I watched marriage as she gasped for air.
It was a pain that I could no longer bear.
Marriage had been so good to me.
To see her taking her last breath was slowly killing me.
I tried to give her mouth to mouth resuscitation
But my memories of what she had become made me fill will anger and devastation.
She tried to hold on and so did I
But there comes a time when you must let her die
I hated to see marriage go
Her heart beat began to go slow
Her chest no longer rose as she breathed her last breath
It was sad to see marriage go through this last test
But even in death new seeds can be sewn
New hope can be grown
But the true pain from the loss will never be known....
Until you watch the Death of a Marriage.

©Nikki the Pen

“This’ll be her last winter”
My father says in a
Soft sort of way
The same words I’ve heard him say
Countless times before
He always had an understanding
Of life and death
and A quiet acceptance of both

As we drove the road sides
Were littered with bodies and snow
Corpses waiting until spring
To decompose

He’ll never worry again
About being the last one left
The people mill about as if
Nothing’s changed at all
but He can’t stop looking at
The place where she used to sit
and It hasn’t quite sunk in yet
That she’s gone, forever
He’ll never see her again
She’s never coming back
and He can’t shake the feeling that
He no longer belongs in this place
He can’t move on and he
Can’t go home
Because she is dead
She is dead and he’s
He is the one that remains

This was her last winter and she
Nearly made it through
He holds his tea between his fingers
and Looks at me as he whispers,
“This’ll be my last, too.”

When I saw that the black had permeated
Every last vein, nail, and hair
and That it finally stopped to rest
Deep inside me, somewhere
I pulled out my best knife
and I rolled up my sleeves
Without thinking, I tore open the skin
and What I found wasn’t regret, but relief

I watched as one by one
They milled about and then out of the room
They stopped to peer inside the box
Before they left, they each caught
A glimpse of the beast that
Loomed underneath
No one dared to touch the thing
The oddity that had become me

So I guess they wouldn’t have known
I was harmless back then
I wasn’t a monster yet
I guess it doesn’t matter now
Like everything else, it’s water under the bridge

It was November in Houston
I remember because the leaves
Were crunching under my feet
and The air had this stagnant, hot feeling
but The breeze was cool
and Soothing to me
Just cool enough for long sleeves

She lived just up the street
I had a place to park my car and put my things
She was a piece of work, to put it lightly
Better it be her than me

I was a monster back then
but I didn’t know it yet
Sometimes ignorance
Has a kinder effect

Amazing the things that stick to us as we grow
Things burrowed so deep that we don’t even know

She wanted so badly
To believe that she loved me
That what we had was
Something of meaning
She took me to a psychic,
A palm reader
In hopes she could fix things
Instead I did coke in their picturesque bathroom
and Met you in the car after my fix

Thinking about it now makes me sick
but Like you always say,
“It is what it is”
That was a decade ago
Almost a lifetime
Another person ago
A different time in my life

I’ve closed the door
and In my mind
I’ve left the mirror girl behind
I watched her face pale
As she stepped back into the mist
Then she slipped into the darkness,
Irretrievable

and The part that wants to drive
This whole mess into the canyon
Drew great satisfaction
From my demise
Her eyes faded to black
and It seemed almost familiar
I can almost put my finger on it
I guess either way, though
I’d prefer the ladder

My Black Matters ©NikkiR

Politicians sit back while their pockets get fatter
Watching young people **** each other
As the violence we hear gets louder

My black matters
You say I speak incorrectly because my chatter "ain't" like your chatter
My dialect isn't what you expect, but these degrees I represent
Are displayed so you won't forget that my dialect had no influence and no matter what you say, the world can't undo it!

My black matters
I wear my hair natural
But if my natural is offensive to you
Be offended because my natural is oh so beautiful

My black matters
I will continue to climb higher
You will not hinder my elevation
Because my black will rise above all deprivation!

Take a Look at Me by Nikki R.

Take a look at me. I am like an Eagle.  I know you see me soaring.
Better yet, compare me to a lioness.  I know you hear me roaring.
Take a look at me.  Watch and learn.
I have so much to give and expect little in return.
Take a look at me.  My potential is glaring.
Take a look at me.  Trust me, I won’t stop you from staring.
Please understand that you can’t define my elevation by your lack of motivation.
You can’t dull my illumination by throwing shade in your conversations.
You can’t stop my zeal because my joy—you will never steal.
Take a look at me.  What do you see?  Take a look at me.
I Am She!  ©Nikki R.

My Temperament by ©Nikki R.

My temperament is like the warmth of a summer's day
My smile illuminates and shines through clouds as the trees soak up all the photosynthetic rays.

It takes more than a storm to rattle me
I will not be moved by people who fail to see the iridescent beauty that is within me.

My temperament can be like the oceans and the seas.  
Don't think I'm incapable of rising with the tide to defend my pride.

My temperament can be like a raging storm or a gentle rain shower that quenches the thirst of spring flowers.

My temperament.  It is what defines me.
It is my temperament. So, don't you dare judge me.

My temperament is Me and I AM SHE!

#poetry #poem #poet #spokenword #womeninpoetry #author #IAMSHE

© 2016 Nikki R.

Oftentimes I find myself
staring at the sky,
drifting away
on clouds
and daydreaming of
your cerulean eyes.

I get lost in the memories,
and find myself in a daze.
Reality often seems futile
when I'm adrift
in this lustful haze.

My heart is
broken and bruised;
I know you want me too,
but how will I ever find you
while we're lost
in this maze.

And how am I supposed to stop missing you
when the cerulean sky
is consistently reminding me
of your cerulean eyes
and the bittersweet memories
that we held on
beautiful, nostalgic days.