black tee thoughts

over there, it’s the boy in the black tee-shirt
a cig in one hand and my heart in the other
i’m not gonna say he’s the reason i’m hurt
but let’s just say i won’t show him to my mother
i wish i could say that he was the devil’s spawn
that he was vile trash of the very worst kind
but then what would that say about me at all
am i stupid, blind or just out of my mind
for loving him anyway without a thought
for the pain i would feel if that love was lost

A disguise that never will suffice

Without words, I am naked; I am voiceless
My self is bare; the object of stares
So painstakingly, I weave with words a dress
A disguise that never will suffice
For my face still betrays my thoughts
There’s still nudity in my eyes
There’s no scream left; my voice is hoarse
And so I write to make things right
It’s what I tell myself. I try
To robe myself in poetry
Will comfort come? I’ll hope and see

A second opinion, please

Diagnose me, please
I need a second opinion
I operated on me
I tried to get the pain out
With my hair scissors
And my lighter fire
I tried to dress my wounds
Did I do a good job
Do you still see the scars

Judge me, please
I need a second opinion
Take my statement
I may be a criminal
I broke the heart of another
And broke my own too
Then I locked myself up
And refused to be free
Did I serve enough time
Do you still see my guilt

Condemn me, please
I need a second opinion
I walked the broad path
And neglected the narrow
Then tore my clothes
And purged myself
Will your needle’s eye
Still allow me through
Did I go too far away
Do you still see my sin

On Fire

I’m in love with the mechanisms of your mind

And the way your face glistens when you smile

It makes your eyes light up with a fire

When you talk about your memories and your desires

So let it burn

Let it burn until the world hears your soul scream and yearn

Let it burn bright till they understand that it’s our turn

All those against us will be taken hostages

And for he who has sense, let him sing songs of praises

Poetrenaissance

‪That she may be free,‬

‪and healed of her unrest,‬

‪she carved the most pertinent words,‬

‪spake her soul’s torment into them‬

‪and imbibed them with her spirit.‬

‪Thus, she created a poem‬

‪In her own image‬

‪And in her likeness‬

‪And prayed it would bring her peace.‬

A Still Presence

Have you muted me yet

Or do you still hear my laughter in the foreground of your memories

Is the melody of it still the anthem of your life and the soundtrack to your dreams

Do you still hear my soft breathing in the still of the night

When we were alone and I was asleep and my hand was still on the small of your back

Have you silenced my voice yet

Or do you still hear me telling you incessantly how good you make me feel

Is my heart still your safe-box for all the things you’ll never tell anyone else

Do you still tell me how much you want me like I never left even when I’m not there

Have you erased the magic of my touch yet

Or do you still take my warmth with you when you unlock your other worlds

Are your eyes still a kaleidoscopic maze to me

Because I still can’t seem to find my way out of the universe they create