fated flowers.

he doesnt listen to me.
every time i open my mouth to speak
he talks over me and beyond me
he speaks thru me
rather than to me
in attempts to prove his masculinity
and weakened with femininity my tears come

one by one

one by one
then two by two
then ten by ten
i let my tears win and have their way
because they say:
"april's showers bring may's flowers"
and i've cried enough tears this season to put the rain to shame
i've watered the seed of this relationship
until it bloomed and then drowned under the strain of my pain

and luckily now...
its may

but he's fuming like a canine in the midst of summer's heat
and his words lunge at me
like he's sinking his teeth into the depths of my heart
blinded by my emotional beating
only my ears are wide open
because i still cant stand to watch his love depart

so no
i dont see him leave
but i listen as he goes
i hear his feet brush against the carpet
and the loudness of the silence that reminds me that im alone
because the king of my castle
sometimes chooses to depart from his throne

then my
fears bring more tears for the love i have to mourn
and im wondering where all the flowers are
cause all i see are petal-less roses that prick me with their thorns

until my head begins to spin

so now my head is spinning
because as sunny as it is outside
the brightness of our future is once again dimming
cause im in a battle for his love
and im never winning

maybe its because im always forgiving
and somehow forgetting
which has me forever regretting the reopening of my arms everytime he leaves
wondering if he'll ever stay stagnant
or just keep changing like the look of autumn amongst the trees
morphing from a healthy specimen
to a dry & brittle irrelevance
until he falls to the ground into a cold,harsh reality that bites him harder than winter's frost

cause without him
i used to think i'd be lost
but now its his turn to pay the cost for his loss
because desperation is no longer a stench i want to wear
and paying the price
for his past relationships is no longer a burden i want to bear

so now im hotter than houston in july
and im sweating out the agony from all the tears he made me cry
im solidifying the fragments of my heart
that he melted with his angry rays
and instead of trying to water this drought of love with my tears
i'll just help him dig the grave

instead of begging him to stay
i'll pack his bags as he begins to leave
instead pulling on his shirt for him not to go
i'll just cut off all his sleeves
instead of blocking the door so he cant escape
i'll kindly open it for him
so he'll see the smirk on my face

cause now...
he's the one who's crying
shock and stuck with disbelief
that i'd actually help him bury the love that is dying
and his tears cant water this lost love seed
cause its rotten to the core
and the only flowers i need
will be buried at lost love's cemetary
as soon as i close the door.

OPEN MIC NIGHT.

liberation.freedom.beauty.

his image.

so yesterday i cried. HARD. like really hard. idk. i just like...have insecure moments sometimes. i saw that my old love had found a new love, and i called and asked my mom if she thought i was ugly.

of course she said no. but still, i went to bed puffy eyed. i didnt really know why i was sad tho. i dont love him, want him, need him, but i guess...i just dont want him to be happy because i feel like he doesnt deserve it.

ah well. i should pray on that.

anyway, i woke up feeling renewed, and here is a poem to describe the experience:

**********************************
this morning
GOD told me i was beautiful
whispered in my ear
to look in the mirror
tapped on my heart
to feel my soul
gazed into my eyes
so that i could see my reflection

his image.

imperfectly perfect.

he kissed me with the sun.
cooled me with wind
and reminded me that he
was my Creator.

the one who held the brush
against the canvas of my body
the pencil that carved
the etchings into my inner beauty.

no.
no pencil.
because pencils have erasers
to make room for error
and HE
...

HE makes no mistakes.

so yes.
he painted me.
inside and out.

in his image.

perfect.

poisonous ego.

egotistically...im somethin like a serpent
and with these words
i strike down weak ones
just like vermin

i slither onto the scene
sometimes hiding amongst the grass
knowing that my talent speaks for itself
so i dont have to boast or brag

they try to catch me
but their slow
they reach out to grab me
but they fumble
they try to replace me
and debate me
but on the mic they surely stumble

cause i spit poison thru my teeth
as i recite my words with venom
til the audience
is stuck
from the paralysis within them

leaving them to their defeat
i often creep away feeling humble yet bold
while they have become paraplegic to my words
that all come from my poisonous ego.