The living ain’t easy
It hasn’t taken away everything
there is still me inside.
Don’t forget I rise, fall, stumble, then I suppose because I’m here, I rise.
See even grey lizards can be
Newborn from cinders.
My number is definitely not over
Mother’s nature to beta block a seizure on Kronos’s clock.
merely an earthling in my mortal dregs tried
to take my heartbeat, crush it in my hands
So many times,
Yet here I still am.
I pulverised the very heart of my soul
This beaten path
Led to a southern state in need of heart donors
Many lived as secluded slaves
pieces pulled apart.
I may be flawed but you’re no patron saint
for you have a blood hue lusting for the Big Easy.
See there it is!
Blemished if only so faint.
Self-hatred became queasy & took it out on my star crossed lover
Call it, resting bitch face syndrome.
My love can be seen -it hovers.
Moments of Rapture are fleeting
Take time to bask in my lover’s latest sunshades.
Who’s to say we’ll never meet up with
a black dog again
– a self-made state of oppression.
The Living aint easy.
my relationships my temper and I write to make sense of my thoughts)
Posted on Jun 13, 2020, in power poets and tagged Beliefs, Emotions, Family matters, free verse poetry, heartache, Love, marriage, mortality, MY WORLD, Recovery, Soul Mates. Bookmark the permalink. 4 Comments.