Anger Of The Rejected Poem by Melissa Hurst

O, Peniamina,
my heart aches in vain.
Grab your knife
and remove this stubborn organ!

I wish that I ne'er knew your lips
that were full with passion.
I curse the day that I came to love you,
I damn the night that I fell from logic.

Only through Death
will these tears
be confirmed and dried.
And only then will peace embrace
my heart so heavy laden.

Tis an impossibility to forget you
as I tread this Earth.
Each woman you come to love
is one I envy and learn to hate,
then I become a slave of comparison's opinion.

I point and say, 'She is smaller and Peniamina
can lift her, whilst I was heavy and a burden for his bones.'
I weep and whisper in objection, 'But I love him
beyond the depth of the word,
will she ache for him as I have done? '

My bed knows of my love for him
as its surface is soaked
with tears that could drown the world.
I whisper for deceitful Peniamina,
hoping that he approaches my bed
and kisses me with his sly and selfish tongue.

Agent of the Devil will find his angel
and my cries shall linger for eternity.
Damn you, Peniamina!
Damn those memories you used
to entice me to do what should have been between
two true lovers and not only one.

I pray that a day will curse you,
where you will cry for me
and my ear will not recognize your voice.
I wish upon the starry sky that you will long
for me and that I will come to your call,
crush you with my foot and tear you asunder.
And through that, you will know what you have done to me, my Darling.