Lonely Man

He was a lonely man.
I could tell by the way he wanted me all to himself.
He held me,
Like he held hope.
But his eyes were wondering somewhere else.

He is stuck.
And I am unable to move.
Both entangled in false hope.
I need him to be somebody.
He is too stuck in depression.
He doesn’t need me.
He needs we.
But we is me.

We don’t vibrate to the same frequency. I’ve learned my way around loneliness.
He hasn’t.
He is trying to use my presence as a crutch to support his unfulfilled yearning.

I was light,
But he still remained in darkness.
In fear of what might lurk.
He placed his love in many hearts,
To fulfil his every need.
Wasn’t afraid of the dark because, Darkness was He.

♥ Kamiz

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Pain demands to be felt…

There is nothing worse than being surrounded by people and still feeling extremely lonely.

Because nobody hears your demons when they slowly plow at your soul.

Everyone is caught up in their own lives, feeding the monster that have engulfed their soul.

I’ve been lingering around the city with unmet emotions for the longest time.

The nicest thing about being alone is that it’s associated with loneliness.
So it all makes sense and it’s easier to take in and understand.

So I- cut off most of my soul satisfying social media drugs.
And withdrawal immediately started kicking in.

I got to see that people don’t identify Me with silence.
And without noise, I’m unseen, unheard, Unmissed, and virtually nonexistent.

And that all they crave is my attention. Only giving, what I put forth.

It’s quite unfortunate, because right now, my life makes anything, but sense.

Unable to move forward or back.
I’m stagnant.
I’m still.

I’m sitting here with pain I never thought belong to me.
It’s starring blankly at me,
I can believe that it’s my portion.

It doesn’t move.

It doesn’t flinch.

My crying isn’t taken it away.

For the the first time, my tears are the only thing that stay.

Mrs Blue Black Purple

She looks at me through blue, black and purple. 

Heavy rings around her eyes.

No ring on her finger.

Mentally enslaved.

Temporary bruises beneath her clothing.

Permanent scaring underneath her skin. 

The colours of her pain have substituted her friends.

He left her to choke.

She can no longer see his face.

She seems to have forgotten about grace.

She runs back into his arms like they’re her refuge.

I never understood the notion of looking for happiness in the same place you lost it.

She can no longer identify love.

Her solitude must taste like freedom.

She down plays her hurt…

Discredits her logic.

She no longer sees her beauty.

She believes loving him, is her duty.

She no longer loves herself.

It’s evident by the way she carries herself.

I watch her from the sidelines, and wish that I could erase every bad memory of hers, but I know those will eventually build her.

She looks at me through the colour of bruises and I hold her tightly because I know I’m the only one who sees this side of her.

And forever I will hold her as tight as I can. 

Is This Really The End? (part 6)

No joy comes from being the other woman.
Lust will never be enough to sustain you.

LaurakinsTrain

You beg and plead. I even have you on your knees But that won’t change my mind. She needs to know EVERYTHING!!

You get angry. A volcano of emotions explode all over your body. Trying to scare me with your Hulk like anger. Baby you wouldn’t even harm a fly. What makes you think you would lay a hand on me?

[Remember when you’d strut around like a god? When the world was at your feet and what you desired, you got. Your gloating to your homies- you got them both. Puny god…]

You gather your stuff and leave like a wounded puppy.

I’m left alone with my thoughts. I’m ready to tell. I want her to know about our sins and secrets. This heavy load on my shoulders is weighing me down. Am I ready to ruin our friendship? I’m not ready to cast dark clouds over HER happy…

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F 4 u – fela ella

I just wanted you that one time. That that one stroke

That one night.

That last kiss, that last cuddle. 

You’re trying to talk about how much you want me forever but my eyes roll and I scream for you to touch me there..

I know I won’t want you later or care for your feelings. 

I never have, never fucking will..

Just keep me company, hold me while I dig into you.

lust for me like you love me, then leave me without your name. 

Your confessions of love make me sick.

I don’t want you, I just want him, his tenderness his negativity his everything. 

I’m fucked up and you don’t even realise. My arms hurt from the slicing, my lungs hurt from the smoking. 

My heart aches to hear your voice again, so that you can tell me that you love me.

and I’ll lie and tell you that “I love you too.”

Fela Ella

♥ Kamiz

Over the years

For me, it doesn’t make sense to still entertain the same bullshit from boys, I once did, when my chest was freshly stung by bees.

I have learned that, the holding of a hand means nothing but two different fingerprints in really close proximity. 

I no longer fall for boys who selectively listen to the words that escape my mouth before I can even taste them… and after a few fights and lonely nights, the same words escaping their breath and echoing in my bad decisions.

And if I could get any financial incentive for every Penis Being on this earth that has sent me a crappy, cold but warm seeming “I miss you” text, on every single social network I have been on, since I owned a phone, I would have accumulated enough funds to secure a three course meal for every hungry child, in my mother land, on my most loneliest night.  

It is through my sisters, that I have learned that a happy bed, doesn’t make up for a happy home.

It’s crazy how the pursuit of one* organ can completely shut down all other bodily functions…

Before you know it.

You cannot eat.

You cannot breathe.

You cannot sleep.

You cannot think.

And without these,

You cannot be yourself.

And that girl you vowed to never be.

You take every living fibre of her DNA…

You can no longer tell the two of you apart.

and he’s just happy, that it is a twisted form of a threesome.

This Is Just a List

I) The amount of words it took for me to fall in love.

II) These are the times I gave you my heart as a second chance to make sure you break it right.

III) Three words I grew so fond of, being that I had never heard them before.

IV) This is what your aftershocks rate by on the Richter scale, still able to bring cities to ruin.

V) Five, five times I thought I was lucky enough that you’d actually call me yours and mean it.

VI) I always wished the waves would crash at our feet one night.

VII) This was the age I started dreaming of a girl like you, seven. It’s just a myth now.

VIII) Eight times, also the age that I saw your reflection in small pools of water between rocks on the beach.

IX) Nine, the age I learned I could throw my heart at someone as a grenade and leave them amputated.

X) By ten, I stopped believing in love and started believing that no matter how long you wait, nothing good ever comes.

By Jake Muir
20 June 2014
twitter – @pieniiune

♥ Kamiz