A score out of 10
My norm would be 1 on the language of love
Devoid of expression
Extremely misunderstood
Unable to utter love

Love is an art to many
A science to some
But an alien to me

In attempting to communicate love
Gifts and parties were thrown
How would that be matter now, because I lost you nonetheless

Softly now and melt away, the pain begins to dim,
Softly now the fog surrounds, she wants to be with him,
Softly for the passage of time, the wind upon my face,
Softly for the emptiness of a long ago embrace.

Softly now for precious things, the fragile and the frail,
Softly as the touch of snow, that melts upon the dale,
Softly as the candlelight, that flickers round the room,
Softly as I hear my heart, boom, boom, boom .

Softly is the hush of night, her breath upon my chest,
Softly as the touch of silk, my hand upon her breast,
Softly in the dawn of day, she’ll take my breath away,
Softly when the petal falls, her name you’ll hear me say, softly, softly, softly.


Tony
30/1/1999

Etched in my mind is a picture of my teenage self beside the fire place
A big empty home filled with material abundance and devoid of any emotions
Taboo is it now to feel?

Entrenched in my memory is not the emptiness I felt in this home
It is not the cold distant void that resonated to my bones despite the blazing fire
It is not how little and placid I  had to make myself in order to fit and conform

What will forever stay with me is the discussion my parents were having
When the words rolled out of my fathers cigar filled mouth
“I don’t like girls, I always wanted a boy”
The words rolled with seamless grace
The words landed with a heavy shade
Baggage that confirmed what has already been looming in my monkey brain
Baggage that I carry to this day

Expectations of what I should and should not be
A ****** dictating my identity
Anticipation of the life I was to lead
A self proclaimed prophecy
To walk down the isle of patriarchy
To conform, to shrink to the role bestowed upon me
To bottle up my dreams, my thoughts, my needs
To follow the path that serves men
To stay small so they can feel big
To nurture and raise a family
To just nurture and raise a family
To be unseen
To keep the peace

You can always tell a self destructive writer
By their poetry

Because sometimes they are redundant
And other times they are expressing pain

But they always tell a story of being hurt
And locked into their own head

But this my dear, is why they write
Because the person in their head is trying to get out

Self destructive writers
Are usually dark

But when they are light
They tell you how perfect you are

So that you don't do the same thing
That they did to themselves

Self destructive writers
Don't want you to make their scars
On your arms