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Dee

If you don't learn to write your own story, someone else will write it for you

18 poems·Since February 2014

I am not a poet

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These Three Words

December 17, 2014

"I'm done enjoy"

Is what he said to me 

Its what he said to a battered soul and a shattered heart 

This was said to a person who has bloodied hands

and calloused palms fighting for another three words 

"I trust you"

"I need you"

"I want you"

"Come over now"

"Let's make love"

"I love you"

But 

I am a cracked '45 record spinning on a turntable

of an abandoned house repeating over and over and over and over and over and over ...

"I'm done enjoy"

Enjoy. Am I in joy?

Do you think I walked into joy with a lifted head and bright skin and shining teeth?

I am in-capable. Because my nose is running and my eyes are blinded by my tear ducts.

I am in-audible. Because my throat is dry from unexpressable feelings cuz its obvious you just don't get it

I am in-visible. Because you can't see how this is affecting me mentally and reflectively. Like a lifeguard  with eyes wide shut to the land creatures drowning in his ocean when he swore he would save them

I am in-describable. Because I want to throw up words before it burns a toxic hole in my belly but I can't fucking comprehend what just happened

I am in-vaded. Because you are a poacher inside of me taking out my most important gems as I am left with the scraps to build again and appraoch someone else broken into 1 million more pieces. 

But then I looked at my tear-stained hands that were still moving

I clenched my hands into a fist and touched my chest and felt the  muscle that was still beating 

I moved my fists to my temples and felt my skull protecting my wrinkled lobes that were still thinking

so

I wiped my face and swallowed spit to moisten my throat just to say three words 

Three words that I finally feel

"I. Am. Free"

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