We Shared.

She dreams in
Shades of sepia
And I dream in
Technicolour madness.

Yet somewhere
In the differences
Heaped between us
Wh found something
To share.

In sharing we
Found love.
Not a light,
Flighty love but
The kind of love
That was heavy
And meaningful.

A love that had
Many layers of
Conditions but at
Its core it was
Unconditional.

A love that
Fought,
Hurt,
Failed and
Triumphed
Then failed again,
But somehow
It was still
Winning.

And as her
Shades of sepia
Began to be invaded
By rude colours of
Red and neon green,
And mine grew softer
In this part and that,
The differences became less
And the similarities became more.

There was always
One thing we shared,
Love.

Who Am I

He kissed me
And I should
Have slapped him.

I should have
Become violent
Towards him.

Him, this little man
With soft features
And a beautiful
Smile.

Him, the only man
Who looked beyond
My masculine posturing
And saw me as I am.

As I am?
What am I?

Every day, I would
Look in the mirror
And ask myself that
Question.

The woman of the
Evening, sleeping
Fitfully in my bed
And still I felt...
Dissatisfied.

That is until
He kissed me
And the Pandora's box
Sprung open and
Although I tried
To slam it shut,
Its lid would spring
Open.

Instead of all
Manners of evil
And strife, out
Came my truth.

Instead of becoming
Violent, I craved
His touch, I wanted
More. My thirst,
A thirst I never
Knew I had,
Grew stronger.

He smiled.
A knowing smile.
Then extended his hand.

I took it
Without hesitation
And was led
To his apartment.

Instead of closing
The now gaping box,
I was going to explore it
And in doing so,
I will at last
Answer the question,
Who am I?

Lost In The Smoke

source

 
A half smoked spliff
Hanging from dark lips,
Thick dreads falling
Over half cast eyes
That seem to see everything
And nothing.


I found him like this,
Leaning on the base of
The tallest coconut tree,
His toes buried in the sand.

Even though he acknowledged
My presence, his attention
Was focused at the sea.

"Wha yuh want, breth'ren?"
Smoke and words expelled
From his lips.

Mama had told me
To look for the Rasta man
When I told her that
I discovered my wife,
My Angela, was cheating.

"Yuh love she?"
More words,
More smoke.

She was my childhood sweetheart,
She was my wife,
She was the mother of my children.

"Nuh bother with that,"
He waved his hands as
Though he was brushing away smoke,
"You love the woman or what?"

I looked out at the sea,
I used to have an answer,
It used to be simple,
All I had to say was "yes",
But I couldn't.

"Dere's yuh answer,
Dere's the answer to de question
Yuh shoulda been asking me."

I looked down at him
To see him looking up at me,
His eyes sharp and alert
Through the haze of smoke.

I loved her
But not in the way
He was alluding to.

We grew together like
Two coconut trees beside
Each other, but never did
Our branches intertwine.

"A woman needs to be loved,
Breth'ren. Love her in
De touch of yuh hand,
De words yuh speak,
De look in yuh eye.
If you can't love her
Den let she go,
Let she find somone
Who will love she right."

I couldn't let her go,
She was my wife,
The mother of my children.

"My, my, my,
What 'bout she?
Ain't she somebody, too?
Wasn't she somebody before
Yuh come 'pon de scene?"
His attention returned to the sea.

"De problem is yuh pride.
It ain't the fact that
She find somebody to love,
It's the fact that
She walk 'way from yuh.
Dat is what mek yuh
Come see me," he flicked
The remains of the spliff away.

He pulled another spliff
From his shirt pocket
And lit it.
For a moment we were
Lost in the smoke.

"Yuh nuh love she,
And she nuh love yuh,
Better yuh go yuh ways
And find people yuh will really love,"
The Rasta man said at last.

Love was not important
And what of my children,
The needed their parents together.

"Breth'ren, love is everyt'ing.
As for yuh chil'ren,
What good are parents
Who nuh love one another?
How dem chil'ren suppose to know
How to love somebody if
Dey never see them parents
Loving one another?"

Once again,
We were lost in the smoke.
The angle of the sun changed
Casting the shadows of the tree
Upon us.

"Look here, breth'ren,
It's obvious yuh nuh ready for
What I been telling yuh,
The wound fresh and
The sting nuh wear off.
It's best yuh be on yuh own,
T'ink 'pon t'ings,
T'ink 'pon what me say.
When the time come,
Yuh will know what to do."

I hoped so,
I looked out to the sea,
The cool breeze licking
The sweat from my brow,
Blowing the smoke away.

When I looked back,
He was gone, even
The spent spliff was gone.

As I sat down
Where the Rasta man sat,
I wondered where he went,
How he went.

Did he walk away?
Did he climb up the tree?
Or did he blow away
Like the smoke in the breeze?

Whatever the manner of his exit,
He had given me a space
To think about the future,
Our future, my future.

A future without the wife
I didn't love.


Submitted to imaginary garden with real toads and dVerse Poets

Queens Speech [video]

It's Media Wednesday and today I'm posting a video from one of the Expressions: Poetry At The Pub open mics. This video is from last year and I'm still getting used to seeing myself in video. More reason to get better when it comes to performing. Enjoy.

Talk

I stumbled into him,
Losing my balance,
My world, upside down
For what was but
A moment but felt
Like an eternity.

In that moment,
That forever moment,
He caught her, sparing
Me bruises and cuts,
Cuts and bruises,
Setting me upright again.

I was embarassed,
I was shy,
I had two left feet
And two hands of thumbs,
Yet, through all of that,
He smiled.

Not a sympathetic smile,
One that was drenched
With pity for the
Poor, little creature
That stood before him.

It was a smile
That was sweet like
A just ripe plum
That had just lost
Its tartness.

It was a curious smile
That wanted to know more
About the creature
That stood before him.

Because of that smile,
I smiled.
Because of my smile,
He spoke.
Because he spoke,
We talked.

We talked that day
And the day after.
Ten years later,
We were still talking.
Twenty, thirty,
Forty years later,
We were still talking.

Then one day came when
We could no longer talk.
A silence descended around me
As I took my last breath.
And as the world melted away,
I heard him whisper.

"I love you, and
We will talk again."


Submitted to imaginary garden with real toads and dVerse Poets

Heat

Sunshine warming
Deeply hued skin,
A cool breeze
Licking the salty liquid
Off their brows.

He stood up tall
And released a sigh,
A "Thank you" to
A God, a deity,
A mother of nature
Who had sent this welcome
Respite from the heat.

He looked down
At her and
Spoke no words
Just conveyed his love.

He had found
Her beautiful and
She had found
Him brave and
In the time
They spent together
They found more.

They found more
Than the single
 Adjective they had
Assigned to one another.

Yes, she was beautiful,
But she was also smart,
Resilient, quick witted,
Diplomatic and nurturing.

Yes, he was brave,
But he was also savvy,
Witty, good-natured,
Persuasive and bold.

 In the quiet moments
Between the sun
And the moon,
A quiet love blossomed
Like an unassuming flower.

A flower that grew
From a green bud
To an extraordinary
Sight to behold,
Emitting a scent that
Coloured their world.

 She looked up at him,
At first a frown
Was upon her face,
But when their eyes met,
It melted like
Ice on a hot summer day.

She did away with her tools,
As he did away with his,
And in each others' arms
They sought a cool place
To create a heat
Of their own.

A heat only
A man and a woman
Could make.

I Love You - Spoken Word

As promised today is media Wednesday and today I will be showcasing a spoken word piece I did earlier this year. Hope you like To listen to more spoken word by moi, visit my SoundCloud page.

It's Complicated

source

"It's complicated."

She sat in the middle

Of my living room,

In the middle of my

Life's debris, reading

A book.

"What's complicated?"

I asked, I always had

A problem called

Curiosity.

Looking up for a second,

Before returning to her book,

"Everything.

Everything is complicated,"

She said, matter-of-factly.

I felt the beginnings of

A deep conversation

And I wondered if

I was prepared to go

To a place she knew

Very well.

I was not prone to

Heavy thoughts, I 

Left philosophy to the

Likes of Socrates, Plato

And her, 

The woman 

Who would wear 

A top that skimmed

Her hips with nothing

But panties while 

Reading Nietzsche.

"Everything is complicated

Because we can't handle

Simple."

She decided to take 

The reins and lead me

Down the path.

"We can't imagine that

Life is simple so we 

Tell ourselves that it's

Complicated."

She caught my interest

So I sat down to listen.

"If given the choice

Between simple and 

Complex, we always

Choose complex.

We love a problem to

Solve."

"What is a problem

You are trying to solve,"

I asked.

She looked up

And leveled her

Gaze with mine,

"I'm trying to figure

Out how to stop

Loving you."

She was right,

She was always right.

It is complicated.

He Paints

 source

He paints.

My daughter says this
Every time I ask what
Her new boyfriend does.

Paints?
Paints what?
Paints houses?
Paints cars?

She would roll her eyes,
Bored of the conversation.

He paints pictures,
Everyday he wakes up
And goes to his studio
And paints.

What kind of Caribbean man
Paints for a living?
How can he provide for you
If you get married?
What about children?
They are not cheap
Nowadays.

The conversation would go
Downhill from here with
Both of us frustrated
And we would move on
To a topic less volatile.

He paints.

My daughter once took me
To his studio,
A messy place with
Unfinished paintings
Everywhere.

Those that were finished
Were pretty enough,
But pretty does not
Put food on the table.

In the corner of the studio
Stood something draped with
A heavy fabric. A piece
He's working on, said
My daughter,
He has yet to show her.

He paints.

The days after the visit
To his studio were spent
With me wanting to see
The shrouded painting.

Curiosity got the better
Of me and I snuck
Into the studio.

Carefully, I removed
The cloth and before me
Was my daughter,
Then I saw my grandmother,
Or was it my mother?
Or was it me?

The paint on canvas
Froze in time four women
Of one lineage, one blood,
All found in one woman.

This woman painted on canvas
Had my grandmother's resilience,
My mother's nurturing spirit,
My stubborness, but
The woman was my daughter.

My heart ached as
I saw the innocence
And hope in her eyes,
Things that I once possessed
Before life did away with them
A long time ago.

Somehow,
My daughter's boyfriend
Captured more than her likeness,
He captured her soul
And the souls of the women
Before her.

I replaced the heavy cloth
Over the painting, reluctantly,
And snuck out of the studio.

I never asked my daughter
What her new boyfriend
Did for a living,
Having accepted the truth
And seeing it from
A new perspective.

He paints.
No he does more than
Paint, he freezes people
In time, taking their
Likeness and spirit and
Trapping them on canvas.

He does not paint,
He performs miracles.

But..

"Do you love him?"
Soft lips murmuring
Against my aroused lips,
Pleading eyes looking up
From between my thighs.

"Sshh.
Don't speak of him,"
I answered, evading
The question the best
Way I could.

She rose up, sitting
Back on her haunches,
Her eyes leveled on mine,
My juices smearing her lips.
"Answer me, Jasmine."

I got on all fours
And kissed her,
Palming her breasts
Before tweaking her nipple.
She groaned.

I pulled away,
Getting out of bed,
Putting on my clothes.
"Where are you going?"
Panic in her voice or
Was it sexual frustration?

"Home, home to him,"
I answered, heading
For the front room.
"I came here to forget
About him, but you seem
Bent on talking about him."

"Don't go, Jasmine,"
She came up behind me,
Snaking her arm around
My waist, pulling me into her,
"I promise I won't mention him."

"You promise?" I asked
Turning to look her
In the eyes.

"I promise with
All my heart, pretty lady,"
She said with a mix
Of sobriety and lust.

She kissed me softly
Then took my hand and
Led me back to
Her bedroom.

She made love to me
The way he never could.
Her touch was soft,
Her embrace was tender,
And when she was finished
I felt loved and cherished.

I waited until
She was fast asleep
Before slipping away,
Returning to him.

Do I love him?
No, but he is the man
I married, the father
Of my children,
The breadwinner.

I love her but
I must live with him.


Submitted to dVerse Open Link

Smiles and Glances

At first,
We did not speak
With words. Our
Conversations were
Nothing more than
Glances and smiles
That grew into
Gentle touches and
Tender kisses with
Promises of more,
Much more.

But he was snatched
Away from me.
Death claimed him.

Words came and
For those with power,
Symbols on parchment.
I saw him one day,
His features had changed,
His station was higher,
But alas, mine was lower.
He, a prince of Egypt
And I, a slave.
Many moons had passed
Before I stood before him.

But I was snatched
Away from him.
Slave traders claimed me.

The land was new
To my people,
The sun harsh to
Our pale skins.
To him the land was old,
The sun, an old friend.
He knew it was me
And he claimed me
As such. In hidden places
We touched hidden places.

But he was snatched
Away from me.
My people took his life.

My skin was as dark
As the depths of night,
His skin, pale yet tanned,
Accustomed to the sun.
My life was hard,
Leaving me brittle and
Unseeing and so he
Sought and found me,
Purchasing me for twice
My price, then escaping
This land of hate to
Surround me with love.

But I was snatched
Away from him.
So brittle was I that
I shattered during child birth.

He was a Goldstein and
I was blond with blue eyes.
Under a net of lies
And deception, we travelled
Through Europe, Hitler's forces
Nipping at our heels. Just
When freedom and safety
Were within our grasps,
The rabid dogs caught him,
Dragging him away.

He was snatched
Away from me.
Aushwitz was his last
Known location.

I was sitting in a cafe
When I saw him.
It was obvious that
He was a tourist
To my city of lights.
I did not run to him,
I just watched him,
History had left an
Imprint on me and
I was afraid that
He or I would be
Snatched away
from the other.

He looked through
The window, he
Looked at me,
We spoke without
Words, just
Smiles and glances.
He knew it was me
And he came into the cafe,
Sat across from me and
Said hello.

Maybe, just maybe,
This time we were
Meant to stay together
For a long time.

Maybe, just maybe,
Fate will be kind.

Depend On Me

 source

"The sky looks funny,"
I looked across at her,
Her small frame lying
On the blanket,
Her eyes looking
Up at the open sky.

"Why do you say that?"
My gaze returning
To the same sky.
It didn't look any
Different to me.

"It looks.......
It just looks different."
This was the norm for her,
She would make a statement
But found it hard to
Put her feelings, her opinions
Into words.

"Why are you here?"
She turned onto her side
Staring at me inquisitively.
"I know why I'm here,
But why are you here?"

Why was I here?
I let the question sink,
Sink into me, hoping
For an answer to pop up
Like apples in a barrel
Of water. Instead only
The truth popped up.

"Because you asked,
Because I care for you,"
My gaze remained on
The sky but I could still
See her in my periphery.

She just nodded
Her understanding then
Laid back on her back.
"Why did you ask me
To come with you?"
I asked, trying my best
To sound normal.

It was two hours ago
That she found me
Walking home.
She was in her beat up
Corolla and she asked
If I wanted to go
On a trip to the desert.

I said yes.

"You're the only one
That understands me,
The only one that doesn't
Keep asking me if I'm okay,
the only one that really
Listens to the words that
Fall out of my brain
And unto my tongue,"
Sometimes her answers were
Poetry to my ears.

I nodded my understanding,
Trying not to think of
The scars on her wrists.

"I asked you to come
Because I knew you
Would say yes and
Because I care for you, too."
I looked across at her
And she was looking at me.

For the first time,
In a long time,
I knew she was going
To be okay because
She knew she could
Depend on me.


Submitted to imaginary garden with real toads and dVerse Poets

Willing To Love

The train drew closer
And I waited patiently
For her. It had been
Four months, twelve days,
Seven hours and 15 minutes
Since I last saw her.

Her letter said she
Was coming for good,
That she was looking
Forward to moving to
The little Spanish city
That was my home.

The train emptied out
And between families
And lovers reuniting,
I waited patiently
For her. I waited
Till the little station
Was almost empty.

Then I felt a tap
On my shoulder, I
Turned around to find
The train's conductor,
A letter in his hand,
A mix of sadness and
Pity in his eyes.

He didn't speak,
I didn't speak,
The letter left his hand
Coming into mine.

He walked away,
His mission complete,
A weight, a burden
Now gone, soon to
Be forgotten.

Alas, this weight, this burden
Was now mine,
I walked across to a bench.
As I sat, I opened the letter.

Words swam in and out of
My vision, in and out of
My understanding like
Fish escaping the water
Attempting to fly.

I had read the letter
Once, then twice,
It was only on the third
Reading that I truly
Understood.

In a daze, I walked
Through the city, the
Vibrant colours I had
Come to know had bled away.

I walked to a my neighbourhood,
But passed my abode,
Making my way to the bar
Down the street from it.

I parked myself on
A stool and asked
The bartender, a friend
Of mine, for something hard,
Something to dull the edges.

He didn't ask,
I didn't tell.

Between mid-afternoon
And midnight, I drank
To forget, I drank
To dull the pain, I drank
Till the bartender, the friend
Refused to serve another
Glass of slow death.

Instead at two past
The witching hour,
He delivered me to my home,
Placing me on the bed,
Water on the bedside table
And a bucket on the floor.

She never came, instead
Pain was my companion
During the months that followed.

Eventually it eased from
Sharp to dull like
A butcher's old knife.
Then it became an ache
That returned only when
I remembered.

I stared to forget
Thanks to Maria, and
Maria became Isabella,
Isabella became Bianca,
Bianca became Carmen.

As Carmen slept in
My bed, I returned to
The letter for the first time
In a long time.

In the letter,
She said she loved me
But she was scared,
She didn't have the
Wherewithal to jump, to
Take a chance on
The fickle emotion
Called love.

For the first time ever,
I didn't feel sad,
I felt angry, and in
That anger, I tore the
Letter up, offering the
Pieces to the flames
On my stove top.

I returned to my bedroom,
Stopping at the doorway,
Watching the woman sleeping
In my bed, the woman
Willing to take a chance
On love.

Her eyes opened and on
Seeing me, a lazy smile
Spread across her face,
"Vienes aqui, mi amor,"
Reaching her hand out to me.

I went to her,
Wrapping myself around her.

The pain was gone,
The anger was gone,
Love for some one who
Loved me replaced it all.


Submitted to imaginary garden with real toads and dVerse Poets

To Ginny

She lay on the sofa,
A rag doll version
Of her former self.

I wanted to say
Something,
I wanted to do
Something,

But the words
Would sound too
Blunt, their edges
Piercing the delicate
Skin of my daughter.

I wished Sheila was here,
I wish she would
Embrace our progeny
And coo soft words
To her, while I stood
Close by, nodding
And agreeing with
Everything Sheila said.

Sheila was gone,
Lost to us in a sandstorm
Of dust and lust, and
The last I heard she
Was four towns away
Living the life she
Couldn't live with us.

It became too much
For me and I walked
Over to the sofa,
Sinking into the plushness
Beside my Ginny.

She looked at me,
Eyes puffy, nose red,
I embraced her, resting
Her head on my shoulder,
I let her cry, hopefully
The last of her tears.

I let her pain, leak into
Me, I may not have the
Right words, but I have
The right intention.

I know her pain, and
Even though I could
Not remove it,
I could let her know
That someone still
Loved her, still saw
Her as beautiful,
Precious and worthy.

We stayed that way,
Father and daughter,
For most of the night
And when the sobs
Turned to snores,
I carried her to bed.

As I left her room,
I heard her mumble
Through the net of slumber,
"Thank you, daddy."
I nodded and left the room
Quickly, not wanting her
To see the tears in my eyes.

Over a bottle of Jack,
I mourned the loss of
Ginny's innocence and
Her entrance to the world
Of heartbreak, and I prayed
That she would be stronger
Than I ever was.

I raised my glass,
"To Ginny."

Willard

Willard.
Willard was his name.
Not William.
Not Willy,
Nor Will or Bill,
But Willard.

Willard stood 6ft tall,
Maybe more but
I never had a
Measuring tape around
When he came by
The farmhouse that
Pa built.

In those times,
They called it courting,
I called it sniffing around,
But Ma and Pa liked it
As every time Willard came by
He would bring news
For Ma's ear or
An extra hand for Pa.

As for me, he would
Bring wild flowers.
A whole mess of them,
Ma would have me smile
And put them in a pretty
Vase bought specially for them.

I didn't like Willard,
But I didn't hate him
Either. He was like
A stranger you saw
Often enough that
You end up liking them.

First, I like the way
He laughed nervously when
I told a blue joke.
Then the way his sandy hair
Would catch the last rays
Of summer sun.

I liked the freckles
That came out in May
And said goodbye
When the harvest moon
Said hello.

I liked his smile,
Not the nervous one,
Or the polite one,
I liked the one that
Was full of mischievous
That mirrored mine at times.

Or the one that
Could only be described
As proud when I told
Mary Sue, that little know it all,
Where to put her
Pretty, little nose.

When a summer turned
Into a year and
A year into two,
When puberty brought
New surprises and emotions,
Willard was there.

When Pa got sick
And Ma became Ma,
Pa and Pa's nurse,
Leaving me to fend for myself,
Willard was there.

Then Willard was gone
For a spell or two
And I felt a sadness
I never knew could exist
Leaving me listless and cagey.

Then he came back and
I swear, though Ma said
Not to, it was like
The sun came out from
Behind the clouds.

When he came back,
He took me down by
The river where the big
Oak tree stands
And out of his pocket
Came a ring.

I said yes before
He could ask the question.
Yes, I love him,
Yes, I will marry him,
Yes, I will live with him
In sunshine and rain.

Willard is his name.
Not William,
Not Willy,
Not Will or Bill
But Willard,
The man I love.


Submitted to Poets United's Poetry Pantry

Wonder Land

source

 

The land was
A mix of wintery
Wonder land and
Desolate patch of
Hinterland.

I watched it pass
By as I rode on
A bus to somewhere
Else.

I touched the window,
Marveling at the
Coolness but happy
With not having to
Face it yet.

"Where you headed?"
The old lady sitting
Across the aisle asked,
Either making conversation
Or giving into her curiosity.

"Nowhere in particular,
Anywhere that is not
Where I was," I answered.

"Then how do you know
When you reach where
You going?" she asked.

"I figure I will just know,
Right here," I patted the
Place over my heart.
"I will just know."

She nodded her head
Then returned her attention
To the novel she was reading.
Her curiosity sated.

I didn't tell her the whole
Truth. I didn't tell the
Old woman that I was
Headed for a warm place
Where I can rest my head
And dream of you no more.

A place where we dreamt
Of going, but never did.
In the end, I was the only
One going because you
Chose a different type
Of life, a different type of
Woman.

I was headed to a place
Where I could let the
Memories of you fade
Like old pictures in
An album I stopped
Flipping through.

Then again,
I have a feeling she,
The old lady, already
Knew the truth. She
Was too polite to ask
For it.

I looked out of
The window, watching
The desolate, wintery
Wonderland pass by.



Submitted to imaginary garden with real toads and dVerse Poets

Also I want to thank everyone for subscribing to this blog. I am happy to say that it now has 100 subscribers. Woohoo. Thank you all for the support and expect some fun things to come.

Untitled

source




"Ricky called,"
Jasmine was leaning
In the doorway
To my bedroom,
Thumbing through a magazine.

"That's nice," I replied
From under the bed.
I was searching for
The red bag that matched
The red heels I was wearing.

"He asked for you,"
There was something different
In Jasmine's voice, but
I continued on my search,
Trying my best to act normal.

"Did he say why?" I asked,
Pulling the bag out and
Standing up. Jasmine was
Not at the door but
Right behind me.

"Are you seeing Ricky?"
Her eyes slits when I turned
To face her. They were
Searching for the truth as
Though expecting me to lie.

"No, why would I
Be seeing your boyfriend?"
I scoffed, walking around her.
I started to put things
In the red bag, hoping this
Was the end of the conversation.

"He broke up with me,"
Jasmine fell onto my bed
Dramatically. "He found
Someone else," she croaked
Before sobbing loudly.

"Forget about him, you
Deserve better, you'll see,"
I said, patting her leg.

"Oh no, is that the time!
Sorry Jazz, I have to go."

I slung my bag onto
My shoulder, grabbed my
Phone and my keys and
Ran out of the apartment.
The sound of Jasmine's sobs
Following me down the hall.

I met up with my date
At the corner of our block.
We made our way to the
Restaurant.

"So you broke up with Jazz?"
I looked up at Ricky.

"And you didn't tell her
I broke up with her for you."
His response was a statement
Not a question. "She doesn't
Want me. She never did.

"How do you know
I want you?" I asked,
Following the maitre d' to our table.
"How do you know I'm only
Using you to hurt her?"

"I just know," he said,
A smug smile plastered on
His face. "Plus you're not like that.
She is, but you're not."

The evening passed with
Good food, good wine
And good conversation,
The roommate and the ex-boyfriend
Enjoying each others' company.

Mario invited me up for a night cap
But I declined as I had an early morning.
As I walked home,
I slipped off my red heels.

I found Jasmine fast asleep
On the couch in the living room,
"I Love Lucy" on the TV.
I turned it off and
Made my way to my room.

"Lucy......?"

"Yeah, Jazz,"
I turned back to look
At her.

"I love you, Lucy,"
Jazz said, drowsily.

"I know, I love you, too,"
I turned and went to my room.
I locked the door and
Fell into bed, knowing that
That was the last time
Jasmine will ever say that.

I love Jasmine and
I love Ricky and
They both love Lucy.

Loved

Woke up
This morning
And found nothing
In the fridge
But water and
A full cup of death.

Jacob was here,
I smelled him
Before I saw him,
And when I saw him
I wish I didn't.

He laid in the middle
Of the living room,
Half naked with
A toke hanging
From the corner of
His mouth.

"Was a good night, Evie."
His voice was gravelly.
"You should have
Come out! The moon, babe,
The moon was so
Beautiful and we were
Animals, free!"

I slipped into the couch
Above his head,
Mouthing the exact
Words he was saying,
"Free like the wind,
Free like the clouds,
Free like the birds
And all the damn animals."

This was my life
And I was trying
To get used to it.

There were times
I wished I changed
The locks so he
Wouldn't enter, then
I remembered it was
His name on the lease.

"Evie, why don't you
Come out with us?"
He was looking at me,
Lying on his stomach,
Propped up on his elbows.

I reached out and
Took the toke, taking
A long, slow drag,
Hoping he would forget
The question by the time
I was finished.

He didn't.
He was waiting.

"Honestly, Jacob?"
He nodded his response.
"Honestly, I don't want
To be free. I want
Security, knowing
What will happen next."

"Freedom holds to many
Unknowns, too much
Responsibility. I can't
Handle that."

"You rather be
A caged bird, Evie?"
His voice was sleepy
But I could hear
The disappointment.

"The caged bird
Can still sing and
Is guaranteed food
And water everyday,"
I answered.

He turned around,
Lying on his back,
Reaching up for his toke,
"What are you doing, today?"

"Same thing I do
Every Sunday,
Airing out this apartment
After you funked it up,"
I replied casually,
Happy for the change
Of subject.

"I loved you,
You know that?"
In a matter of seconds
He was fast asleep.

As I draped the blanket
Over him, tucking him in,
My heart ached because
I knew we were near
The end.

All the times before,
He would say,
"I love you,
You know that?" amd
This was the first time
He ever said "loved".

He loved me and
Sometimes, I question
If I loved him at all.


Submitted to imaginary garden with real toads and dVerse Poets

She Was Beautiful

He said
She was beautiful,
Not pretty,
Not gorgeous,
Not cute,
But beautiful.

A word that
With three syllables
Let her know
He thought she was
Pretty,
Gorgeous,
Cute,
Beautiful.

Still,
She didn't believe him.
Saying he was just
Saying so to be kind,
To get in her pants,
To get something
From her.

The only thing
He wanted from her
Was the one thing
She didn't have to give.

A simple for letter word
That lives between
Loathing and like
And the one word
That never spilled
Out of her mouth
To another or
To herself.

Yet, he said
She was beautiful,
Hoping that she would
Let the words absorb
Into her being.

Forcing her to take
A moment and really
See the beauty in her,
Taking a moment
To love herself.

He said
She was beautiful,
Hoping that if
She could love herself,
She could love him.

She was beautiful
If only she could
See that.

And Yet - She Wanted A Love Poem

The following poem is from the section, "The Cheating Heart" of She Wanted A Love Poem, a collection of poems.

And Yet

"This isn't right."

I looked over at him,
Giovanni standing
At the window,
Watching the first rays
Of the morning sun.

"Are you saying
It's wrong?"
My voice rusty
With sleep.

He looked over
His shoulder,
His eyes searching
My nude form
For the right answer,
An answer it would
Never give.

He sighed and
Looked away,
I knew his heart ached.

I got out
Of the bed
And came up
Behind him,
Hugging him.

He exhaled and
I inhaled his scent.

"This is wrong,"
He whispered.

I began to
Pull away but
He held my arms
In place.

"If this is wrong
Then I better go,"
I mumbled into his skin,
Before kissing it.

"I don't want
You to go,"
He turned and
Wrapped his arms
Around me, resting
His chin on
The top of my head.

There we stood
At the window
Embracing each other,
Embracing the wrong
That may never be right.

And yet,
It felt right.


Submitted to imaginary garden with real toads and dVerse Poets

To get your copy
of this collection
of poems,
click here.