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2.4k · Jun 2014
Bittersweet.
Cheyanne Ntangu Jun 2014
The thunder-storm of my deepest, darkest blues but at the same time my peace, my calmest of oceans.
With him my highs are complete.
my very own overdose of intoxicating substance, bought highs that's only cheap thrills,
this high can last a life time
but when the high is gone I feel all shades of blue but the lows are worth the intoxication. It's not a bond worth breaking.

how can he be my strength and weakness right at the same time?
how can the negatives and positives be entwined?
this bittersweet love, this mandarin-oranges juice that drips right on my tongue.
this pineapple juice with bits situation, this bittersweet love.
this bittersweet love, filled my plain canvas with colour, fresh wounds are open.
this colour palette of cut up feelings and emotions that gives my black and white canvas colour, love.

this bittersweet love, you're my good morning and good night,
my hello and my goodbye,
you're my random smile,
my dark knight,
the one who has my soul
you're my bus journey thought, my topic of conversation, you're my...do I look right? Do I feel right?

you're  my depression,
you're my sadness
and my question why.
you're my confusion
but all my answer are found in you. You're my death trap
but you're the only one that can save me.
it's a catch 22 and that's all on you, that's the predicament you put me in but you're willing to save me, right?
you're that overdose,
that high,
this bittersweet love
The lows are worth intoxication
It's a bond not worth breaking

By Cheyanne Ntangu
Kind of an old poem
2.2k · Jul 2014
Misunderstanding.
Cheyanne Ntangu Jul 2014
But I didn't mean to fall for you
I didn't mean for our paths to cross
because if I could undo our friendly encounter
I would give every penny of my earnings
everything pound, every diamond
EVERYTHING
because our highs weren't high enough
& our lows caused this darkness to rain inside of me
I swear it was an accident, Cupid made a mistake
This is an old poem.
2.0k · Jul 2014
Curious soul.
Cheyanne Ntangu Jul 2014
If it wasn't for my curiosity,
I would have never of sold the body of my love to the demons of the world for them to get intimate with,
for them to fornicate with.
curiosity kills,
but he was still the
sweetest
piece
of
sin.

I give it up,
I gave my love virginity away
to the seeds of Adam.
The ones that woman was made from the dust of
I need cleansing,
I want what I once had back

If I knew I would have never of
played in loves playground,
and this is all because
of my curiosity.

By Cheyanne Ntangu
This is a re-vamp of my poem love virginity, I shorten it and picked my favourite section
1.6k · Jun 2014
Hollywood smile.
Cheyanne Ntangu Jun 2014
You're deeply hurt, but you smile
Your eyes tells your story
You're smiling hard, masking something not even worth a smile.
That fake Hollywood smile, a smile not even worth a dime.

Your eyes give you away
Your friendly gestures and flirtatious nature are both as meaningless as the words that you say.

You're walking around trying to attract a brother, to prevent you from thinking about another. You say you can get any other, but you just want that one brother.

Stop acting tough
       You don't have to hold on
                           Let your soul cry

By Cheyanne Ntangu
827 · Jul 2014
L'homme
Cheyanne Ntangu Jul 2014
He's so beautiful
with his midnight ebony skin
& well sculpted physique
I crave to touch the descendant of Adam
I want our bodies to connect
& become as one
He's beautiful,
beautifully refined,
a breath of fresh air
An intelligent soul
I'm in awe of him
& his name, a sweet benediction to my lips

By Cheyanne Ntangu
716 · Jun 2014
Pleasures.
Cheyanne Ntangu Jun 2014
I wish to know the secrets and desires of what pleases the opposite ***. I wish I understood what is it to please a man.
A small piece of sacrifice I give, to fall victim of the phallocentric gaze. What is it to please a man? Is it a dazing smile with crystal white teeth or the tiny waist and nice hips?
A woman with lips so effortlessly pink and pumped? Now I find myself looking at the mirror, holding and breathing in, trying to figure out why I haven’t got that figure 8.
Again, falling victim of the phallocentric gaze.
But a gaze never lasts, it’s a simple glance.
But it’s a thrill, a deception I wear like skin

I talk to myself, I talk to mirrors, I ask mirror, mirror on the wall who is the fairest of them all?
Because mirror I am by far not the fairest,
my beauty still sleeps in the mist of the unknown.
However, I am not the conventional woman and what man desires only man knows.
The covert obscurity is too blinding for my eyes, I cannot know.
I’m a lost soul and to find him, I have to find myself.
For I am just a rotten beauty trying find hope.
A crooked smile type beauty, skin filled with scars, got me still searching for my original pigment

Human pleasures, worldly pleasures, what is to please a man?
A poem with couple of beautiful rhymes or a conversation about politics and how society stole our dreams and visions.
An obedient woman, would that please a man?
Perhaps a hyper-****** woman, a voulez vous coucher avec moi but not ce soir my darling, I got my **** to get together.
For half these brothers are not worth the sin.
Half of these brothers aren't willing to fall into the hell of heartache for a woman. For half of these brothers can only offer me a quick message saying, “come see me”, and as an obedient ***** for me to follow. Laying with him to see how good the nature of man feels. For our skin to touch and our bodies mesh, bring our warmth to feel electric.

I need saving from myself and my desires shouldn’t be to please a man, but to please me. My heart shouldn’t skip a beat because my beauty or character was judged by a man, but my heart circulation continues due to the excellence that was given to me. So falling victim of the phallocentric gaze is no longer my issue but being something greater is my goal. So what is to please a man, I shall never know. But what is to please me?

- Cheyanne Ntangu
Cheyanne Ntangu Jul 2014
From the moment of my procreation. My story was written, nature took its cause and **** happened. I was assigned to live freely according to my will but he? He was unexpected and I was clueless. Yet he was my one desire he filled me so elegantly. However, he was something, someone out of my reach . He was something, someone not written in the law of my nature

Emotions, they rained down and over my body, my soul, that liquid, dripping sensation, that toxin, that sin. Yet there was still that ****** I was oblivious of. Not every emotion I have felt, but I was yet to discover. The emotion I yearned to know was love. But the love I wanted to know, was not the love I needed to know. It was not written.

But my curiosity lend me to search what I thought was missing, having karma biting me on my  backside, teaching me a lesson leaving me scars and marks of my curiosity to remind me of my unrighteous sin, it which taught me to be patient with the world. But this hunger and strive that lived in me made it an obligation to soul search.

But it the mist of my soul search he had my everything of mine.
My mind,
my body,
my soul
and ....
my heart.
Black hearted, stone cold he gave two things his body and mind the rest was not written in the laws of my nature.


By Cheyanne Ntangu
This is an old poem but a good one. This was my first proper attempt of writing a poem, ****.
660 · Jul 2014
You.
Cheyanne Ntangu Jul 2014
Whisper sweet words to my ears,
echo to me your favourite poem
mark your territory on my skin
make my body feel electric
for my body is your canvas
And this is art we're making.

By Cheyanne Ntangu
659 · Aug 2015
Anti-summer-love
Cheyanne Ntangu Aug 2015
Summer is the season where I'm all up in my feelings.
I start missing people I shouldn't miss,
wanting things I shouldn't want.
Praying that we cross paths even though I know that's a bad idea, but I'm still optimistic.

And why am I feeling like this anyway? 19 years old waiting on imagery, believing in fantasies. And these emotions are real and raw. These emotions cut deep and no knife can create a deeper wound.

I'm telling you my mind is a dangerous place. I don't like to be alone. I am my own personal killer. I don't need no additionally help, I pull my own trigger and it's sickening to know that I can do this to myself. And it's sad to know that I can't save me from myself.

How can summer be so cold? How can summer steal my inner glow? Even my skin has lost its radiance. ****, I wonder how's the winter going to be.
590 · Nov 2014
Mr lover
Cheyanne Ntangu Nov 2014
Dear mr lover
brother, fellow lover
you came to mind
you're a type of blues
A hint of funk
& I thank Jah for that
Now brother, fellow lover,
your name has a certain ring to it
So I thank your mother for that

Now mr lover
why you so shy?
You're a man of swagger right?
A man with an ego too big for his own good
the man of night
The thief, the predator
A man that walks that walk
& talks that talk
One who holds his own

A kicking it back kinda guy
you just tryna keep it cool, right?
A smooth type of brother

But see mr lover
Your eyes give it away
they burn like flames

mr lover your cool demeanor is front, ok.
See your body language reads differently. the body of the mind is what I comprehend
your body language is what I'm fluent in
& mr lover it's the language of possibilities
This poem was inspired by the film Love Jones
517 · Jun 2014
Beyond love, me.
Cheyanne Ntangu Jun 2014
If I forget about the generic teachings of love and scratched the surfaces of my existence, perhaps love would be more than just an abstract noun to me. And perhaps I would embrace love with open arms. Because love, love is magic

But love is dangerous and I don't want to be dangerously in love, but even its ungodly form, love is pure. Because love, love is magic



- Cheyanne Ntangu
461 · Jun 2014
The End.
Cheyanne Ntangu Jun 2014
The End.

I’m still wondering if you were the best thing
or the worst thing that ever happened to me
I wore a tough face, and yet I was bearing such delicate features
my eyes sung a song of pain and resentment

p.s. good things come to an end because better things come out of it, freedom.

I’m glad it’s the end.  

- by Cheyanne Ntangu
455 · Aug 2015
Butterfly
Cheyanne Ntangu Aug 2015
Just like the caterpillar that
turns into a butterfly, 
things take time 
I was upside down 
building my cocoon 
I covering me 
So I could show you the best of me
Yet your patience
was already wearing thin
But my cocoon stage had only just begun
Nothing I did was being prolonged
nothing was overdue. 
I was building me
but you didn’t quite seem 
to understand the beauty of it all
But I continue to build, 
I am in no rush
It takes awhile to see **** grow 
It takes awhile for me to warm up to you 
It takes awhile for you to be able to read me like an open book
but you gave up on me
you didn’t even try
you couldn’t quite see the beauty of it all
why can’t we just take our time? 
I am worth the wait 
I have so much love to give 
but I’m selfish with my love
I don’t want run out of love 
****…
I don’t want run out of you
why are you so impatient with me?
to you I am just a caterpillar 
with no potential
one who is not worth the wait
maybe this is not for us 
Or maybe your eyes were not worthy enough to see me outside my cacoon 
because you couldn’t quite see 
the beauty of it all.
425 · Jul 2014
Dedicated to you.
Cheyanne Ntangu Jul 2014
dear beautiful lover
I thought about you today
I'm completely and utterly in awe of you
I am smitten by all your shades of ebony
I can imagine you standing right before in all your shades of almighty

my king, it seems that we are fighting against distance, time and gravity
we are in our own universe
this gravitational phenomenon caused this soul to attract
to
you

you intrigue me
& I want to explore you
physically
mentally
& emotionally  

I want to absorb you
soak you up like sponge
I want to fill up the hunger of my curiosity
with
you

I want to feed off of your intellects
be drowned in you intellects
I want to be attached to you in
every
single
way

I want you to write tasteful poems about me, as I do about you

but my everything,
it seems we are fighting against
distance, time and gravity
but maybe this is interlude
& our time will come
until then I shall just admire you from a distance
& write secret poems about you
until my pen runs out of ink

By Cheyanne Ntangu
295 · Jul 2014
Untitled.
Cheyanne Ntangu Jul 2014
It's 7:52pm and I lay here in darkness
The sun light seeps through my blinds and the same way I watch the sun set, is the same way I watch the sun raise. My depression deprives me of sleep.
I lay here reading love novels all day. which only deepens my depression, as I yearn for it to be me. Even the characters  pain seems more exquisite than mine.

What's wrong with me? How can I be so young and feel so old? Even my inner goddess is getting rusty.
What beauty do I have left?

But I choose to mourn in silence, with this  strange feeling in my chest but I don't cry. My face remains emotionless. No one will understand the mist of my struggles, besides I'm too broken, too ****** up to be fixed, or to be wanted.

By Cheyanne Ntangu
270 · Jul 2015
Pray for ya
Cheyanne Ntangu Jul 2015
I may not hit you up everyday but I still pray for you, talk about you, think of you. I always wonder what you're doing and if you're doing okay. I wonder if you need my affection as much as I need yours. What I'm feeling right now is more than a helpless want. And these feelings might go away but right now they are realer than ever. And I only want the best for me, the best for you and I could be the best for you.

I may not talk to you everyday but I still pray for you, I ask God to protect you because if something happened to you my heart might just stop and a part of me just might get lost. Isn't it funny? I hardly know you but I feel like you're a part of me.  

I hope this lasts longer than the days of summer, longer than any season because this **** right here has deeper meaning and if it doesn't for any reason, just know I will always appreciate you and I will always pray for you.
First draft

— The End —