evolution of self-love/hate

little brown skinned girls, with skinned knees
and pigtails
skin bleeds
laughter in streets fade into the sound of the wind
and the colors of the day swirl
and night falls

she's alone in her thoughts again
the place where he creeps in
and empty memories
seep in
like spilled juice into a carpet
soaking up until it
stains the wood floor beneath
stains her ability to believe

quiet idolization of a figment
brown like her, with her lips,
maybe her hair
if he saw her in his reflection would he even
stop to care
smoke billows from between lips that curl
and curse
sometimes fake amusement creases
that face
but mostly it's a mask of centuries of self-hate

pigtails become pressed hair
dresses with bows becomes jeans and shirts that cling
behind her eyes is a hardened stare
the kind that years of neglect can bring
he dances like a mirage in the distance
she waves him away waiting for the bus at the bus stop

time to stop dreaming
time to realize
he'll never see the hurt behind her eyes
father
daddy
man
sperm donor
heart breaker
she's empty on one side

flavored.

fingertips that burn with desire, meet skin aching for approval,
to receive their passionate imprint of ecstasy
give it to me

raspberry sherbet and neapolitan colored skies
decorate the window's reflection painting brown skin
moist with lover's condensation
soul to soul
beat to beat
even when there is no pulse
still
breathing for one another

special delivery

the universe gift wrapped you, left you on a doorstep
but it wasn’t mine
the delivery went to the wrong address
so when i opened the door and breathed in the air
where you were supposed to be
i realized it would be quite a while
before you’d get to me

...but i can't

phrases fall from your lips like atomic bombs
dropping into the open terrain of my heart
destroying everything upon impact, splintering the love that would be
bleeding the soul that would need
speaking in despair, searching for feelings and emotions
that no longer are there
you want me to do more than care
but i can’t

carefully dodging your verbal landmines
each step calculated, each sound orchestrated
symphony of methodical verbage paying homage
the strings of holding on sound shrill in the night air
you want me to do more than care
but i can't

quick. pull the pins.
grenades of jealousy fly above my head
i dodge, i move quickly as to not break their fall
you'd rather see me in pieces
if you can't have me at all
one step ahead, i've managed to escape
with minor injuries
a bruised heart is better than a broken spirit
you want me to do more than care
but i can't