In and out my life you stomp…
in Combat Boots

On the bed I lay…On the bed I stayed. I don’t think I have ever been in that room and not been on the bed.

You danced on my dreams and goals… in combat boots.

I guess it would’ve have been an even fight if I had a machete and arsenal of ammunition. But, I wore pastel tutu-skirts and converse chucks. I liked glitter and sugar dust, feathered on every part of me.

My favorite color was pink and candy scents clouded my space. Young and sweet; with curly, light colored hair. A flowering fairy and free-giving, wild-child.

For nights and days, you took what you never owned..Innocence, Naivety, Joy, Peace, Beauty, Light, and Love. You ripped them from me, and tucked them in your boots. Attracted to my glow but not able to comprehend it’s nature. You dissected it..dismantled it, and now it jingles like keys in your pockets.

The curiosity in me, allows you to stay.

In and out my life you parade… in Combat Boots.

You stomp away then kick down doors to come back in.

Even when you are gone.. (I guess rummaging and pillaging some other poor soul)…You’ve tattooed yourself on my every existence; all I do is think of you.. even when love fights so hard to kill you.. You always manage to slay it.

My lover dead at my feet, and face covered in your spit… You laugh and jump on his back..your leather heel bruising his side.

Bent over and up against the wall… (once again). Tears and glee blush my cheeks. A sinful sick soul…I am too. Nauseous of a true lovers touch. Only longing for your gleaming sword. A wicked bastard-for true. But, damn..I must be pretty wicked too, to allow you to do the deeds you do.

In and out of my life in Combat Boots…

You’ve showed me so much evil. Your pain is now my pleasure. The innocence I crave.. The love I devour…then throw up because it’s taste sickens me. The sweetness, only masks my face until my goal is achieved.

Now.. my pretty pink tutu’s are black.. poisoned dust laces my skin. I stash blades in my panties and a contagious disease flows from my kiss. Midnight hair and blood tinted lips…dark eyed with heartless glare..

Hate hides in my gloved hand, and I dare a soul to survive in my bed.

© 2012, Mantra Lotus. All rights reserved.

Mantra Lotus (28 Posts)

"I Float".. I Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee..ain't nobody got nothin' on me." I Float with iridescent blue wings.. high on top of purple dust..low to the oceans floor. I spin and whirl, wallow and sink. I am who I am, only because it's who I've been blessed to be. All-knowing and nothing. I knew you long before YOU knew you. Plugging USB cords to the universal cipher, I stay lit. I do what I do, simply because I DO IT. I love, hurt, bleed, laugh, cry, dance. F up, F down, (sideways and on my knees). I pray for forgiveness, and sleep on books of ancestral secrets. I love life because "it's" mine. I want bliss, happiness, joy, and "The love of my life", but I face reality that I may have to settle for the fattest, funkiest, avocado, soy burger and wheat-grass juice. "I Float"..Not fast. Not slow. Just enough for (YOU) to stay with...(ME). Mantra (Writer, Poet and Artist from The Greater St. Louis Area)


  1. Oh Mantra, what hell that spawns such demons. Reality is starkly dramatic here. Compelling. As only you could write.

  2. So harrowing and graphic and heart-wrenching. Couldn’t stop reading once I started! Quite a wonderfully expressive outpouring of love/hate for sure.

    Thanks Mantra.


  3. Wow. This speaks to me of drug addiction… maybe love can be like a drug addiction. The first part seems like that which takes is a person, a man, but later we figure out it’s not. Well done.

  4. Mantra,

    Our culture has a love-hate relationship with sex, some might say with love.

    Rarely have I ever seen this paradox expressed more compellingly than you did in these words:

    “A wicked bastard-for true. But, damn..I must be pretty wicked too, to allow you to do the deeds you do.”

    If demons there be, do not let them devour the angel.


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