You
I thought it was me, but then I could see, it was you, and yes it’s true, your the reason why our love never grew, selfish moments, we had a few, too many tears I have cried, so I finally had to decide, I was through.
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I don’t have yahoo messenger
I will not photoshop the truth. I won’t immerse it in sugary sweetness or cover it in brilliantly mixed shades of pink and purple oil pastel paints so that it may look more appealing to the eyes. I will not compromise my beliefs just to have your acceptance. I will not attempt to hide the fact that the roots of my hair are course, curly and nappy, in order to look like the white females on the cover of seventeen magazine. You won’t find me bathing in lies. I tell it like it is or not at all.
– My brain
Untitled
It’s late, and I don’t know what to do with this silence.
It annoys me.
More than the flies that hover around my plate
When i’m sitting at a picnic table in the summer time.
The quiet stillness of the night
Forces me to face my thoughts.
They are all I can hear right now.
Like little voices reminding me of the things
I pile up in my closet of memories.
Apparently the door has gotten to weak to hold them all in.
So they spill out now, rapidly and wildly
Leaving me no time to clean up the mess.
Such a chaos my brain seems to be in!
I remember past lovers.
Each one a reflection of who I was at the time.
I had the bad boy type, that made me feel alive and kept my life thrilling.
I had the Jamaican seductress, who gave me a taste of island passion.
I had the afrocentric poet, who fucked me amazingly and had me sprung for a whole summer.
I had the rocker chick, who rebelled against the norms of society, her purple hair screaming “Fuck the world” as we walked hand in hand around Gallery Place.
And of course the intellectual Gemini, who always did the sensible thing, but through logic out the window when we fucked like we would be each others last piece of ass.
So many memories, etched in the small crevices of my mind, some…that are now just crumbs from what use to be a delicious piece of bread.
Lack of communication
I ain’t the type,
To get caught up in the hype,
Of absence makin the heart grow fonder.
But lately I’m startin to wonder,
And my minds beginning to ponder,
The reason…behind why I miss you.
Now don’t be mistaken,
This ain’t no lyrical session,
Where i’m poetically professin’ ,
Any hidden love that dwells within me,
I’m simply…
Expressin’,
That our recent lack of communication,
Has got me immersed in frustration,
And truthfully,
a little angry.
Perhaps I’ve become accustomed
To how we text from time to time,
Or when you’d call,
And your voice,
Would send sensations down my spine,
Maybe in this case
lust…
and friendship intertwine,
But regardless,
I’ve never known a bond of this kind.
And yea i know i still see you on a face to face tip
But I’m very greedy, i need more than just a sip,
Of the fine imported wine
I could easily compare you to,
The intoxication from your presence,
Makes me stick to you like glue.
I’m like a junkie and maybe you could be my fix,
But your just a silly rabbit,
Playing tricks for kicks.
To bring the main point home,
Without my phone im super blown,
But I’ll suppress missing you…
Gotta turn this heart back to stone.
About me
Kia Ora Koutou. The name is Danielle Pace. Poet, Artist, and free spirited bisexual, I allow you to come into my world. This is my space to express and be as wild and free spirited as i want to be, (my home away from Facebook lol) and guess what? You ALL get to read everything! Thanks for visiting and come back any time.One love.
