#art

The cause and effect.

Oh how did I forget to put the honey on the womb that was the atonement to your aliveness? Your spliced solace 

Combined like terms

And you get I.

With you it was a mistake gone right.

A cold case found 

A rebound

Rebooting the hard drive we thought it was the sound.

It was.

Our truths not told so it was heard in third parties,

Lowly is the man who has nobody.

Friends forever broken down,

passion ignited was the beginning of the end to a union that was suppose to last forever.

Our forever was momentarily infinite.

Parasites to the mental capacity to see beyond our way of thinking left us like this.

 Creative mind ceased,

Yet the memory keeps the juices flowing.

Finding love in a hopeless place put me in a position to be truly loved.

To know what it felt like.

Life ain’t so easy as they say 

And situations ain’t so stationary as envoys 

I was employed

To invite you to a branch of lighthearted comfort and familiarity.

You served as an editor of what Self worth meant to me,

I see the God in me,

All thanks to you.

Appreciation is an understatement 

I appreciate this current present.

To love and be loved so perfectly aligned 

I never could of dream of such sweetness.

The cause and effect. 

Going through the dark to see the light.

You made it all possible.

I thank you for your wisdom.

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To just let go.

My emotional wreckage is set up like shiny new born babies coming down the birth canal squirming to get out yet the doctor states that the baby is breached.

My emotions are set up as if the ocean tides that are pulled by the sun gave way for the most rebellious surfer to try his hand at the great lengths this wave may take him only to find out he has to wait for the next one.

These tears keep falling down my face as if the past keeps repeating itself in vain and none of the hard work I put in to unlearn the pain and isolation of being seen and not heard was brought to life and as a result I feel like I can’t breathe. Suffocating into a revolting question mark.

And these words… These mere words I carry like a homeless person on 52nd and woodland holding on to their possessions; protecting it with their life knowing that this is all that they have and the memory of knowing that they had more channels an inner desire to make sure they’ll never let this bag go.

My heart. My heart succumbs to the devastation of men, men who I briefly see as an outlet yet to only later find out I just pick the ones who are designed and specializes in breaking the one organ I find life in.

So I hold my tongue. Afraid to be down to earth because my head is a space shuttle full of ambiguity that I’m sure no one could relate to because the jibbish dialect that tells my space cadet stories derives from being an offspring of a mother who rather smoke crack than take care of her 5 kids that all have different daddies. So I put myself in a state of reclusiveness knowing for sure no one will ever want to be be my friend yet alone wife up.

I’m currently alone in a bathroom, ass on the toilet hearing only the sound of me typing this and the air conditioner in the bedroom. And for the first time I can say I’m utterly sad.

Sad I never spoke up for myself. Sad I never had the courage to be the unique woman God has made me to be. Sad I was these different images that people wanted me to portray. Sad I never had the chance to properly tell the one person who truly love me goodbye. Sad I rely on the fictitious men to figure out my worth for me. Sad I can’t still come out of this shell I never knew even existed.

I just want to let go. Not die but fall off a bridge and fear nothing. Close my eyes and let everything just go.

God forgive me for being lost

I’m addicted to the pain,
I’m convinced.
Wondering why I am attracted to the ones who doesn’t want to explore my mind but my body is optional for them.

I pick these men of valor who takes pride in what they have as their queen on their arm.
Yet I’m starting to feel like the peasant that they play with, throw crumbs at, and laugh to the sanctions of how naive she must is.

But in reality (in mine that is) I just love love.
Love the connection that intertwine two souls that become one,
Spiritual bonds as our temples are being explored.
I’m not sure if that’s the dictionary version of saying she’s gullible but I do know I’m feeling pretty restless.

When is it my turn to feel the undeniable touch of a person who desires forever with me?
More importantly, why must my internal state feel so lost without it?
Stevie wonder plays the soundtrack of my soul and yet I live a reality of being constantly turned down by the one I want to give my heart to.
Feeling overjoyed until I’m back where I started.
The plot is continuously congruent.
Where must I change at?
Where do I start?

God forgive me for being so lost.

Those hands….

Those hands I felt through my finger tips tells me a few things…

It tells me your diligent hands will rule like the wisdom proverbs guides us

You seem like you take accord in all that you do…

It tells me you fix what’s broken,

The way you describe what you love to do tells me that your soul is felt everyday on this earth.

Seems like those same hands gently brings life to those who might be lost.

Maybe the way you wrap them around me tells me I could perhaps feel safe in them.

The way you gently bowed your head before you touched your food,

Excusing the world for roughly 10 seconds to give honor and respect to the same spirit we could perhaps be meant to search a greater depth for…

Maybe together.

Maybe so…

Until the universe show it’s true colors, I can only imagine those hands…

Your unique view of this world penetrates my own idiosyncrasies.

I want to turn you on with my own words but they seem to be lost somewhere.

Nervousness took heed because I knew what was right in front of me.

Those ubiquitous hands knowing worldly things and me wanting to so desperately hold them.

Loving a Gemini

I just made love to a Gemini.
The same side where he showed the most affection and assist me to where my inhabitants were.
And I came the same time the rising sun was placed into the sky.
I just made love to the same face of a Gemini that found where my sweet spot was,
The same side that took time to find what made my soul tick,
He looked me in my eyes and told me it was ok to feel free.

After it was all said and done, he gently laid on my chest.
As if it felt like I had a leg up on all the rest,
His one hundredth and one.
But then he put his clothes on and asked me if he should lock the door behind him.
That’s when I knew this was another side I should of coached myself to.
He’ll be looking in his rear view mirror to see if there is any residue of the love we have just ensued,
And go home and hug his wife under the covers like he was never mine.
In the meantime he has me and her crying and dying simultaneously for his time.
Not knowing we both want the same thing, we carry on this lie.
Lying to ourselves that the next time it will be different,
Knowing fully well that this is what we have accepted.
Only difference is she is his.
I am no ones.
I come alone even if he is in me, so there’s no innate intimacy.
Because I just made love to a Gemini.
The same guy that has two sides,
The same guy that continually makes my heart ache for him,
So I will sit in this room and hope he hears my cries.

:: hanging on your words

I see these endless possibilities,
yet I have dedicated my life to giving you unconditional second chances.

And I was confident in staying in my place because you have taught me well.

Your ambiguous love had no specific meaning.

Your common speech held common ground.

Unfortunately your commas between your common words never held any sound.

You’re desired to be my completed thought but you didn’t believe in punctuation.

So your sophistication was just infiltration.

And I’m still hanging on to every word you used for me.