"dreading" poems
Clothes have outgrown me many times over,
but this sadness never does.
One size.
fits all.
There should have been an obituary for cancer, not you.
Wishing these slits within my skin could have been
replaced by a reality check from you, “You chose to exist.”
My name causes a sigh to escape from lips,
that do not feel like they belong to me,
the girl,
whose words always had to be special.
The schematics of hospitals like a birthmark in my brain,
born into sadness, a gut feeling as a child.
Never trusting time
due to what it delivers.
Death, being the only thing I desired.
But you,
who I love,
endlessly-
robbed by it.
Whose ebb for life glowed so feverishly.
Stopped comparing depression to lace,
restricted the belief that suicide is poetic,
seeing things as they were.
More often than not, applauded for feeling emotions deeply.
Every second that dies, the shift of my heart quakes.
This world is not tender.
II. Sad.
I have known the flowers I wanted at my own premature funeral,
knowing how many bouquets honored you that day.
split open my veins like a dimension
reminiscent of days where I anticipated deathbeds.
My family wondered,
can we make it through another day?
Death scares me for what it has taken,
yet, I’m not afraid to die-
it’s all I deserve.
So I await the day pain erupts
from my throat,
acknowledging the days a soul
lived inside of my body-
footprints that walked,
belonging to me.
But I learned so well.
How to suffer with a smile,
dreading the beating of my heart
how unfair—
I don’t want to take these deep breaths
You deserved,while I masquerade as a member of the undead
Never outgrowing the desire to rot with the phantoms residing under my bed.
III. Jokes played by the universe.
punchlines delivered,
how could anyone to stand to be in the same room as myself?
How could anyone look over skyscrapers and sunsets,
and not be infatuated with concrete consuming them?
How I shared a sigh of relief during the thought-
of knowing people would thrive without me,
or the power of a belly laugh,
resembling a laugh track audience
drowning out 3 AM suicidal thoughts.
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 11:23 PM UTC
We'll travel down the old stone path,
Wondering why these things started to change.
We'll walk along the old train tracks,
Thinking of all the words that we once sang.
And it's so hard to stay so young forever,
School and work and life get in the way.
You're just like the last day of summer,
Days feel like weeks, weeks feel like a day.
We'll run amongst the old beech trees,
And count our blessings, dreading August's end.
We'll sing about another time,
When we can be together once again.
And it's so hard to stay so young forever,
School and work and life get in the way.
You're just like the last day of summer,
Days feel like weeks, weeks feel like a day.
Sep 1, 2013
Sep 1, 2013 at 11:57 AM UTC
Here I stood with ***** crystals beneath my feet and waited for the sky to turn golden.
Here I laughed into the echoing tunnel under my home as wet earth dripped on my skin.
Here I learned about parenthood among feathers and little eggs and ungodly morning crows.
Here I gloated about the manhood which sprouted from under my arms and in my mischievous thoughts.
Here I waited till dark to meet him in secret all the while dreading the sound of tires on gravel.
Here I buzzed with excitement as the boys had their lazy Sunday afternoon.
Here his freckles came close to mine as he softly said "you're so beautiful" with Bruno Mars playing in the background.
Here I said I would never grow up.
Here I comforted her with my pain because I had to be brave.
Here I forgot that being called "muddy children who act like savages " was considered an insult.
Here I cried into the stars for reasons I didn't understand.
Here I walked on hands and feet with happy little scratches and silent giggles.
Here only the sound of our beating hearts and delicate pride could be heard as I held him close.
Here I sang at the top of my favorite tree and waited for the words to hurt him as much as he hurt me.
Here the glow of a flashlight illuminated our tent as I asked her if she liked me like that.
Here a little piece of me was left sitting on a branch waiting to capture the next magical heart.
Here I wrote "I love you" on a mango leaf only to realize that he spelled love differently.
Here I sat beneath bright green trees and pondered my not-so-complicated life.
Here my words came out blurry and my stomach swayed like a sail boat out on a windy morning.
Here my hands went numb as I raced to the end of his life.
Here I visit through pictures and messy journals to remember the little things that are now so so big.
Here I left muddy footprints now covered with grass, but here they will stay.
Sep 16, 2018
Sep 16, 2018 at 5:13 PM UTC
The sky is falling
The people are hiding
The jackboots are on their way
A mother is calling
A child is crying
Uncertain they'll live through the day
The tanks, they are treading
Across sovereign borders
Some soldiers are dreading
Their inhumane orders
Though they have an advantage
This war can't be won
And that "collateral damage"
Is somebody's son
The victims of war
Are the poor and the sick
Slaughtered like cattle
For the wealthy and rich
Jan 13, 2016
Jan 13, 2016 at 8:47 PM UTC
Another drink,
Another smoke.
One more story,
One more book.
A long day out,
A night awake.
Two more songs,
Four more games.
Daydreaming again,
Creating stories in her head.
Dreading the moment,
she's alone once again.
“I’m fighting my demons,”
She says.
“I’m pushing them away.”
He shakes his head.
“My dear, it seems to me,
That you are running away.”
Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 7:36 PM UTC
I wrote about you, day and night
You are my moon, you are my sun
I wished for the day when we would finally unite
Like the stars in the galaxy, shining bright
I was dreading the fact that the day might never come
When you wrap me in your arms and tell me it's fine
When you utter those words and protect me for life
My dread was increasing, my hopes were decreasing
I slowly shattered into a deep despair
Losing all senses of a fulfilled life and hope
I thought that the fantasies and dreams in my head are unrealistic and are merely an illusion
But then there you were, my protector, my hero
You grabbed me right at the end of the cliff and held me tight
You reassured and brought my soul back to life
You were my protector, and I was yours
We are now, now and forever, inseparable
For we suffered too long in the absence of one another
Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 2:30 PM UTC
vacation was little hands holding onto mine,
hazel eyes looking up at me.
mouth pulled into a toothy grin,
a two year old giggle.
saying “i love you” and dreading “goodbye”vacation was hearing “aunty pizza!” all week long
it was snuggles and playtime.
it was a silent house without you.
vacation was melting crayons and staying up late.
vacation was my week with Lacey and I wish I had it back.
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 8:38 PM UTC
I took a plane here
I didn't come by boat
I crashed into the ocean
but i learned how to float
I loved it here
when i first came around
The more i explored
the more things i found
Sparkling rivers and deep seas
these are a few of my favorite scenes
From the golden beaches and very tall trees
the animals can run free
But as time goes on
the excitement is gone
I finally know in this nightmare of dreams
everything here is not what it seems
I now know i am stranded on this island of misery
I spend everyday dreading the never ending sea.
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 5:31 PM UTC
*Silver flame burn in her eyes
as she tries to hold back her tears
Dark shining fires
shooting like spears
beating beats of fear.
Rain drops falling the greyness
in the field, by the river
shine of the diamond
devoid of the glitter
slowly the sparks die.
Rings don't bond them back
unstretched the spring
broken ties, empty hearts
unopened carts
but a game of cards.
Moved back in position
dreading the new season
searching the reasons
blaming themselves
in those eerie silences.
Fighting themselves to break
but trying in hearts another stitch
the tear too large
a very hard wreck
unlikely to be any merger.*
Dec 7, 2017
Dec 7, 2017 at 10:39 AM UTC
Am I really
The air that you breathe?
'Cuz I'm ready
To see the truth behind your lies.
I'm still dreading
When they shape into your eyes.
I've yet to shed a tear.
Bleeding tongues,
Burning hands...
That sound still hurts my head.
A click of the hammer,
My dreams will spill out,
This is my answer
To my questions of doubt.
Take away
That tone in your voice.
Shake me awake when you go;
For I long
To be
Close to you.
She cries out to her god
She begs him to come.
I'm sorry my dear
But,
Bleeding tongues,
Burning hands,
That sound still lingers
In the back of my head.
I hope you realize your god is dead.
Your savior is gone.
Look at yourself,
Eating your cancer,
Showering me with
Pain that I know.
That fear in your heart
Is what keeps me around.
Your savior is nowhere,
Hiding in the clouds.
Please grasp this message
And look towards the ground.
The only thing you need,
Is the hope in your fear,
Now turn around, breathe
and face me my dear...
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 3:29 PM UTC
reach into our past, 'cause
we don't wanna look back
feeling for the memories
enough of all the pain please
hoping for consolence
always feeling cold since
all that we were never
turned into forever
trying to remember
stirring dying embers
doing it the hard way
darling no we can't stay
'cause.... we're...
fading fading fading
into oblivion
we're fading fading fading
into oblivion
dreading my tomorrow
fed up with the sorrow
left it on the back porch
burnt it with a lit torch
we said it was the end
tired of playing pretend but
where are all the good days?
back when we were always
dreaming of the future
never thought of after
'cause.... we're...
fading fading fast
fading fading fast
into oblivion
oblivion
stretching out the last bits
ignoring where regret sits
drifting off into space
i knew it was too late
'cause.... we're...
fading fading fading
into oblivion
fading fading fading
into oblivion.
Apr 5, 2013
Apr 5, 2013 at 10:37 AM UTC
When shall we learn, what should be clear as day,
We cannot choose what we are free to love?
Although the mouse we banished yesterday
Is an enraged rhinoceros today,
Our value is more threatened than we know:
Shabby objections to our present day
Go snooping round its outskirts; night and day
Faces, orations, battles, bait our will
As questionable forms and noises will;
Whole phyla of resentments every day
Give status to the wild men of the world
Who rule the absent-minded and this world.
We are created from and with the world
To suffer with and from it day by day:
Whether we meet in a majestic world
Of solid measurements or a dream world
Of swans and gold, we are required to love
All homeless objects that require a world.
Our claim to own our bodies and our world
Is our catastrophe. What can we know
But panic and caprice until we know
Our dreadful appetite demands a world
Whose order, origin, and purpose will
Be fluent satisfaction of our will?
Drift, Autumn, drift; fall, colours, where you will:
Bald melancholia minces through the world.
Regret, cold oceans, the lymphatic will
Caught in reflection on the right to will:
While violent dogs excite their dying day
To bacchic fury; snarl, though, as they will,
Their teeth are not a triumph for the will
But utter hesitation. What we love
Ourselves for is our power not to love,
To shrink to nothing or explode at will,
To ruin and remember that we know
What ruins and hyaenas cannot know.
If in this dark now I less often know
That spiral staircase where the haunted will
Hunts for its stolen luggage, who should know
Better than you, beloved, how I know
What gives security to any world.
Or in whose mirror I begin to know
The chaos of the heart as merchants know
Their coins and cities, genius its own day?
For through our lively traffic all the day,
In my own person I am forced to know
How much must be forgotten out of love,
How much must be forgiven, even love.
Dear flesh, dear mind, dear spirit, O dear love,
In the depths of myself blind monsters know
Your presence and are angry, dreading Love
That asks its image for more than love;
The hot rampageous horses of my will,
Catching the scent of Heaven, whinny: Love
Gives no excuse to evil done for love,
Neither in you, nor me, nor armies, nor the world
Of words and wheels, nor any other world.
Dear fellow-creature, praise our God of Love
That we are so admonished, that no day
Of conscious trial be a wasted day.
Or else we make a scarecrow of the day,
Loose ends and jumble of our common world,
And stuff and nonsense of our own free will;
Or else our changing flesh may never know
There must be sorrow if there can be love.
5.1k
In all of my twenty years of life,
I have been many things.
A daughter
A sister
A friend
A lover
But now, I am no longer my father’s little girl.
My father doesn’t talk to me anymore;
He says that I don’t look him in the eyes,
And he is right, but not for the reason he believes
I am afraid to look him in the eyes
Because I don’t want to see myself reflected in them,
Proof of my failure to separate myself from him,
Proof that I am him and always will be him
I do not want to become my father,
Stuck in a marriage with no love left
Or love that is there
Only because it is supposed to be
I do not want to become my father,
Constantly on the verge of tiredness,
And whether that tiredness is directed at
His family or his life, I shall never know
Because I do not want to become my father
All sharp words and angry edges,
Keeping everyone around him on their toes,
Keeping my head on a swivel to not upset him
I do not want to be my father.
I do not want to make my children feel
as though they will never measure up to
Impossible standards, set way too high
I do not want to be my father,
Telling my daughter that she’s eating too much
And not looking at me enough,
Guilt-tripping her into half-hearted apologies,
Said with tears trembling in her eyes
I do not want to be my father.
I do not want my children to be frightened of me,
Dreading the thought of my arrival home
Waiting in fear of my reaction to something they’ve done
I do not want to be my father.
My home will be a gentle home,
Peaceful and quiet,
With no rage-filled shouting matches
I do not want to be my father,
Wondering where he went wrong with his daughter,
That she would stand in front of him, angry tears on her cheeks,
Screaming at him that she wishes that she were dead
I do not want to be my father.
Struggling to catch up with the times,
Grudgingly supportive of the daughter that is different,
The daughter that loves men and women,
But only because he has to be
I do not want to be my father
But I wish that sometimes,
I could be his little girl again,
Back when everything was ok
And it still felt like he loved me
I do not want to be my father,
But sometimes,
It feels as though
I will never be anything more
Jun 9, 2023
Jun 9, 2023 at 10:44 PM UTC
If I could have any ability in the world I would not want it to be the ability to stop time.
In the beginning I would use it to get work done or to get a little extra sleep before work or to get all of my tables their drinks and meals in seconds.
But it would not take long for me to start abusing it.
Suddenly I would find myself in a difficult position. I would convince myself that it was okay just this one time to postpone it just a little, to gain my thoughts, to mentally prepare but once would turn into twice. Twice into four times.
Four times would lead to eight.
Suddenly I would avoid every problem.
Every stumble.
Every single rough spot in my life would be a blink away from being paused.
Who is to say that it wouldn't become indefinite?
At some point I would become so obsessed with stopping time and avoiding every hardship that I might actually stop it
forever.
I would never let anything else hurt me
but would I smile or laugh?
I would never hold someone’s hand or wake up completely well rested with a breeze coming in my window and the smell of breakfast swimming under my nose.
The worst of it all is I would discover that in the end I was avoiding all that pain only to create on much worse;
the pain of not living.
Super powers are left to movies, comic books and my dreams yet people try to stop time
every day.
They do it by ignoring a phone call or avoiding a certain store or restaurant so they don't have to "deal" with some issue they are dreading.
But the truth is that those problems,
those things we work so hard to ignore are the best things that could ever happen to us.
If I took every negative thought and experience and eliminate it from my history, would I really be any happier?
Would I even know what happy is if I didn't know what it was like to be sad first?
Oct 17, 2010
Oct 17, 2010 at 11:01 AM UTC
The sun is setting,
The painted sky,
All I see is black lighting,
Which makes me cry.
The silence that kills,
My heart collides,
The fire drills,
All those painful rides.
The drips and drops,
Like on a rainy night,
A rabbit hops,
I see no light.
Dreading myself,
In endless sorrow,
In mindless shelfs,
The screaming crow.
And now it's the end,
Of this painful book,
Memories end,
My heart shook.
... I feel hopeless ...
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 10:15 AM UTC
Fingers make contact with hands,
we can’t stand like,
butter
flies
on
a
tree branch
amidst a strange wind.
Fluttering above
trees rooted in sidewalks,
out of sight.
And it feels like
the texture of our shirts
is truth,
the cat fur,
the bed sheets,
our clenched teeth,
Molly whispers in our head
a meditative melody,
and we’re rollin,'
our infinite eyes
hung together
in widened silence,
enjoying a good lie.
Indigo children
with no words, just hands,
applauding the feeling,
dreading the end.
Time past,
grown up,
deflated,
we come down
to see that
sober is just
categorizing
adjectives.
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 6:30 PM UTC
if words are food for the mind,
then here is a glimpse of mine
if words are drugs for the brain,
then here is why i'm so pained.
abandoned, abhorrent
abnormal, absent
abstract, abuse
addicted, anxious
betray, bitterly
blank, blasphemy
bloodless, breakdown
breathless, brutal
captive, casually
catastrophe, cautiously
change, cigarettes
crucial, clueless
damaged, dangerous
deadly, disastrous
disheartened, disconcerting
dramatic, dreading
eager, eccentric
ecstasy, eerie
effete, effortless
embittered, excess
faded, failure
faintly, fallacy
faltering, fatally
fearfully, finally
garbage, gawky
gibberish, gloomy
gone, goodbye
graphic, gratify
hallucinate, harshly
hazy, heartless
hectic, helpless
hesitant, hit-and-miss
idiotic, idly
ignorant, intimacy
illogical, imaginative
infatuated, intoxicated
jealousy, jittery
journey, journal
joylessly, judicial
junk, juvenile
keen, killing
knavish, knocking
knockout, knotty
knowingly, knowledge
laborious, lacking
lame, languishing
lifeless, literature
lovelorn, lugubrious
madness, maintenance
make-believe, malaise
mean, melancholic
mellow, melodramatic
naff, naivety
nameless, naturally
nauseous, nebulous
neglected, nervous
oasis, objectionable
obliged, obliterate
oblivion, obscurity
obsolete, one-and-only
pacifist, pained
pale, panicky
paradise, paralyze
passionately, passively
raging, ranting
rationalize, raving
realistic, reasonable
rebellious, reckless
saboteur, sadness
sake, sameness
sanity, satisfactory
scar, steady
taint, tangled
tasteless, tearful
telling, temperamental
terror, theoretical
unaffected, uncanny
uncommon, unconsciously
undesirable, uneasy
unfortunate, untidy
vaguely, vanish
vanity, vanquish
versatile, vicious
violence, voracious
waiting, waking
walkout, wanting
wasteful, weary
withering, wrecking
if words are food for the mind,
then you've seen a glimpse of mine
if words are drugs for the brain,
then no wonder i'm so pained.
-djs
Aug 5, 2013
Aug 5, 2013 at 11:21 PM UTC
Tick, tick,
Down, down,
the watch beeps
On the hour,
Every hour,
I always hear it,
I go to bed at nine,
And can hear it counting,
Ten,
Eleven,Twelve
One,
Two,
ThreeFourFive
Now I have to wake up in an hour and a half,
I didn’t sleep,
Should I have done something instead?
Maybe done that essay,
Or finished those slides,
I have so much work to do
But I’m stuck inside
My own head, filled with
This fog of exhaustion
And confusion,
Why can’t I just
Fall
A
s
l
e
e
p
Instead of
Purgatory in my bed,
But I’m so dreading the upcoming hell
There’s a part of me that
Wants to stay awake,
Live through the hours
Because I’m not skipping ahead
Like a game, I don’t
Skip the night
Since there are things to do, right?
But I’m not even doing anything
Useless pictures fill my head,
Impossible to put into words,
Fantasies of a history
That never was,
A future that never will be
A creature, almost human,
Glowing with a white light,
With a voice that echoes,
Electronic and demonic
Keeping me awake,
My god, why can’t I dream properly,
In half-remembered fragments
Like my living nightmares
All seem to be...
Turning the alarm off at 6:30,
I realise I haven’t slept at all
I groan and roll over
Then get up.
We have work to do.
Dec 2, 2018
Dec 2, 2018 at 5:03 PM UTC
Shadows
They're all I see
Waiting
for the tendrils of ash
Following
me
Dreading
the encasing bleakness they enhance
Ruining
My dreams
Running
Is all I can do
Away
Far
Far
Away
Not because shadows are hollow
Dark
Empty
But because this shadow
Is
Formed
By
Me
Jun 21, 2015
Jun 21, 2015 at 3:16 PM UTC
sail boats
and oceans
and really anything that floats and carries a person
far away
in a big body of water
I don’t think I have to say why
it’s obvious
I’m sure everyone has a thing for sail boats
and oceans
I like busses too
I seem to get really impatient on them, and I like that a lot
because I know I can’t do anything about it
it’s a game of
Will I Go Crazy Or Will I Have A Snooze?
I like being stuck between being stuck and being unstuck
one day I want to sit on a bus for 24 hours and see what happens
(I will be doing a lot of that in the month of October)
I’ll bring books, my iPod and movies to watch on my laptop
but I’ll probably just stare out the window hours on end
tall buildings will turn into blurry trees and blurry trees
will turn into pixilated neon canola crops
and there’ll be cows and ponies and one long road
to Montreal
then Toronto
then who the **** knows where because I am already dreading
going home after the trip
even though I haven’t left for the trip yet
it’s months to come
I have a thing for finding a new home
everywhere I go
but I never find one
I like the process of looking for a really long time
then giving up from discouragement and sad feelings of
abandonment stemmed from my childhood daddy issues
I’m pretty sure everyone has daddy-abandonment issues
I have a thing for assuming every one has the same problems
that I do
but it turns out that there are loads of girls that like to eat
lots
and don’t feel ashamed of the extra scoop of
double fudge ice cream
and there are teenagers that get along with their fathers
and look up to them
they go out for lunches and joke about dates and fix cars
and tell their little girls they’ll always be their little girls
and go on awkward shopping sprees and barbecue
but everyone has a thing for sail boats and water
we all want to escape
our eating disorder and drinking problem
a skinny body or a bulky body
bad grades and perfectionism
the people pleasing pushovers
fathers and mothers and old european traditions
family dinners that go perfectly and are so boring because of it
the fragility of feeling unique
the arrogance of feeling unique
the lack of faith in ourselves
being alone
Aug 30, 2012
Aug 30, 2012 at 2:47 PM UTC
How do you tell someone that you’re tired of existing?
No one has done anything wrong, and by all normal standards this day has been quite nice, but something in me
can’t
handle
that.
Something in me can’t stand this constant standard of
“surviving”
Being exhausted of simply being is draining and no amount of stimulant can correct this.
How do you tell someone that it takes all of you to simply wake up in the morning? To wake, to breathe. How do you tell them that it’s nothing they’ve done, but you just can’t do it anymore.
How do you say **** like this?
How do I think **** like this?
Where could I go?
France?
Scotland?
How far would I have to run for these hounds to stop their pursuit of me?
Will they stop this chase?
The answer is no. No, I don’t think they will.
I think they’ll keep ******* chasing me.
They’ll keep coming. They’ll keep
this race no matter how run-ragged I may be. They’ll keep pace, keep biting at my ankles, keep snarling, snuffling, tearing the ground with their paws. They’ll hunt me until the end— no matter how many rivers or oceans I cross. Or maybe the river Styx will clog their all-knowing-noses….I shouldn’t have given them my scent. But they know it now. They know it and they want more.
I’m living off jolts of too much caffeine right now. What way is that to live? Living, though is an overstatement.
I’m not living— I’m just taking up space.
Taking up space and filling up volumes with these hollow words— as if I don’t know how stale I sound.
So where can I go? What do I do?
What the hell do I do when I can’t even decide if I want to be Alive?
What do I WANT to do?
I WANT a house in the mountains.
I want an herb garden planted in the shape of a sacred spiral. I want a river to bathe in, a fire place to cast into,
a cat to hate and watch suspiciously,
a dog to keep the hounds at bay,
a kitchen to make magick and medicine in, and a bed warmed by someone else.
I want cold nights and mornings warm
only because there is skin against my back.
I
want not to be a prisoner of my own words.
I want to stop dreading the day that I run out of words-- because the day I run out of words will be the day I let the hounds catch up to me.
I want moonlight&moonshine.;
I want sunlight and dizzy sun spots.
I want trees and the sound of a roaring tuck.
I want sweat and the smell of Wood.
I want woods and warm skin at my back.
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 5:26 PM UTC
Nor dread nor hope attend
A dying animal;
A man awaits his end
Dreading and hoping all;
Many times he died,
Many times rose again.
A great man in his pride
Confronting murderous men
Casts derision upon
Supersession of breath;
He knows death to the bone
Man has created death.
- W.B.Yeats
For:Karijinbba
Aug 20, 2018
Aug 20, 2018 at 1:17 AM UTC
I Rose Again and Again
Nor dread nor hope attend
A dying animal;
A man awaits his end
Dreading and hoping all;
Many times he died,
Many times rose again.
A great man in his pride
Confronting murderous men
Casts derision upon
Supersession of breath;
He knows death to the bone
Man has created death.
By: W.B.Yeats, for Karijinbba
~~
The malice of thiefs injured me nearly killing me st only age five;
Men (beasts) in uniform Greedy Feds killed my father five brothers and all grown man and boy in my Purhepetcha Indigenous tribe for the greed of my father's land
Man created death repaing evil for my good from the riches of my forest land they ate and lived as kings while I barely survived, but take heed I did rise.
On my father's shoulders my seahorse kind of dad beloved
he carried and adored me
my future he could read perfectly in our starry night sky and love for me happened exactly as dad had predicted it would be
from my fathers heart I thrived and I rose
and men I did love despite treason by few
~~~~~
By:Karijinbba/AA.
Oct 20, 2018
Oct 20, 2018 at 1:23 AM UTC
on cloud nine from the sound of you voice speaking the three syllables of my identity directly in my ear but i'm not one for gettin' played so i fix my lips to ask you the question that my whole body is dreading,
"what do you want from me?" my heart, so loud, thumping in my ears as the future threatens the demise of this bliss that i have been waiting eight painful eternities for,
to this question, you reply "i want yo love & affection," did i ever tell you that you speak in song lyrics? your voice is the instrumental beat and the melody on this unforgettable tune on the soundtrack of my life
i'ma put my earbuds in
so i can vibe to you again
Apr 19, 2015
Apr 19, 2015 at 3:23 PM UTC