Ghosted


The texts stopped abruptly No more good mornings and
tears and anxiety replace the dopamine rush I cry in silence and my fingers twitch to text "Why"? But instead, I will cry these tears and dry these tears and smile tomorrow because this too shall pass.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Visitor

 Oh you pale skinned, thin lipped one With the covetous eyes Century after century you stride  Across nations leaving trails of blood and gore  The Congolese paid for your visit with the fractured arms of men, women and children, Africans visited your abode like cattle, sold of and branded  You took off one mask and wore another  Self proclaimed superior  who survived from the teat of Africa and the backs of her children You led and segregated  Stole the lands and looked down  your noses as Africa broke and grew, grew and died, died and knew, knew and now fight, You steely eyed thieves, dripping with lies,  Providing the guns and bullets to brothers who fight and die for you the ghoul to steal their carcasses. Your visit is the visit of the dead
Read more

Time

 The revealer, arbiter, leveler of time you fall heavily, softly, slowly, you fall on us all we are all allotted portions of your rare gifts,  careful portions, spaces that seem to spawn and seem so small we crawl and walk, some do not and fade we walk and talk , but that portion is denied to orders we talk and comprehend, while others fly into the abyss of the void we know, grow and blossom, beautiful and strong, we think and worry  we worry and accept the fates, some broken, some fiery, some weary and jaded we see the signs of the passing days, on our faces, on our hair, in the eyes of children, who start the same circle, we wait and rest, our weary bones, tired legs and long for days of the past. our deaths are the comeuppance of living, we spent out time 
Read more

Circle

 Broken and beaten Fears have become life that swallow and destroy till there are no thoughts but fear and its spawn which keep me in its eternal grasp I cry to heaven for some respite and try to find the reason for this plight but I have atoned for the sins in my youth my hands are t pure oh what it would be to live and see and not slink and think and hope and slink  a loop of transmuting and dying not seeing life as it passes but hoping that life stops and heals before its next punch
Read more