On this day, I was broken
On this day, my world stopped
On this day, my life was reduced
On this day, pain consumed me
and this consumption never left
I went to bed broken-hearted
I woke up broken-hearted
My life was pain
Pain was all I knew
I wept until I could weep no more
My spirit was locked in a dark room
It was empty
reason departed me
there was nothing
I had nothing
My joy was stolen
My labour unfavoured
I screamed
Yelled
Suicide was a friend
Depression my lover
Bitterness my worship
I tried to pray
I tried to believe,
but my mind could not.
My spirit and flesh
withered,
but still my soul thirsted.
It searched;
Hoped
Prayed
Believed
Submitted
Fought
To find God.
It knew
He is my answer
The truth and the way
The truth is God
and in Him
I rested.
Aug 1, 2019
Aug 1, 2019 at 9:51 PM UTC
You sit there
Trying to convince yourself that "you'll be fine"
But since we are all flesh
We have to fear.
But fear is conjoined.
With every atom,
there
is
hope.
Jun 11, 2019
Jun 11, 2019 at 2:55 PM UTC
Don't hold me
responsible for the
rainfall tonight,
it comes to
reveal how much
i hurt and
the way my
tears flows because
of my brokenness.
I am really
a fool being
the way i am.
For the rain
and the darkness
of the night
makes it impossible
to reach you.
I am still
standing at the
corner with the
thunderstorm in
the rain waiting
for you while
you stood
under the shade
of a tree
kissing another.
Do I blame
the rain for
coming down or
my heart for
foolishness or
you for not
loving me.
Should i blame
the thunderstorm
because i didn't
win her heart.
But there,
also standing in
the rain stranded,
is someone
calling out to me,
a stranger.
Maybe love has
finally arrived.
©2019,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Mar 12, 2019
Mar 12, 2019 at 6:44 AM UTC
The days pass & he lingers
I sip on the memory
Of his calloused fingers
Like he etched his initials into my skin
I, robed in his jacket
That still smells like him
I dance whenever I recall
Our nights together
When we exposed it all
I was the sea
We took and gave
& elated, he splashed
Inside my waves
Mar 12, 2019
Mar 12, 2019 at 6:40 AM UTC
Only those who truly care about you, will hear you when you are quiet.
Mar 12, 2019
Mar 12, 2019 at 6:39 AM UTC
It began with the work.
He was the brilliant author; she his secretary.
They were racing against time
To pay a debt that must be paid.
Her nimble hands matched his nimble mind.
Her fingers flew to record his thoughts.
Four weeks, a mere four weeks,
to finish his novel; to rescue himself from debt.
Each night she worked, by feeble candlelight,
To transcribe his thoughts
While thoughts of love engendered in her breast.
At last the work was done, his time redeemed,
Yet he could not let go of one so dear.
Shyly, Dostoevsky proposed they wed.
She consented to become his wife, so dear.
She was not beautiful in the conventional sense
But became his muse, in fact his life and death.
Mar 9, 2019
Mar 9, 2019 at 4:16 PM UTC
My fingers crawl to
the loneliest place when I
want and miss you most.
-m.b
Mar 9, 2019
Mar 9, 2019 at 8:49 AM UTC
Sometimes I just want to disappear
And live inside my head
Because in my head, the world is so much more beautiful....
Mar 9, 2019
Mar 9, 2019 at 7:57 AM UTC