Thursday, December 31, 2009

The Hardest Part About Love.

Let me make one thing clear.
No, I am not the 'clingy' type and
No, I do not NEED your attention.
You just so happened to be there
So I accepted.
Your arm wrapped around my waist,
Your hards searching for the gaps
In between my fingers
So you could enlace yours with mine.
Your fingertips perfectly touching the middle
Of my palms
You invited yourself into these thoughts.
I never asked to be filled but you
Spilled your lyrics into me anyways leaving
No cracks in between my attempts to tell you to rewind
Cuz those words left permanent wounds where
Scars had already claimed residency
And I can't say that I didn't enjoy it because I did.
But you fail to understand what happened
See, I have this box full of men that have
Touched and left.
Leaving their fingertprints frozen into me
Encrypted like code
If love had a diary, you could read it on my skin
Like braile with your eyed closed.
This box, with the image of men dented
From my unaswered questions
Starting from when his
16 year old hands touched my 9 year old body
Causing internal bruising from losing all of my innocence
I understood the definition of sex
Before I knew what love was.
Kissing away my youth at the age of 15 when my
Virginity was stolen by a man who claimed he loved me
Crying blank tears of regrets
And now I'm trying forget everything my heart loves to remember.
See touching is the hardest part about love.
It is not about fucking.
That is easy.
Easy to forget my last name and to swallow my fathers
Words claiming no man can love me more
Easy to close the door on my common sense
But it is the opening part that they always forget
To mention in fairy tales
And no, I didn't expect you to be my prince charming
But damn.
I am tired of adding names to this venemous list
Tired of being kissed and it be meaningless
Playing guilty when really I am innocent
And I don't blame my missing pieces on you
I was broken far before your name became existant
But you have stained the back of my neck with your breath
And now the gaps in between my fingers are
Beginning to miss your sweet entanglment
And that would have never happened if
You had not snaked your way down my arm
To dig into realms that were never yours to explore
I've endured much worse so please don't think
That this is your fault
But that night you poured salt into fresh wounds
Without even asking if I needed a bandage
Cuz you were so concerned with leaving that
You didn't realize I was bleeding
Wondering how many women have been imprinted with your scent
And like the rest, you left.
And I refuse to chase senseless men.
So the next time you want to go around tangling fingers
You might wanna ask where her hands have been.

Love, Tianamonique

Friday, December 25, 2009

Merry Christmas Guys!

Hope everyone has an amazing day! =D

Love, Tianamonique.

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

MIYM #18 / DAY 3.

And because of everything we’ve been through, I continue to grasp on to moments where our names were aligned with the stars. And because I can’t let go, I hold them while I sleep. And because my dreams consist of falacies, I tend to wake up with soaked cheeks. And because I have dimples, they tend to seep into my skin. And because your words have cut away the molecules of my surface, I walk sideways and my smile is crooked. And because I am so broken and dismantled, the many who have touched; have left. And because lonliness is so beautiful, I paint solitude on barren canvases. And because those colors are too bold for me, I look to your emerald eyes for comfort. And because they are so distant, I find myself following the trails I left for when we got lost. And because the winds swept away my previous footprints, you are no where to be found. And because time is running out, I have no patience to play hide and seek. And because I left those games in my youth, I am taking my heart and laughter and planting them in a secret garden. And because roses were never your thing, romance and meloncholy love songs will fill this place. And because it is mine, it will blossom. And because of everything I’ve been through, I will water my thoughts and nurture my dreams, and fall in love with myself.

Love. Tianamonique.

Friday, December 4, 2009


Maybe love is a myth.
A tale that was told on
Lonely nights.
Maybe is started with a simple kiss
On the cheek and they tagged that as
And as generations grew, so did the idea
Of true love existing
Kissing strangers until the
Right one landed on hopeful lips
Someone must have have twisted around
The words, because somewhere in the
Midsts of kisses on cheeks, love was stolen
Somewhere, love was shattered and broken
The letters spilling over torn hearts.
Loved died.
And when they tried to put the pieces back together
They glued it wrong,
Leaving dark holes in their theories,
Gaps in between their thoughts
Love was a myth broken by lies and fantasies
Shoving pretty quotes down aching throats
In hopes of finding a prince charming.
Someone to leak pretty words into desperate palms
Someone to hold the burdens of your heaviest secrets
Someone to love the worst part of you
Someone to love the ugliest part of you
Someone to accept your insecurties and kiss them until they are too far to reach.
Someone to teach poetry and art like it was all we had left.
Somone to make parallel lines intersect.
Someone to defy gravity.
Someone to capture moments in still forms and make them sing.
Until proven that this person exists..

Love is just a myth.

Love. Tianamonique.