Personal Poems About Love and HeartBreak 5
Personal Poems About Love & Heart Break 5
It is Tuesday in Nigeria right now. For me, it is the day after my eighteenth birthday. 😈, 😋.
Just realizing I'm a grown ass person and should start thinking seriously about my life (which is code for 'how to fend for myself and add value.')
Was bothered by someone's silence. Expected more, MORE . . . but was disappointed and it got nasty in my feelings.
Got better because I reminded myself that no one is perfect (except me, on my good days 😁.) and also that grown ass people should not feel entitled to anyone's love. After the bitterness and anger had passed, I had this :
TASTES LIKE SKIN.
I didn't want to bite,
don't like to feel guilt suffocate me
after
I relish the blood I drew from you.
Guilt,
damp cloth over my nose,
BREATHE.
cricket-like chirps in the ears,
STOP!!!... pls...
Tosses sleep to the darkest, farthest corner of a room
that my body won't take me to.
Sleep tells me,
" I was not meant for a mind like yours,
for tired bodies,
I was meant only for people who are at peace."
Would have called to apologize,
mouth,
"I'm sorry."
To hear you heave and let me go,
maybe today would be less groggy if I had.
But for the ugly taste,
the taste I got on my lips and teeth
from pulling you into misery,
from sending you out of my holy presence,
from pushing you away and back again,
driving you mad and once more being the balm to the wounds I cause,
from biting you,
marking you.
Mine.
All mine.
It's an ugly taste,
it tastes you,
flaws,
hairs, smoothness,
scars, knuckles,
like life,
like PTSD and anger,
like vulnerability.
Each time,
I lash out,
open jaws to tear,
it leaves that taste.
Tastes like skin.
Like
blood.
Like I've hurt you.
Hurt myself too.
So she brushes her teeth,
before
she traces with tongue and blows softly on teeth marks.
Before she whispers,
"I'm really sorry.
You're only flesh and blood.
I shouldn't have."
Before she bites again.
don't like to feel guilt suffocate me
after
I relish the blood I drew from you.
Guilt,
damp cloth over my nose,
BREATHE.
cricket-like chirps in the ears,
STOP!!!... pls...
Tosses sleep to the darkest, farthest corner of a room
that my body won't take me to.
Sleep tells me,
" I was not meant for a mind like yours,
for tired bodies,
I was meant only for people who are at peace."
Would have called to apologize,
mouth,
"I'm sorry."
To hear you heave and let me go,
maybe today would be less groggy if I had.
But for the ugly taste,
the taste I got on my lips and teeth
from pulling you into misery,
from sending you out of my holy presence,
from pushing you away and back again,
driving you mad and once more being the balm to the wounds I cause,
from biting you,
marking you.
All mine.
It's an ugly taste,
it tastes you,
flaws,
hairs, smoothness,
scars, knuckles,
like life,
like PTSD and anger,
like vulnerability.
Each time,
I lash out,
open jaws to tear,
it leaves that taste.
Tastes like skin.
Like
blood.
Like I've hurt you.
Hurt myself too.
So she brushes her teeth,
before
she traces with tongue and blows softly on teeth marks.
Before she whispers,
"I'm really sorry.
You're only flesh and blood.
I shouldn't have."
Before she bites again.
*This should have been posted the day after my birthday.
Comments
Post a Comment