August 13, 2016

The Woman I killed a little


 

I am like that rebellious teen
That experiences and always is keen 
To make mistakes and sin
Yet I never let the pace ever bump 


Untill I bump into a woman 
Pure, loveable and kind
But I leave her behind 
Like a doll hugging every teardrop


Signs of her memory stays 
In my heart and gives me the stirs
The teenage me dries out of tears


Tell me how to hope back and forth
Behind my face a woman I don't know 
While imprisoned within my affliction 
and loneliness


Her features are carved with poisoned hunger
The memory of her laugh pursuits me
to kill me in the darkness


You my kind hearted the fault is mine
I committed death to waste time
Let the sleep come to my side 
And give mercy to my tired face 
Sadness I received early on my age
Is the only thing I can give away.




ShadiatiQue © 2010-2016 
 Follow shadiatique on Twitter

8 comments:

  1. Oh I do think that many times those sins come back to haunt us... maybe more than the victim... Maybe those memories are what makes us better people...

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  2. We all do live in between who we are and who we would love to be, but sometimes are afraid...what you said completely resonates with me, went to something similar myself, but at the and of the day we make choice who we want to be - I think that matters most.

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  3. Haunting and tender piece - feels to me like it needs a sequel... I shall be back for more of your ambitious work.

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  4. Gayle Walters RoseAugust 14, 2016 at 4:31 AM

    There's a sense of admiration and yearning for that woman who you left behind. I enjoyed the real emotion that I felt in this piece...powerful.

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  5. Thanks everyone. I might write a sequel, not sure yet.

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  6. Laughter of missing
    Love.. a hum from past
    that refuses to go numb..
    Loving
    life with
    laughter
    memories
    of solace liGhter..:)

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