Is it meant to heal?
Releasing catharsis through veins like gravel poured over the roses in the concrete.
Layers of comfort and complacency piled on top of each other – sedimentary rock
A natural disconnect forms an ecosystem of comfort, care, pressure, love.
Transformation so great, it’s almost metapoetry.
Fear metastasized into strength in the soul of a new being
Bonded together with pressure, incubated in an atmosphere of trust
Love is what we breathe.
It can be heard in the song of the wind
Or seen in the dance of the raindrops
free-falling from the safety of the cloud to the callous rock
Yet landing on the tender web of a spider
Spun delicately, deliberately and at the perfect time.
Dampening our fortress –
Without sacrificing the safety of its home.
Stability produces sanity but drains creativity.
I long for the tainted turmoil of relationships past,
We were fire and fire and I burnt out.
The all-consuming chemical, my love for you
combusted when I tasted the flavour of your lips
n felt the linger of your touch tantalize my skin
sending shockwaves of heat through my bloodstream.
A drug coursing through my veins,
I remain intoxicated.
Self-love abated by addiction –
for my drug of choice.
Flames burned wildly in my being ,
emaciating all of what I thought I knew.
Tearing down the walls of my heart,
scorching muscles, nothing left but tar.
Rebuilt myself with the ashes of our love,
Strangely stronger than before.
No longer comfortable in my own home.
I seek the warmth of your being
unseeing fear and consciousness
flying closer to my Sun
What is the speed of love can I be measured the distance and time – or is it weighted?
How long would you wait on this graveyard-heart to reciprocate feelings for you?
I pour into you in attempts to strengthen me –
Logic unfound. Love unbound.
Trying to get you to be strong and I know you can be – possibly for another woman or is it depending on the incumbent my heart
Must I vacate the space that was once occupied by wisdom, fearlessness and the cries of a heart other than your own?
Is my love for you dependent on a depletion of love for those that came before you or those that do not enter during
I am a lover and my love is something I cannot control; it flows through my being freely. I cannot limit the views of my heart to satisfy the ego of your soul.
I cannot contain my love.
I cannot guarantee that my mind will not be hindered by other contenders.
I cannot commit myself to you because a life of restricted love is insanity.
You call me angel but I cannot save you.
My heart has two homes
One made of glass and one made of stone,
yet I remain incomplete, un-whole
throwing stones at glass
trying to penetrate your perfection,
looking for a crack in your pristine transparency
so I can see a reflection of me.
You are perfect and I am unworthy
dirty, undeserving of your love.
But I stay complacently,
hoping maybe, one day I can be the woman you deserve.
Stringing you along singing the same old song
I cry, I know I’m wrong
I don’t know what to do with your love
I don’t know how to live without your strength.
My heart, a place of stone,
impenetrable, soiled, bruised
every negative adjective I can use
I refuse to force another into its muck
So I’m stuck
halfhearted, half of me is still sitting in another’s arms
with a love that didn’t last.
I don’t know how to let go of the past.
I reach for my stone home
because for its solitude and safety
familiarity I can’t refuse
throwing stones at glass so pure, pristine and perfect
Vulnerable and afraid
stupid and betraying the love of my life
for safety and familiarity.
But the cold stone is all I can relate to,
hardened by the trials of life
I feel at home inside these walls of stone
hiding from my mistakes, my mess, my heartbreak
I need to feel the cold I deserve
the hardening, the pain. I hide the real me in these stone walls
from the glass that exposes the pain.
What does it mean to love?
Is it a noun or is it a verb?
Is it a feeling, anything more than just a word?
For years I mused what the essence of love could possibly mean.
I’ve heard that it can make you feel as royal as the queen
As high as a kite
As if you lie on cloud nine.
I thought love was possession,
But I learned my lesson when the man I thought I loved didn’t respect my discretion.
Love became an interjection to the usual direction of my life, a lesson I was not ready to learn. I became afraid to love.
Real love is simple, uncomplicated and unadulterated giving. I’ve spent my whole life trying to get a man to love me by changing myself to suit his needs. I sought unconditional love by giving myself conditions to be loved. I thought, “He must love me because I’m smart. Or, he must love me because my makeup is perfectly applied and my curls are intact.” In my heart, I believed that once these conditions were removed, the love would be also. Many men proved my theories to be true. But, what I didn’t understand was, these men sought my body and lusted after me. I never loved them, nor did they love me.
Love at its core is the act of selfless giving. Giving your all to someone just to see them smile is loving. There is no required reciprocal act because making your lover happy makes you equally happy. Both lovers will do the same for each other when the love is shared between two people, causing their love to grow. Love is indeed an action word that should be displayed through acts of affection, kindness, and giving. There are different ways to express love and the way it is shown to the ‘beloved’ depends entirely on their ‘lover’, but it is most definitely always shown.
My greatest mistake in love was trying to change myself to be worthy of love. This caused my self-worth and self-love to dwindle. Changing myself instead of expressing my love for the person that holds my affection proved to them that I was not worthy of love. I was untrustworthy. If even my love for myself was conditional, how could they love and trust me to love them for who they are? It would be impossible for love to grow between us when I was too afraid to release any love from my being into someone else. My reserves of love were so depleted that I hoarded all ounces of warmth that I possessed.
It was only when I began to love myself, that I became able to trust my body to regenerate love once it had been shared with others, that I was abe to give love freely. I had to fall in love with myself before I was capable of loving anyone else. Once I was comfortable sharing my love, I poured it into a man who I trusted would do the same for me. We fell in love through acts of kindness, affection, honesty and pure intentions. It is love at it’s simplest form.
Falling, falling, falling
drops of my love on you.
running along your skin
dancing over each fear
& all uncertainty.
Deeper, deeper, deeper
penetrating your skin
flowing through your veins
peaceful, tranquil, relief.
Floating, floating, floating
in the streams of your blood.
in polluted sea.
Cleansing, repairing love
healing misplaced grief.
My insecurity remains the root of my grief
Why didn’t he love me?
Why couldn’t I be what he needed?
Why wasn’t I – but it doesn’t matter
Because these worries run so deep, not even my shallow lust could drown these oceans
So I drown my pillow in tears, mourning the years I thought that we would be – eternally
and I reminisce on what I thought was mine, crying rivers of tears hoping the salt of my earth will run past the roots of your fears
I detest my weak mind for not being able to break this soul tie
I detest my weak heart for not penetrating this wall you’ve built
Around your heart, energy, and essence
Leaving my love to drift alone searching for roots.
I’ll start off by saying that I have very few guy friends in my life. One of whom is an ex. The other two, I sort of stumbled on during my journey. One thing they have all taught me is; men love differently than women.
For me, to love someone means to own and possess them. I need them to be exclusively mine. I also expected the same possession in the way they treat me. I desperately tried to own the last man I dated. I demanded a title from him (which I never got) in order to fulfill my need to be validated. I thought being his would make being me even more worthwhile. I’ve learned that: one: I have a couple issues with my self-esteem; two: men don’t see love as ownership or entitlement. They see it as a choice. I was in no way in love with the last guy I dated (we’ll call him Mr. X since I’ll probably be referring to him a few more times), but knowing that I was choosing to spend my time and energy on him was enough for him. He expected the same for me.
I was perpetually unsatisfied because I didn’t understand why he was comfortable investing time in me while knowing we might not have a future. That brings me to my second point, men live in the moment. To love and to cherish to a man means to continually do so. Men are satisfied when their needs are being met. For lack of a better example, I think of it as giving a dog a treat. When you give a dog a treat, they do not think about whether you forgot to feed them last week, or accidentally stepped on their paw. All is forgotten and they are happy. When you give a man affection and attention, he is happy because he assumes things are fine at that time. That is why they do not understand when women explode with anger, there were no signs leading up to it.
I’m going to go out on a limb here, and propose that as the reason for men cheating in relationships; they want to have their basic needs met. Men are testosterone-driven creatures that enjoy companionship. Once they get used to getting it consistently, if it is taken away, they seek it elsewhere. It seems to be more for their survival than the downfall of their partner. They are simple, primal creatures.
The trouble with friends is when you cannot make amends, your heart cannot be revived without their life.
When fake folks pretend, but your joints have already learned to lean on their strength; you cannot grow, or ascend without their poison.
Your pain, they do not care to understand, yet you sink further into their abyss.