Longing and Black

A Bubo/CSR Joint....what can I say, she makes me look good.

Longing and Black

 

 

What makes a good woman all longing and black?

Perfectly trampled, left two dimensional, an obsolete paper doll

She sat and rocked away forty years of wax paper happiness, no stick

"I ate his potential like an aged and perfectly marbled steak....choking on the grisly fat"

 

I stare right ahead lying on starched sheets

Spasms of panic coat my imploring thoughts

Like a shroud of darkness it covers my sins

No stoking of my fires eclipsing moonlight

But death of dreams lost in endless years

             To the glory of a man I so fear

 

What makes a tired woman fold up her sails?

That gripping horizon too far for walking, the sunrise riveting, but false

Instead, screaming out at the sunset, "please don't go down again", not many left

"I bound my thoughts instead of my feet, and now they are small and in your rear-view"

 

How many sunsets did I wait

To only watch the tides rising

My face is no longer my face

With every line of you etched in its place

I never ran, but buckled with every taste of liberty

Every thrust an agony, every kiss a purgatory

Every page your story, every show your territory

Bound by society, hinging on your insanity

What makes a loving woman percolate hate?

Gaskets made for sealing, thought and opinion, rotten and dry

Droplets of bitterness, steaming on outdated pipes, bursting

"He dined again and again on the fullness of my bosom.....depleting essential nutrients"

 

I prayed for strength, to slice into your heart while you slept

I prayed for silence from the ugliness in my head

Instead, the power of your stance, the tone of your voice

Collided somewhere between hell and breaking point

A house that rattles, floors that moan

Walls steeped in misery, cutting off every corner stone

 

How does a crippled woman find her legs?

Is it too late to find my place in the sun, burning my own tracks

Creeping to a destination of reflective comfort, shining again

“I am resilience personified, strong, beautiful, rising…..still loving”

 

But there's one tiny little thing you forgot

In all those years, I weeded my plot

Abandoned my draughts, my steel bars

And dug up every bit of rot,

My abattoir of sanctuary, my final star

And I'm flying through your cold hateful heart

 

Respect

Regret

No turning back

Longing and black

Author's Note

Thanks Bubo...not often a fan gets to write with a hero.

Reviews

[Robin]

your two styles have layered into an amazing parfait of human emotion