a restless reaction [part 1]

[i wrote this over the summer. i've been tweaking it little by little & i intend on writing a part 2 eventually...]


i awoke distressed,
with thoughts restless,
moving as
a fallen leaf
windblown on concrete for miles on
end.

my body remains clothed with invisible hand prints
left by your caress the night prior.
i can't ignore the space left in my bed that you filled,
growing greater as minutes multiply,
setting miles between me and comfort
while remembering how our voices would meet, waltz, and
echo off the empty walls surrounding me,
currently encompassing me in this solitary state of being.

you once reminded me that sleep was the cousin of
death -
so you stayed awake to snap branches off this family tree,
living every moment testing me and
determining what you could get away with.
like a curious child by the tree on christmas eve you
envisioned what you couldn't see
while our hands played a game of bumper cars,
pushing and shoving,
playfully touching
cuz we couldn't get closer without us colliding,
combining into one new being
- a mango on a summer day craved yet solid green, i wasn't quite ready.



i remember one night spent glancing down at your hands,
rubbing one against my own,
two frictionless beings drenched in
sweat like middle school children on their first date,
hands gliding across my body like ice skates on a frozen pond on a winter morning.
i pressed your hand into my own,
gazing at the tip of your fingers towering over mine,
screaming promises of safety down to the ground below me.

the black of night poured into the colors of sunrise,
mixed as watercolor pastels on an unclean brush led back to canvas.
5 AM construction continued outside my window,
beating the concrete paths of the windblown leaves of fall pasts.
the birds rehearsed their daily symphony
and you remained next to me,
arm resting heavily on top of me,
promises embedded in me.


we'll see...

(first [love) is blind]

“do you love yourself?”

shackled by her shattered swagger

she replied: “I love him.”

I watched them to see this beast perceive her vulnerability

and use it wisely.

he

stole her hand

freely.

naivety

led thee

to plummet speedily

and he

gave her all she thought she ever needed.

a youngin,

she craved his attention.

her body tingled as he shared his “affection.”

rose tinted glasses smashed in

shocking her into solemnity

by splattering her body solely with the blood of his love -

kissing her face with his fist

and her skin with his scratch whenever she screwed up.

a trainer, he trained her to obey.

to be his girl, she’d do everything his way

and play

like it was all good in the hood

if he could love her the way she imagined her first love would.

alive in the eyes

he raised his voice when sick of the hand

stating each of his demands as a

Man.

it was a roller-coaster of interaction:

words built up

to watch her fall

pushing her down

so she could give it up to him -

slaying her conscience within.

feeding off his syllables

every lie became a parable presenting his “love.”

she held on to this contact.

sharp syntax intact piercing into her existence

and in an instant she choked on an “I love you”.

a foreign taste,

the first time she had someone to say it to.

his heart hung ruthlessssss but with a kisssss spoke

“I love you too.”

lies laced with licentious intentions.

to her, he was all she’d ever need

but to him she was just another screw in a toolbox of opportunities.

he knew exactly what he was doing.

a rolling stone one night he rolled on.

Mother Nature saw it coming all along.

a master creating disaster

he carved her ego into the plaster he traveled on.

he left her bare, her future unaware

but she’s still too in love with him to care.

[this was written as a performance piece, hence it comes off weird on paper (or in this case, typed on a blog)]

Back to the drawing board...

yesterday I lost my pencil case SOMEWHERE on this campus [the university of illinois, for those who were unaware].

inside of the pencil case were my two flash drives.

saved on these flash drives were almost every poem that I have written since about junior year of high school [I am currently a sophomore in college, again for those who were unaware]

chances of me finding this pencil case: slim.


alas, this is my attempt to start anew. stay tuned.