Going, going, gone.
Pots and pans banging inside my head,
has been the only music that seems to put me to sleep.
Babies only cry when you've taught them to fear the sound.
And so that pure, soft sound of sweet serenity,
scares the living shit out of me.
Thanks dad.
Yo can never become too comfortable.
So never tell me you love me dear lover,
because I will be gone in the morning.
And if were too satisfied,
Than I will slip out before dawn.
Pots and pans banging inside my head,
has been the only music that has been able to put me to sleep
for the longest of times now.
Going,
Going,
Backwards footsteps race inside my head.
Dear dad,
I'd forgive you,
but these thoughts remind me that you're the one who cursed me to this chaotic lullaby.
You said no one would love me.
So far you're right.
Asshole.
Gone,
Each guy that has known me for more time than necessary.
Pots and pans banging.
Yelling, screaming,
Don't console me dear lover,
I've been broken for longer than I care to admit,
And stuck here for longer than I would like to be.
Thirteen sucks when you're twenty-four,
And Twenty-four sucks when no one seems to love you.
Pots and pans banging.
Yelling, screaming.
Dear lover,
I promise to leave a lipstick stained kiss to remember me by.
Pens And Poets is a small corner of the internet where all the literary agencies of the world have forced me with their rejection, to stray to and post my poetry. They didn't like it, hopefully you will!
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
Harlem Nights & The Days After
My sheets still smell like you,
And that night I let my senses fall by the wayside.
Even now, I still feel like an idiot.
It took all of five minutes for me to become all wide eyes and smiles.
You must've known then that I would be easy.
All I want to do is cry.
Cry that I let you.
Cry that I enjoyed it.
Cry that you stopped talking to me not two days after.
Does it make me a fool that even now, at this very moment,
all I want is a call from you?
I would still welcome you with open arms.
My father was right; I am pathetic.
My self-esteem needs a hug.
I need someone to love what you and everyone before you seem not to be able to.
I hate you soo much.
I miss you soo much.
Harlem boy,
you broke my broken heart.
And now, I have to buy new sheets for my bed.
And that night I let my senses fall by the wayside.
Even now, I still feel like an idiot.
It took all of five minutes for me to become all wide eyes and smiles.
You must've known then that I would be easy.
All I want to do is cry.
Cry that I let you.
Cry that I enjoyed it.
Cry that you stopped talking to me not two days after.
Does it make me a fool that even now, at this very moment,
all I want is a call from you?
I would still welcome you with open arms.
My father was right; I am pathetic.
My self-esteem needs a hug.
I need someone to love what you and everyone before you seem not to be able to.
I hate you soo much.
I miss you soo much.
Harlem boy,
you broke my broken heart.
And now, I have to buy new sheets for my bed.
After thoughts
All this caffeine cannot be good for me.
All these sad love songs are forming a dark cloud over my head.
I need to revamp my playlists.
Nothing sucks more than remembering how many nights I stayed up past 3a.m just to talk to you.
...Just to hear your voice.
I promise my twenty-four year old self,
that I will delete my love sick sixteen year old ways from my heart.
Growing older does nothing but make us feel taller.
I wish I was sixteen again,
So that my idiocy could be explained away with youth.
Ill tell my daughter someday,
that it should take more than a month to fall in love.
Otherwise,
you'll just end up writing poems about boys who don't know your last name.
All these sad love songs are forming a dark cloud over my head.
I need to revamp my playlists.
Nothing sucks more than remembering how many nights I stayed up past 3a.m just to talk to you.
...Just to hear your voice.
I promise my twenty-four year old self,
that I will delete my love sick sixteen year old ways from my heart.
Growing older does nothing but make us feel taller.
I wish I was sixteen again,
So that my idiocy could be explained away with youth.
Ill tell my daughter someday,
that it should take more than a month to fall in love.
Otherwise,
you'll just end up writing poems about boys who don't know your last name.
Sunday, March 17, 2013
The Last Poem Regarding You
I wish you were a bad B movie that I could’ve just
turned off.
Truth be told, even if you were, I would’ve still
stuck around
For a while longer.
Everyone waits for the ending.
There are no truths when we are in love
Trust me I’ve searched.
Tell me,
What were your plans Oh dear lover?
Be honest.
I promise you I won’t cry,
I promise.
I won’t be mad that you didn’t love me,
I won’t be mad that I allowed myself to feel for
you,
It’s my fault really.
I let my guard down and boy was there a stampede
waiting to run me over.
I promised you I wouldn’t cry,
I promise you that I will try not to.
You should know,
I never completely discarded the pieces of my heart
you broke.
Pitiful I know,
They lead a path somewhere,
Hopefully somewhere that has solace waiting for the
broken hearted.
For people like me.
I promised you I wouldn’t cry.
.. I guess that makes us both liars.
Monday, February 25, 2013
The Power of Insecurity
My first day living in New York
Boxes are barely unpacked and I am standing
Center floor and wide eyed in love
With the cable man.
He’s no celebrity like I’ve seen strutting down the
streets of the Upper East Side
But I am miles away from my boring southern state
And boy is he handsome.
After the pleasantries of my origin story, he looks
at me with his left brow lifted in disbelief
And with a thick urban accent asks, “And you left
there for Brooklyn?”
I smile my awkward, sheltered suburban girl smile,
And mentally regret jumping on the first apartment
listing for New york on craigslist.
He smiles at me and after finishing the job asks for
my number.
I can barely hold in my excitement, and race around
my apartment hugging myself harder than one probably should.
I wonder if this is the how all the pretty girls
feel when they are asked out.
But even I don’t have time to daydream
Because just as my being fills with joy,
The dark
cloud of my insecurities hover over me.
This time, they skip the formalities and get
straight to the point.
“He’s not going to call you.”
“You’re just
a joke.”
And like the last time,
And every time before the last,
I listen.
I agree.
I doubt.
And the negativity I feel begins seeping through my
pores the moment I receive my long awaited call
For every compliment he gives, I have a reason he’s
clearly blind.
And soon our pleasant and promising conversation
turns into the one reason he won’t be calling me again.
He likes girls with confidence,
And sadly I have too many daddy issues unresolved.
He could’ve been the one.
Just like all the rest.
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Mom.
Mom,
I tried to call you last night.
I nearly had a heart attack, as I frantically searched every
book in our house for a number with your name,
And it wasn’t until the sun slept and the moon awakened that
I realized,
Heavens number isn’t in the yellow pages,
And your old cell number is disconnected too,
And no matter how many times I call the operator ,
She wont connect me to “My mommy.”
So I sat there..
Staring at the four walls that have transformed from my
sanctuary to my hell
Listening to the old church songs that no longer lift my
spirit
Because how can songs lift a spirit that is in pieces?
Mom,
Your scent is no longer in your clothes
And those pictures of you and I smiling as if there is no
more happiness in the world to attain
Have faded
And every object that you once touched so freely,
Has been packed into boxes with no name,
The sound from the tape sealing them shut made me cry,
The movers came and no matter how much I pleaded and begged,
They still would not resist in taking all I had left of you
away
So mom,
I grabbed my jacket.
Running fast as I could and ignoring the pain that my deep
breaths caused.
Ignoring the stares of school aged children sitting with
their mothers and fathers,
I ran faster than I ever have.
Because mom ,
They are taking all that’s left of you in small brown boxes
to the ends of the earth
And so to the ends of the earth I will travel to be with
you,
Mom.
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
I Want To Be In Love
I want to be in love...again
For real this time.
I mean no bullshit or holding shit back .
I mean,
I really want to be in love.
I want to get those butterflies in my stomach,
And have those thoughts of passionate love making after a perfect date.
I want to smile at something I remember you saying days ago.
I want to be okay with wearing my favorite socks with the holes in them around you,
because you like them just as much I do.
I want to be in love...
I want to have those one and two month anniversaries celebrating the first time you made me smile at something silly,
And hold hands while waiting in line for a movie.
I want to smile more times than I cry.
And I want to know that you’re ok with me not being stitched together perfectly at the seams.
I want to be in love with someone who wants to
be with me just as much as i want to be with them.
It is love that I will forever be in pursuit of.
For real this time.
I mean no bullshit or holding shit back .
I mean,
I really want to be in love.
I want to get those butterflies in my stomach,
And have those thoughts of passionate love making after a perfect date.
I want to smile at something I remember you saying days ago.
I want to be okay with wearing my favorite socks with the holes in them around you,
because you like them just as much I do.
I want to be in love...
I want to have those one and two month anniversaries celebrating the first time you made me smile at something silly,
And hold hands while waiting in line for a movie.
I want to smile more times than I cry.
And I want to know that you’re ok with me not being stitched together perfectly at the seams.
I want to be in love with someone who wants to
be with me just as much as i want to be with them.
It is love that I will forever be in pursuit of.
Empty Spaces
Our space seems so empty.
Filled with nothing except two cups of chilled coffee.
Mine with all the fixings...complicated even,
And yours black...straight forward and unchanged.
No aromas float intertwining into one,
Those days have been long since forgotten.
And the heat that made us jump from a mere touch?
...well its no longer there.
there's nothing fascinating about us
anymore.
I no longer love you .
Not because I no longer love you,
But because you no longer love me.
And well...you won’t know the extent of my pain if I don't equal the playing field.
Our space seems so empty,
And yet its filled with everything I’ve ever felt for you.
All those “I love you’s” and “You complete me’s”,
Crowd the air like a gang of clouds right before a storm.
Mesmerizing even.
And yet you don’t get it
you never did I suppose.
you never loved me.
And you never will know how much I wish you did.
Filled with nothing except two cups of chilled coffee.
Mine with all the fixings...complicated even,
And yours black...straight forward and unchanged.
No aromas float intertwining into one,
Those days have been long since forgotten.
And the heat that made us jump from a mere touch?
...well its no longer there.
there's nothing fascinating about us
anymore.
I no longer love you .
Not because I no longer love you,
But because you no longer love me.
And well...you won’t know the extent of my pain if I don't equal the playing field.
Our space seems so empty,
And yet its filled with everything I’ve ever felt for you.
All those “I love you’s” and “You complete me’s”,
Crowd the air like a gang of clouds right before a storm.
Mesmerizing even.
And yet you don’t get it
you never did I suppose.
you never loved me.
And you never will know how much I wish you did.
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