Thursday, October 29, 2009

She Is Coming Undone.

Her dark eyes have dampened.
And her hands are now clenched in fists
Her smile and crooked
And flood with accusations she never deserved
Fingers burned from touching distant memories
Arms broken from reaching for stars
That were never aligned quite right
Her edges are weakened from being
Pushed through sandpaper eyes
She cried in dark corners
Writing her blues on white walls
Creating a perfect sky of dreams that never came true
Her hinges loose from men
Opening and closing her doors and
Misplacing the key; love has left her half empty
But this is not about love.
This is about change
The rearrangement of webbed promises inscribed on false tongues
Blank thoughts serving as bandages
Keep together the broken pieces
Her fringes are being to fray
And with days coming and good
Time is almost impossible to grasp
Counting moments with dead rose pedals on lonely night
Goodbye's have become as frequent as yesterdays
But it was tomorrow that never came
Placing the blame on the footsteps of a god with no name
The frame of her existence being bent backwards
Her character twisted around assumptions
Leaving her soul broken and dying
Trying to come up with complicated answers
To the simple question of, why.
Her laughter has been stained into living room carpets
Along with fallen tears and unsaid regrets.
She never prepared herself for this.
Spinning herself dizzy, contemplating every crucial detail
Ever possible factor in this messed up equation
This complex situation
Failing to provide any type of solution
Her voice has sunk deeper in pools of melancholy songs
Her throat aches from swallowing glass
And as time passes her soul collapses.

She is coming undone.
Running to numb the feeling of being still.
Running from a cold sun.
Because she has realized that
Nothing is as it seems
So she is deferring
Like Langston's dream
But if you see her, tell her to stop.
Because soon she'll run out of breath.
And in these times breathing
Is the only reality she has left.

Love, Tianamonique.

Friday, October 9, 2009

Lay With You

Sometimes I just want to lay with you.
Because days are busy and hurried
And sometimes I forget how to breathe
So I need your arms to remind me
Of how to feel
So sometimes I just want to lay with you.
Let the words write themselves upon our palms
Let them entertwine
We could write sonnets with our silence
Forget our assignments
My back to your chest
Your right leg on my left
Your breath on my neck
I just want to lay with you
Because I spend all day move
Around corners, around orders
And I tend to forget how it feels to be still
I don't want to have to tell you my heart is aching
I don't want to hear the sound of promises breaking
Making love is fine; but sometimes I just want to lay there.
Fully clothed.
No makeup.
Eyes closed.
Hold me until my secrets unfold.
My heart is cold and your arms are the only warmth it knows
No words to be spoke
I know, it's difficult to find time to be alone
But if we could hold on to the hours, the minutes, the seconds,
I reckon we could be free of our insecurities.
I just want to lay with you.
In solitude.
In our purest of forms.
Lay with you until the sheets are torn.
Place wisps of bliss on the small of my neck
Because laying with you is better than sex
I just want to embrace your essence
And inhale your sweet scent without the interruption of nonsense
Lets just lay here and pretend as though we are empty
And fill each other with lovely ecstasy

I just want to lay with you.
Until I forget how to move.

Love, Tianamonique.