Black Poetry : Bent

story

Well-Known Member
REGISTERED MEMBER
Jul 23, 2002
200
1
Brooklyn, NY
Occupation
Student of Life
Bent



What kind of shape is this…

I’m bent over backwards
And turned sideways looking
I don’t think I can take anymore,
The stench of this
Once relationship
Brings my soul to a boil
While steam seeps out of my ears
After all these years
We’ve come to realize---
That we’ve outgrown each other

I heard you talk to her…

And listening to a voice
That used to harmonize with mine
Speak love into another’s ear
Has stretched my heart across the sky
Lit me up like sundown on the fourth of July
And pieces of me break into a billion more pieces
Falling into the unknown---
Seems like a circle of events…

Love, argue, apologize, love---
Love, argue, apologize, love…
No break
A continuous cycle
Hitting the edges of pain
On each round
What kind of shape is this…
My center hurts
The core of me
Is pouring out
Orally---
Sobs, I cry
I die a little, but not completely
It hurts
Trying to run out of myself,
Through the doors of my heart
And down the hallways of my face
Finally seeping through the cracks of my slightly ajar
Corridor soul
It’s a chore just living, trying to be whole
And hold on upright position
Life, it’s a mission

Somebody straighten me out…
(c)2000
~Story:eek:
 

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