Throwback 

   
I came across this piece just now and I was completely unaware that I wrote it, until I was half way through. 

In those seconds, it dawned on me how unbelievablely easy it was for me to write about topics I had absolutely no idea of.

Now, that I’m learning to be aware of my emotions, writing has become such a foreign talent of mine.

Long story short, I can finally relate to what what I used to write about and now that I’m experiencing it, I find it difficult to write.

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Pillow Talk 

You poured your heart out to me on a pillow and then we started fucking,

I swiftly slid it under me,

Because I’d rather have it draped in bodily fluids than the smell of your broken heart.

A Mile; In Suicidal Shoes

you’re not a bad person for the way you kill your sadness…

Each pill dissolving on your tongue, the way you wished your pain would.

But pain is not like people,
you can’t just talk it away,

And people aren’t simple,
you cannot force them to stay.

99 pills at once,

Like problems shoved down your throat.

Difficult to swallow.

Difficult to breathe.

life isn’t easy.

Death is a breeze.

your living pain is unbearable,
And you can’t wait to leave.

Coping, are your eyes,
Struggling to stay awake.

Starved is your heart,
Unable to eat joy.

Confused is your mind,
How could misery be so happy, when it always has you in mind.

No suicide note.

No one deserves to know how frozen their coldness left you.

How their ghostly words
that escaped their tongue
now haunt you-
Like you will now haunt them.

You’ve managed to stop the world from spinning.

Slowly floating away.

Never felt anything so great.

Embracing you body for the fight, maybe now, it too, will understand the scars you placed above every vain.

It too, will fully feel the pain you’ve been exposed to.

You hoping nothing goes wrong, because it’s way too right.

So light as a feather,
is this moment.
Unable to feel the ground.

You feel rest,
Drowning in peace.

As your troubled soul escapes from you

Happy,

That no one is nearby to save you.

Happiness like this doesn’t last
It turns into pain of the past.

you clinch every single part of you.

Then finally

With your last breath

YOU.ARE.FREE

Stranger

I don’t know why I’m writing this,
But it kinda feels good…

I know you’re somewhere out there 
Probably reading this…

I’m assuming you’re a Stranger 
Who probably knows nothing about me
Because for long, those closest to me didnt even know I write poetry. 

So any judgments you make of me
Will be based on this poem,
Or perhaps the other poems I’ve written.
I like that!

I like how I can slightly control what you think of me.
Showing you my good,
My bad,
Or what you may regard as My ugly.

I like the idea of you formulating your opinion about me, based on that alone.

I know this won’t make much sense…
But I truly appreciate you & your presence.
I appreciate you taking time off your busy life,
Just to read words that I’ve managed to rip off my chest,  
Because those closest to me,
Those who swear they love me, 
Just don’t have the time… 

That’s what I like about you I guess
The fact that you’re here 
Actually giving a damn about me,
Or at least leading me an ear… 

At this very moment in time,
I can be anyone I want to be
Just to create the perfect first impression,
But instead,
I choose to be myself.
I’d like to have a chance to be loved for who, I am for once.
Even if it’s just for a moment..
I may never feel it,
But that mere thought will keep me going.

Either way Stranger,
I thank you… 
I thank for allowing me 
To make my first impression on you, 
For giving me a chance to start over,
For somehow making me feel loved…

We’ll probably never meet 
Or cross paths again…
This will probably eventually fade from your memories before dusk falls or the sun rises.
And I Will probably forget that I ever wrote this.  
but in this moment
Or souls have collided, 
And we will never be, like we once were…

For The Body

It never crossed my mind that taking my clothes off for a couple of sweet words was beyond unethical.

You see, Prostitution is a trade-off between morals & money.
But what do you call it when you trade your morals for attention?

Society taught me, who I am, isn’t good enough,
Since then, I’ve been in search of validation,
& in return, I left my body in complete annihilation,
Because I’m too busy living to give a damn about my education.

I’m too busy putting on makeup because I don’t like the sight of my bare reflection.

My mind & body are in some sort of bittersweet altercation.

I seem to allure strangers that may never be properly introduced to my spirit but land up getting introduced to the demons in my head.

Their naked bodies creep into my bed smelling of another woman’s stench.

They, fondle my breasts,
And I effortlessly part my legs
Like the red sea spread for Moses
With each deep stroke leaving my sheets a bloody mess…

Their patience for me,
Proportionally inverse to their dick size.
And…
After the hot sex,
Their emotions for me evaporate faster than the sweat in between our fully satisfied bodies.

Situation left sticky…

So heavily drenched in lonely that they don’t even bother to hold me…
Scared that my loneliness might linger on the follicles of their skin.

Fuck bitch! i’ll call you back in 2 minutes
wounded up being a few weeks,

Mind heavily impregnated,
Fueled with a million assumptions & insecurities …
Because they forever make my body a vessel that makes them come, & at times on my face,

But won’t be around when the bitter tears race, like my tears are some sort of kryptonite to their manhood…

They’ll never know the million scars that hide the very pain I scratch in their back.

When they come back,
They bite my lip so hard,
And suck out the bitter taste they left lingering on my lips from the last time.

So damaged, that I’ll probably only be able to recognize my own reflection with the broken piece of the mirror used to draw lines that satisfy my addiction.

The voices in me don’t sound like me anymore, they sound more like demons, demons that sound like them.

At this point,
My body is well acquainted with every position in the karma sutra,

We don’t even bother with foreplay, because I’m already wet,

Then I hear a careless whispers…

“baby girl, this doesn’t suit ya”

Thing is, I’m not doing this to look good, I do this to feel good…

All I ever wanted, was to be more than a wounded 2nd option

I heard
“time heals all”
But what do I do when every day it feels like the hands on my clock also suffer,
But with arthritis,
Barely moving…

See, I’ve been looking for God EVERYWHERE,
everywhere but the bible,

Trying to figure out the notion about this thing called man…

Because Adam was easily manipulated by Eve,
But all my pussy power can do, is manipulate men to leave.

They pulled me from their chest, put an apple in my hand & blame me for their mess…

I lay in bed crying for invisibility because when I look up, the reflection I see of myself, is the god in him…

I know that the story ends in sin…

Many lifeless bodies who could have been lawyers, doctors, pro athletes lay breathless suffocated in latex on the pile of tissues left in my bin…

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