head
to kiss my palms or ask me
what it would take to make
room for it in my soul.
Love has never spent a moment
gathering my dreams or getting
to know me a little bit better;
it never once offered to scrub
the stains your broken heart left
in the corners of my soul.
Love has laughed in the face
of my consent, demanded
a place at my table,
and shoved its filthy hands
down my throat, and it pulls
my heart from its cage
and the words from my mouth
and stacks them like secrets
inside your hooded eyes
and perfect lines until I look
less like me and more like
a casualty of poor choices
and cheap moments spent
in gaudy rooms shooting
the shit and anything that feels
a little like love into my veins.


© Nicole Lyons 2019

4 thoughts on “Love Has Never

  1. Wow! I am constantly astounded at all the boiling , swirling , devastating pain and anger spilling out word after word after agonizing word painting a picture of many kinds of abuse destroying a very tender, vulnerable soul until feelings are no longer possible to occur never mind thrive.

    It pulls at my heart strings and requests the Mother in me to rescue a soul that I know intellectually has to be done by the child alone in their own way and time. Praying that there are enough words and time to allow healing and halt tragedy.



  2. For better or worse, or both at once or in turns, love enters where it will and makes its own demands without negotiation. Ah, but your poetry says that so much better.


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