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You looked at me father, weren't my
eyes the reflection of yours, did I not
     smile in glazed view at the words
misunderstood but still a vibration
of what I heard in the womb of mother.

Yet, just because I'm not of male,
                        but female without my choosing
you want me to be just a memory.
Like a conception of love was voided
                         at the moment of my birth.

Woven in a blanket, angers voiced echoed
              I felt the taste of the air linger in
distasted tears as mother picked me up.
            kissing my lips, her tears of
                        pain and regret I could taste.

But father had me now, I was in the cold
             I felt his love dissipate.
             Silence was his voice now.
Not even a gentle goodbye,
but like yesterdays newspaper discarded.

Tears cradled my face, not understanding
             why this cold night grasped at me
more lovingly than fathers last embrace.
My expressions silenced as I ran out of tears.

I heard a mumbled voice,
                           not of father or mother.
But a gentle one of age, more secure in
the visible definition that I was a girl.
Holding me tightly, I heard others words.
I wasn't alone any longer, but what was my fate.

My daddy, told me the tale of my birth,
           and the implications of what back
then seemed like weakness.
But I have shown the world, that no matter
your gender it still has equal worth.

The past is a scar that still hurts,
        Never knowing my true family,
if they could ever have been called that.
But this family, this gentleman and my
        my loving mother, kept me warm.

Now I'm older, old mistakes of culture
        and religion are melding with modern
society, no longer are girls left to fend alone.
We are seen through eyes of love and compassion.
Not through the eyes of an abandonment of love.
Emptiness is a wholesome feeling
Consuming your hunger
Self-centered
Everything wrong
Were words enough to survive?

Empty sheets of paper on the floor of my mind

Empty was my desire all along
Empty of you, of me
Empty bottles
Another night I lost
Empty promises to stop

Empty heart with empty lungs
Empty organs on the floor
Let it go, feel nothing
Wait for the music to cut your skin

Empty eyes, the rains did not come.
At the end of the road called bitterness, you find an unlocked chest with a note pinned, "it wasn't worth it."

You open the box and find all the memories of her you robbed from yourself, but they're rotted and molded because you neglected the one thing you bet your life on.

You finally decide to let go of the pain you made yourself addicted to and then you see you hurt yourself more than she hurt you. You hurt her more than she admitted.

The toll for the road called bitterness is one good heart. The destination is a dead end.
I don't need a time machine
to take me back to that moment
The songs take me back
back to when I was trying to
figure out myself
figure out life
I get lost in the songs
close my eyes
I am content to just pretend
that I'm wild and free
and yes that I am young again
The songs take me back :)
Happy Friday HP :) xoxo
There was no one...
So I spoke as if a secret
into the wind.

I told it,

“You may blow your skeptic tune.
Your quiet whistles of doubt.”

“Exhale if you must,
upon the countenance of her face.
Run your invisible fingers
through her hair...
Taste her lips like you would
the surface of the lake in the sun-shy morns.”

“Then you would dispel all disbelief.
You would take these words I say,
and know why confide in you.
You would know why I had fallen.
And you would know why
you would then be my messenger...”

“So that you could word the song
I could never sing.
You could caress her face
when my fingers could not.
You could kiss and fill her lungs
with all that she needs when I am gone.”


.
what of the seed perfumes the form of the
bud  the color of her petals her flow through
the cycle some wisdom or design
has to be in the manifest depth of that circle
creating a seed once more to shed light on a scented perfume
tall the flower grows in total beauty, you say
it is intangible where the design emanates
but riddles are for man to unravel
in all his sciences prose and poems
and for all the life's cycles
what we discover and decide usually leads
to many amazements
You sit in your covey all
Conforming to its boxy confines
Every corner filled to its limit
With fleshy retreats
The box constraining your minute
The corners defining your
Face your shoulders
Your thighs pressed to your cheeks in grimace the cardboard
Outlining your
Territory you've yet to explore
The whole thing.
And wonder about the things
Yet you may find when
You explode
From the constraints
What size may you become
What shape other than
Square. What space
You will find
When someday you come to find
The box was all in your mind
And the limits all fake
And self-imposed.
'Twas eventide of a dead summer's day
Whilst prostrate by shores of loneliness
When a violent tide of love swept his way
And drew him into a sea of pure ecstacy.

Effulgent stars all decked in flocks bright
Sprinkled their timelessly ethereal glow
Upon a vast shadowy looming veil, night,
While floods of kisses showered his brow.

Dreaming of lands beneath the rainbow,
Lands where blossoms of love never vade
But ever as fresh as dew upon the bough,
Or sweet aroma of flow'rs by a glade.

Alas! Little the swain knew how to swim
Hence dreamt never turning back ashore.
But this, all this was but a bootless dream
For as thee and me all truly dost know,

Long ago, in that sea deep his soul fell
Doomed to sight shores of bliss nevermore,
For of swimming, love she knew well
Hence decamped out of sight evermore.


©Kikodinho Edward Alexandros, Kampala, Uganda. 17th.July.2018.
#tale #swain #maiden
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