Poem: A Love Gone Bad by Orville Lloyd Douglas

By Orville Lloyd Douglas

A Love Gone bad

Like a sour apple this taste is distinct and toxic.

There are holes in this rotten fruit that now fester and is now spoiled.

There are gaping wounds that must be sterilized.

A fire that once thrived has died.

Your callous words are like knives stabbing my self esteem and confidence.

The bullets of your victim mentality won’t pierce my soul.

What was so special about you anyway?

Was it because I loved it when you spoke Punjabi?

Was it because I was discovering a new culture when you  introduced me to Indian cuisine?

Was it because I was entering a world foreign to me?

Was it  because your thick hairy chest that is like a wilderness drew me in?

Was it your cock, your balls, your tongue, down my throat that set me off?

Maybe it was your testosterone strength as you held me in your arms overpowering me?

Maybe it was because your  tongue raced across the continent of my skin traveling to

places  where pleasure overwhelmed me?

You screwed me over anyway with your sob story.

I waited patiently like a fool thinking you actually loved me.

Yeah, it must be rough that you will be forced into an arranged marriage.

But it’s the year 2009 you got ten million options to become a man.

But what about the poor woman that may have to marry you?

What about the Punjabi female that has to feel your deleterious cock enter her?

What about the children you may have?

A father that is on the down low?

Is that what you want?

Just so your mom and dad can have their “perfect” Punjabi life?

When are you ever going to grow up?

Your wife  will live in hell with you.

She will have to remain in a prison because you are a coward and a fool.

She will have to be your “wife” while in the “ shadows” the real you emerges.

Running down to Church Street and sucking the cocks and fucking men in Toronto.

I am glad I am not her although I wish your future wife knew the real you too.

Oh but your cinnamon, brown, lips were an illusion for destruction.

A mirage of false pretences was your hairy body on top of mine.

When I kissed your mouth it was like a mythology.

I was submerged drowning into your world feeling “sorry” for you.

It took me “seven years” to swim back to the surface and reclaim my life.

“Seven years” of realizing you will never change.

Lies, untruths, doubts, entered my mind.

You are like Fort Knox trying to discern what is real and what fiction is.

Did you ever really love me?

Did you ever really want me?
Crashing down like an avalanche of pain was reality.

I accept that being alone is better than being lost in fog of discontent.