Strong love
Sensitive love
Sweet love
Sweet like grandma’s clove buds
Sacred love
It sways like the baobab
Vulnerable love
Rich, illustrious love
Love of royalty
Call upon the mandrills
When that love is near
Love of great passion
It lives falsely depicted in the white world’s sphere
Misunderstood
Bold & humble
Kente clothed in pride
Wrapped in honor
Ask me what it means to hold you
My protector
My nurturer
I’d answer it is because you heal me
Strengthen me
Sensuous love
synchronized love
valiant love
timeless love
Of sticks and steel,
Between brazen sugar cane fields and bronze sunsets
I will find you
Home-bound
Smart love
It beats through the pulse of the djembe
rhythmic, lyrical love
Ah, listen
listen
Do you hear her?
Mereba
Professed on the caves
Ancient love
It lives deep
In the valleys
It skips with stones down the beaten Congo’s path
In the wells of my soul
It is whole
My, it is so whole
They crave it
a special love
The man by the river tells stories of how rare
Comet-bound
“If you seek it, treasure it”
Story tellers say
For it is gold
Rich in comfort, valuable and eternal
Callused and sun drenched
Serengeti love
Ever more Prideful
It dances through winds
The island whispers of its arrival
The lovers
The fortuners
The black love
M. Yeboah
Jun 30, 2020
Jun 30, 2020 at 5:40 AM UTC
Myths, fables, and folklores could never tell a story about heartache better than the hopeful girls with big hearts and teary brown eyes.
You try to tell lies to the girl who was promised the world and more. She will take them as truth, then be dealt regret and torment.
Who no matter how fast she runs. Her fears. Her thoughts. The chaos. won’t stop chasing her.
She is not resilient. She is rickety. Worn down. Forgotten.
There.
Try telling that same girl with the big heart and teary brown eyes that she’s beautiful.
You would be mocking her.
Her body swells with cuts, gashes, wounds deeper then the Mariana.
Trench.
She has battle scares she can’t battle.
But she wears them on that scratch board she calls her body.
If she were truly ‘beautiful’ in soul, spirit, and in nature. Wouldn’t she get treated as such?
Wouldn’t she reap the ripest benefits? Wouldn’t she be a figure of some sort? Adored? Protected?
No one lusts after her.
Answer me this. Why does she hold her chest at sunrise praying that today will be different as a symphony of pain swarms her? Why does she pray for nights so she can be unseen. Tucked away. Talking to the moon.
Why can’t she trust that a single human being won’t misuse her. Lie to her. Deceive her. Guilt trip her.
Hurt her.
Tell her I wish her the best because you will never be the girl who’s chosen. But you are beautiful enough to seep into the background. faded. Smoothed into the blurred lines of 20x 20 canvas.
The girl with the big heart and teary brown eyes has a smile full of the sun’s rays. When she cries it’s ugly. Bothersome. Dramatic.
But if her smile is so abundant, why does no one protest at its dismissal?
She didn’t ask to be an empath?
She didn’t ask to be empathetic
She can’t calm her storms.
Her treacherous waves.
Her wild fires.
Her wild thoughts.
She doesn’t smile like the sun anymore. She has No fuel to. No strength to. No power to. No reason to.
She once trusted maliciously. But they exploited that too.
Sometimes, people made her believe they wanted her. ALL of her. But she wasn’t special enough to stay. So they fled. Because all cowards have wings.
...hers had been gone so long ago, so she waited for the next person to swoon over. To believe in. She waited for the next person to break her down. To give her a reason to protect herself.
But she’s tired. Don’t you see? She’s done everything to make her pain be known. But they ignored her, laughed at her, demeaned her.
A Pandora’s box with a big heart and teary brown eyes. Why do you even try? Who will ever love you? The capacity of the love you carry will replenish everyone but you. Your love is a selfish man’s gold. If you love them, you lose you.
Offer them love, I know you won’t stop.
Offer them love, until they drain all of you. Until your pride runs dry
Offer them
Your body.
Your words.
Your pride.
Everything you are.
So they can shatter you, until you are no longer the girl with a big heart and teary brown eyes.
By Maame Nsiah-Yeboah
May 23, 2020
May 23, 2020 at 9:37 AM UTC
Oxblood lips. A slit in the center. A distraught film. Shattered pieces that mimic her wounds. She cries for sorrow and weeps in the name of agony. Flashback. High voltage. Dawn's dew left a Seoul night in the hands of mischief. He watched her golden legs in his dingy shirt. She danced in a tunnel of head lights. His eyes. Oh, God, his realm of roses. A spectrum so broad- no force could obtain. 70s misfit. Shaggy rugs. A cheap bottle of Merlot. Kaleidoscope kisses. Craved like a hieroglyphic. He was her warrior. Plummeting grains of virtue into a dust oriented cushion...seven dollars and thirty one cents. I saw the light bulb touch the birch-wood floral. I could feel a thick metallic wind roar. Breaking the depths. A rugged man with a festive beard. His cheeks of stained silicone lipstick. He had shipped off his soul. He was a white man with a grip of steel. "Who put cookies in the watering bucket?" A naive response. "A wicked man with a lustful cavity." Erosion.Despair.Angst. Thin braids housed a blooming mind. Paint chips splattered the table top, plastering it. Morning.Good morning to luxury. What a splendid contrast. A lantern lit van took the highway by 65 miles. And all the while he never looked back.
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 9:13 AM UTC
Wilted persona
Beautiful ignorance
a tale of light and dark
shappen lips-
we deprive ourselves
Taste.
lust of envy
our denial is criminal
bitterly off tasting
selfish.
There stands a vivid canvas
it reads eggshell
a Polaroid picture captured.
Sincerely empathy,
August night, we painted the windows fog
panting, we breathed
the color spectrum
dawn on me
my glorious illusion.
Feb 16, 2016
Feb 16, 2016 at 3:57 PM UTC
Yearn for a forgiving touch
For I crave you on this day
Can you address me yes?
Feb 16, 2016
Feb 16, 2016 at 3:46 PM UTC
We house intimate thoughts built upon contrasting poles. Echos of raging laughter; scratching against crystalline memories. Halted ache. Stagnant sorrow. I lay awake. The dimensions of my head sinks into the pillow like a solvent. Dissolving. A chemical combustion. As time lapses depression becomes me. Self-implicated torture. We negate apologies for a decadent virtue.
Feb 16, 2016
Feb 16, 2016 at 3:44 PM UTC
Let my body be your obstacle
Whisper- Ignite
Steer my conscious mind
May the stars alignment navigate you
And make cumbersome love
under the lavender tree
Feb 16, 2016
Feb 16, 2016 at 3:35 PM UTC
Cut- Raw
Up, over, down
What I want, you.
Is an understatement
You are a rose, petals so
Brittle, non-flourishment
Our feelings are a draw-bridge
An essence. A spark.
The most hyper-active form of devastation
Blades of confessions
Timid rejections
My imagination lingers
Victim, you are not
Nor a cob-web in a bed of lies
Trapped.
But a strike of cyan sensation
Misplaced
Mystic,
Brave
What is your depth?
Sharpen your arrow to hunt
words that went
Adrift.
Feb 16, 2016
Feb 16, 2016 at 3:29 PM UTC
Ocean waves chase shorelines
As the sun falls from the sky
Each grain of sand a memory
Of happy days gone by
I taste your tear drops in the ocean
And now I realize why
Each salty stream of sorrow's
Gonna haunt me till I die
I'll dance with you forever
You're the moon and I'm the tide
I'll willingly dive into love
And drown myself inside
May 25, 2015
May 25, 2015 at 7:34 PM UTC