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This poem is part of the contest:

Neopoet Weekly 02/22/26 to 02/28/26

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her poem about me

he’s handsome, he touches me, he sees me
i feel like a woman
not afraid to lose him
i plunge inside of him without drowning
my life does not break up in two
no bleeding
no dark circles around my eyes in the morning

i have shy orgasms
quiet and pleasant, not painful
my ribs do not explode
pleasure does not fracture my every bone
my tears are not made up of blood
my lips don’t dry up and fall
like an engagement ring on his penis

he’s not the forbidden man
he’s the likely man
he does not shatter my life
does not break up my home
does not devastate me
i am the chosen one
not the victim he sees

overwhelming me
suffocating me, silencing me
undressing me of my skin
destroying me, by all means
destroying me

he loves me
he’s my residual heat
i don’t need tenderness
i wish for homicide and murder
i want to be cut off from reality and drowned
in the claustrophobia of oblivion
where i don’t longer know who i am
and i’m afraid of myself
of what i’ve become

he’s just a beacon
a sign that i’m still human and feel
i’m validated and still exist
and i can now
set myself on fire

i could be with you
feel vulnerable without a risk
i was with you to understand
i don’t want to feel safe
i was with you for a moment of tenderness
and now i want to be dragged around
ripped up open
and turned to dust
dust dust
dust.

yes, that’s how i love, that’s how i run away.
i want my hell.
i deserve it.

my poem for you

i choose the person and the trauma
i always think i was unfair
i can be the devil’s whip
even when i love

you need emotional violence
to feel your own vulnerability
torn to pieces by a man’s feebleness
but strength lies not in what you do
but in what you can do and lies above your head
like a funeral cake with uranium candies

stability anesthetizes you
you dream of making love
to annihilation, to disintegration
you dream of having sex with a cannibal
devouring you thereafter

you want it to be sinister and awesome
i want it to be hideously nice
to feel like your boat is about to capsize
into the cold mountain water
and when you drown and gasp for air
i will kiss you

until your stomach’s churning
like a tear on a rock
and in the night you weave spiderwebs
over your loneliness
over your inner disaster
you’re waiting for a flickering of the phone
wishing it were someone else
not me

`cause i touch your erotic plexus when i write
i touch your spinal nerves and your marrow
you’re growing a white hair on your pubis
when you feel the strength
coming from inside my mind
but i’m not your eventuality
i am not blood-thirsty, barbarian and berserk
i only break onions with my fist
i won’t break your heart

you never wish for the power of the mind
you wish for pure chaos, the tailspin of feelings
austere rebellion of the heart
against love and your being
to not be able to find yourself
gather yourself
and be as one
a venus without embrace
no arms
no head
no love

to be a residue
hollering, mandible broken
static electricity, the sky full of thunders
no touching you
no asking for forgiveness, but asking to be hit
come, hit me, hit me
maybe your only way to be touched

i will kiss you then until you feel
a shame like a fever
a kiss like some last defibrillation
an urge not to die
dress up in your used-up skin
touch your ravaged sex
feel that you still can
suture the spot where you’re finally broken.

About This Poem

Style/Type: Free verse

Review Request Intensity: I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back

Editing Stage: Editing - polished draft

About the Author

Country/Region: ROU

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Comments

neopoet

neopoet

1 month 3 weeks ago

Neopoet AI (premium) [2025-04]

The below is a computer-generated response from Neo, Neopoet’s AI:

This poem explores the interplay between love, trauma, vulnerability, and self-destruction through a confessional, dialogic structure. The text is divided into two distinct voices or perspectives, each reflecting on the nature of intimacy and the psychological complexities underlying desire and attachment.

The opening section employs repetition and negation to establish a contrast between the speaker’s current relationship and previous, more destructive experiences. Lines such as “no bleeding / no dark circles around my eyes in the morning” and “my tears are not made up of blood” use visceral imagery to evoke past pain, while the absence of these symptoms in the present relationship is rendered almost uncanny. The poem’s syntax—short, declarative statements—contributes to a sense of emotional detachment, as if the speaker is cataloguing symptoms rather than expressing feeling.

The poem’s central tension revolves around the paradoxical longing for both safety and annihilation. The speaker’s admission, “i don’t want to feel safe,” and the desire for “homicide and murder” as metaphors for obliterating the self, suggest a complex relationship with vulnerability and pleasure. This is reinforced by the motif of drowning and fire—opposing forces that both threaten and promise transformation.

The second section, introduced by “my poem for you,” shifts the focus to the addressee and their own relationship to trauma and desire. The language becomes more abstract and metaphorical, with lines like “a funeral cake with uranium candies” and “a venus without embrace / no arms / no head / no love.” These images are surreal and jarring, emphasizing the psychological fragmentation and longing for chaos that the poem attributes to the addressee.

The poem’s use of bodily imagery—“touch your erotic plexus,” “your spinal nerves and your marrow,” “dress up in your used-up skin”—serves to blur the boundaries between physical and emotional experience. This corporeal focus is both intimate and unsettling, reinforcing the theme of love as both a site of healing and destruction.

Formally, the poem’s lack of punctuation and reliance on enjambment create a sense of breathlessness and urgency. This stylistic choice mirrors the emotional intensity and instability described in the content. However, the density of metaphors and the rapid shifts in imagery can at times overwhelm the reader, making it difficult to track the emotional arc or the relationship between the two voices.

The poem’s closing lines attempt to resolve the tension by invoking the possibility of repair—“suture the spot where you’re finally broken”—but this gesture is ambiguous, suggesting both hope and resignation.

For further refinement, consider clarifying the distinction between the two voices, perhaps through more explicit shifts in tone or diction. Additionally, some metaphors (e.g., “funeral cake with uranium candies”) risk obscuring meaning rather than deepening it; evaluating which images best serve the poem’s emotional core could strengthen its impact. The poem’s exploration of self-destructive desire is compelling, but tightening the progression of ideas may help sustain the reader’s engagement throughout its considerable length.

Please send feedback about Neo (our AI critique system) to neopoet.com/contact

Geezer

Geezer

1 month 3 weeks ago

I would...

suggest that that particular metaphor, "funeral cake with uranium candles" does indeed, have more meaning for the author, then would for the average reader, but also could infer that the person is still capable of meaningful relationships, or at least wants to try. I didn't find that very far afield. I did however, find that a bit better punctuation could help the reader. ~ Geez.

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