I have made a habit
Of tying strings around my thumb
I want to make it last but
It keeps on going numb
I think that if I try
A little harder than before
I could probably convince my body to
Hurt a little more
Tag Archives: Relationships
Postpartum
“My daughter…”
“Yes?”
“I do not think I am enough…”
“That is ok, no one ever does.”
If this is how we treat our heroes…
I wanted to graze my finger tips across a surface roughed by bad intentions
Cut my teeth on twisted lips and indigestion
Was it just my imagination that this blue belonged on me
With a silver prong stylus in my hand, this the freedom I understand
The one that boys painted hues of black and blue while wearing green berets
My body is littered with there words. Their taunts of encouragements
Their disgusted repose
A hero really, for the lack of a better word
Who put such fitness into me I thought I would burn
But here they lie, with stained tongues and strained eyes
Having kissed the encouragement that came at a surprise
My color, my blood, spread quickly in the streets
Fingers one raised on intention now begging for release
Lips clenched in indignation now chewing on my teeth
These boys, so precious, forced to grow up
It is my imagination or did they forget how to trust?
A/N
Thank you dear readers for sticking around through these trying times. I know my angst has gone up a fee notches. So hopefully you can enjoy this one. I would love to see how people interpret it.
Much love from mine to yours
E – Evade
He took his time with me.
I do not remember screaming, but it must have been loud enough to wake what demons had been standing by. For when I opened my eyes next they had been sitting at my side with such pitiful looks. One gently laid his hand on my chest while alone started to cry. When he took away I could see blood from a wound I could no recall ever getting.
Carved into me so deeply
There may have been a moment when I tried to move, but I can not remember. Waking up in a room full of people who could not see. Their eyes sewed shut with broken pieces of red string. I only just begin to notice one sniffing the air when I begin to hear again.
Someone nearby is weeping
Carefully I extend a hand. Grasp for what left. What’s there. I do not think she has noticed me. So committed to her screaming. There are tears I wish I could expend but I fear the meaning would be lost to her. Poor lamb who got caught. Poor lamb who may never get up
D – Defend Me
Reckless sinner unhand me
speaking words as you bleed
did you not see the lies
or where you to busy averting you eyes
hiding away from gods grace
turning love to shame in his holy name
tactless sinner who dared to grieve
speaking words till you bleed
did you mean to unhand me
or where you to busy down on your knees
begging a god who has left unseen
soaking in such terrible dreams
thoughtless sinner who left me free
drowning in words that surely bleed
you weren’t meant to do these deeds
yet you lie there in a broken heap
revenge for a god who can never be
C – Control Me
That’s OK Kiss me kindly
bind me to the page
bring about the rage
that OK just kill me
neatly with no grace
I was made to expend
I was made to defend
Kiss me when the beat drops
Take apart, my heart stops
I was made in demand
I was made with you in hand
destroy my body cause you able
Suspended above the table
My blood is what you crave
So make it last for days
Kill me blindly with no grace
I was made for this disgrace
B – Break Me
He has his hand on my thigh
A fistful of regret tightly clenched in each touch
He speaks to me, not wanting me
but desire slickers in blank spaces
Where her face was once seen erases
He doesn’t want me but I am the next best thing
Alone and awake with such sensitive taste
I do not think he has noticed that I feel the same
Slinking desire for a man I can’t see
Holding my thighs together while whispering “forgive me”
A Brown Girl with a White Man’s Name
“Negative” I wonder outloud to a foreign crowd of my forgotten brethren
They speak some vows and turn my way
Noticing the privilege I proclaim
The twist of my hips
The turn of my lips
The graceless way I speak out of turn
I know that I am not one of them
With my too brown skin and my too black hair
Kinked up readily to face the wind
“Negative” I proclaim with a sneer
For deep down inside
I know that I am not welcomed here
But I hide it with a haughty stance
One hand on my lip and the other on my chest
My blood was never going to be enough
My twisted tongue can’t speak those vows
Spoken outloud by a foreign crowd
But I am going to go on pretending
That my black will matter here
A church of Echos
Why is no one listening to me
Screams the child in the church pew
Grandfathers hand down their top
And grandmothers over their mouth
Mom and dad standing at the opposite ends
Trying not to listen to the shouts
But that is not what gave the room pause
Over there sits a little boy with a gun in his lap
And rewards on his jacket
Drawing up a dagger and slicing into a peer
Color coded lettering screaming
Why is no one listening
But move the camera preacher man
Over there you’ll see
A girl squating over pill bottles chocking them down with ease
Shitting out insta likes
As the wolves paw at her feet
The shacking of the pills bottles gives a signal
As hands reach to spread her knees
Why is no one listening to me
Down the asle lies a bible
Covered in well wishes and kisses
Thumbs up with well intentions
It holds the congregations attention
As the preacher man walks by
with gleam in his eye
Giving twisted smile to the lost boys
And waving at the confused girls
Praising the mothers and fathers
Only to step past the blooded child
Joyful Motherhood
I don’t know how to tell my mother I love her. For that, I guess I should be grateful. How can I say such things when I really do not understand the meaning, the feeling, of these simple words. If it were up to me I would shout them from the heavens. I would tell her all the ways I appreciate her and the things she has done. How proud of her with how far she has come. I guess that is love and yet I am confused. These words, so overly spoken, only have meaning because I give them such. So what if she hears my shouted words and hears something other then love? Does that make what I said false?
Should I give up?
See, the word love has always confused me. It is a subjective response to something. What I may confuse as love others may believe it to be anything but…but would that be my fault?
Maybe because I do not understand this I can not accurately predict the way which is best to express it. What if my mother needs gifts, simple actions, wishes of more? Of course, for a friend it would be different, for my daughter even more so.
How can I unpack the various ways to show love and accurately pinpoint which ones works best with which person without going through the motions of stress.
I guess this is a lot to think about because, honestly, none of it really matters in the grand scheme of things. See life is unpredictable, at least it is to me. Something so simple as love and expression, trust and affection, will not look the same for everyone I meet. But intention! Yes, see intention, is sometimes all that matters.
I do not know a lot about love but I wish for my mother to know how much I care. I want her to know that I appreciate the courage it has taken her to bring her children to this point. I have a daughter, my own precious little one, and my mother has given me all of her skills, the good and the bad in raising her. I may not know how to properly show this love but I feel my intent, with every attempt, is enough.
NIGHTMARE FANTASY 