Funerals

Funerals no longer make me cry.

Death is so often now. And I wonder when this change happened.

I sit in the pew wide-eyed not the least bit bushy-tailed. The bodies are so still. Yet I cannot bring myself to view them. I cannot bring myself to look in their faces.

 

 

“Warning”

warning (n.): a statement or event that indicates a possible or impending danger, problem, or other unpleasant situation.


The end is nearing…and I will be able to say, “I told you so.”

Because I told you so.

Not because of some mental illness.

Not because of lies.

Not because of miscommunication.

Not because of the others.

Because I told you so.

I attempt to warn you. Make you see the errors of your ways.

You shrug caution off. I tell you that it is okay.

But you can’t say that I didn’t tell you so.

 

“Mistake”

The void is still here.
I’ve been attempting to fill it with others since you’ve been gone.
Others that resemble you on the inside. More or less.
I haven’t had any luck.
Still, after all the time that has passed, after everything that’s been said (and done),

I miss you.

I love you.

I hope wherever you are on your journey that you are doing well.
I heard that you called. Of course, you knew I’d hear about it.
They believe that it is a sign. Fate, somehow.
That we’re meant to be.
Maybe it didn’t mean a thing.
A mistake.

“You’re Beautiful”

I cannot say that I recall my father ever calling me beautiful, pretty, or gorgeous.

As I ponder on my reactions to the relationships shared between I and other people in my life, more and more of my childhood traumas and unfortunate events therein, travel to the forefront of my mind.
At the prime age of 22, I realize where I’ve fallen short as an individual.
I do not aim to place blame on others for pains that I’ve caused them or my decision to react, or not react, to particular circumstances.

I merely wish to reflect.

I want to reflect on my own life and my upbringing.
I wish to question why.

Although I’m quite sure that nothing either one of them could say is going to rectify the past 22 and a half years of pain that I’ve experienced on account of their naivety.

Besides, it is not their fault.

My parents can only mirror what has been fostered in themselves.
This post is not to bash my parents. I love my parents. In fact, I know in my heart that they both love me. The issues are the effects, unknown to my parents, which caused considerable emotional turmoil among my siblings and I. All of them.

I long for an answer, a solution, a way out of it.

I was told that the only way out is through and I guess that will have to do.

Men tell me all the time that I am beautiful. Hell, women too.
Although appreciated, those little compliments from people outside of my biological parents could never measure up to what I craved. What I yearned for from them.
Do I hear it? Does it matter? Do I believe them? Do I believe that about myself?
I always feel that I have a void to fill with something. Self-love? Possibly.
Everything is a temporary fix.
Once it is fixed for good, I will not be visiting here again.

 

“SG”

Sometimes I feel like a stupid girl. A dumb stupid girl.

Who cannot do anything right.

My work.

My passion.

My academics.

My exercising routine.

My love life.

My love life.

The world continues to move.

I do not.

I stay stagnant. In this place of not knowing who I truly am or what bothers me.

 

 

 

 

“Hearts Cry”

I’m not good at love.

I’m not good for love.

I try. Oh God, I try. But it’s never right.

It’s never correct.

It’s never enough. Or, it’s too much.

True love.

Where art thou?

Are you somewhere in the clouds?

Are you hiding from me?

Is it you? Is it us?

When?

How?

**This poem was inspired by the late and great Langston Hughes.

Lovelorn

I love too hard and too much…

You cannot love one so soon, they say.

I say, damn them.

I can love whoever I want. Whenever I want.

It’s my love and i shall do with it whatever I please.

If you do not accept my love, it is not my fault. The only issue is yourself.

Not me.

I have been penalized for wanting and giving love.

How can something so pure, so magical, so beautiful, be tainted by societal norms?

I say, damn society.

It is my love and I shall do with it whatever I please.