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"Dogs are man's best friends"
So he ignored the "woof! woof!!"
... now, gunshots sound... "WOOF!!!"
After a lifetime

Of heartaches and headaches

Emotional numbness threatens...

She told me her feelings

But I told her my intentions...*


© Raphael Uzor
Keeping it real. No fantasies!
Was all I needed
To wield
The power of love*


© Raphael Uzor
10w
kissing you was like swerving into oncoming traffic

i can never tell if i am more haunted by empty picture frames or the ashes of their contents

you taught me that the saying "pick your battles" meant not answering when love was at the door

sometimes when i drink whiskey i swear i can hear your voice in the creases of my bedsheets & i sleep on the floor

i still catch myself running my hands over things you touched the most, looking for the echoes of your fingertips

i practice things i'll never say to you

i remember the day you told me you didn't like poetry, how "everything's already been said" & how "nothing meaningful can be captured without being cliche" you know, i don't miss you like the sun and moon, i do not miss you like tide bent waves crashing on the shoreline, i miss you like a chernobyl  swingset misses children

rumor has it that drowning is a lot like coming home, that drinking bleach can **** the butterflies in your stomach

for your love of cigarettes, i would have been an ashtray

this halloween i want to dress up as the you when you loved yourself and show up on your doorstep

i never understood what you meant when you said i was an instrument, back when you would cup your hands around my chest and breathe through the holes in my heart, i still wonder if the sounds i made remind you of wind chimes

i never paid much attention to abandoned buildings until i became one

in my dreams all the flowers smell like your perfume

i am the only person who has ever wished for the same snowflake to fall twice

if i could go back, and rewrite the definition of audacity, it would be how when we lost the bet of love, you said "we never shook on it"

i love you, if the feeling is not mutual, please pretend this was a poem

the only apology i want from you, is to have you repeat the names of children we will never have in your parents living room until they *****

we are the same person if you find yourself up at 4am dry heaving promises, or if you are kept awake by the laughter of those who've abandoned you

nobody ever told you that goodbyes taste like the back of stamps

sometimes i'm convinced that the only reason we hug, is so you can check my back for exit wounds
she was correcting
one  
     by
         one
all the mistakes of her past,
with an eraser and a pencil
in a bleak room painted clinical white.
I stood next to Jeanette
on the sports field
it was sports day
and she was in

her gym skirt and top
and I was in
black sports shorts
and a white shirt

what are you in?
I asked  
she looked at me
100yards run

and a relay
she said quietly
are you any good?
I asked

I can run ok
her friend Angela
next to her
a blonde haired girl said

she's fast
is she now?
I said
yes

Angela said
she'll get us house points
that's for sure
what are you in then?

Jeanette asked
I’m down for the 100 yards
that's all
and that was a mistake

as I didn't mean to run
as fast in the trials
but the other kids
were so slow

she nodded her head
and said
but at least
you'll get your house

some points
I couldn't careless
about house points
I said

she looked away
a race was about to start
girls were lined up
at the lower end

it's being apart of a team
Jeanette said
doing one's best
if I was in your house

I'd run every race
I said
but you're not
she said

no that's why
I don't give a ****
the girls were off
down the track

a lean tall girl
was ahead of them
a lone tubby girl
brought up the rear

there was cheering ons
and shouts
of COME ON
RUN RUN

from the crowds
I looked at Jeanette
beside me
she was calling out softly

moving her hands
she was thin
and her legs were long
but more shapely

than I’d thought
she looked along
the other end
where the lean girl

came in first
come on
Angela said
and taking Jeanette

by the hand
they ran down
to the line
for the next race

I watched them go
the girl Angela
dumpy and blonde
and Jeanette

thin and tall
with a lovely sway
which I thought
capturing it

in my mind
with my camera eye
would stay with me
all day.
SCHOOL SPORTS DAY IN 1962  AND A BOY AND GIRLS.
I guess you could call it poetic how by the age of 12 I had no recollection of what happiness tasted like on my tongue. Some would say it was tragically beautiful.
But it was not poetic, nor was it beautiful,  but it was tragic. It was so very, very sad, and that sadness is only doubled now that people see sorrow as glorious.  It is not glorious. It is not strength. It is a lump of iron in your chest and stomach and it eats you from the inside, out and you have no right to think that blood stained wrists are anything other than tragic. So very,  very tragic.
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