Revenant...

Revenant...

A Poem by P.S. Buford III
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just some over-emotional lines brought on by my frustrations with love and relationships.

"

Feeling like i’m onto something.

As if i’ve figured out why my bones

Yearn for something familiar that my

eyes don’t know and my heart can only

guess and grasp at straws to glimpse

My cells remember her but my waking memories

Always find a blank, a void that pulls anything similar

into its outline, attempting to force a fit out of foreign objects,

faces i’ve objectified and ultimately treated facetiously

because my soul longs for an ideal that no longer exists to me.

My issues are rooted six feet deep between two other relatives

and the fruit falling from its branches bear the names of

lives i found sweet at the first bite but left a sour aftertaste

that made bitter history of each experience, all because

the image i seek no longer resides on this side of life.

I’ve heard stories about the woman who gave up

9 months and more towards my first breaths

and every one of them sends my nerves on a wild goose chase

whenever i think i’ve seen her reincarnated 2 decades later

but to no avail, and despite my other mothers’ efforts at

providing examples to one day recapture 

the reality of it is, my standards are built on fantasy

thus every failed relationship up til now is founded on fallacy

because someone told me, we often marry people that

remind us of our parents, well if thats the case then my

unborn children must be half phantom.

I’ve got this ghost cornered, these words are demands

as to why i’m haunted for a sin i didnt willingly take part in

I never asked to be here, and would’ve never done it without you

Angela, why are you repaying my birth with all of these doubts?

Am i destined to suffer for my father’s crimes against your love?

Did you name me after him just so your pain could find us both

In the hopes that one of us would actually feel your absence?

Every girl i’ve ever wanted will never measure up to this

Graven image that everyone you left behind carved out

in desperation to bring your essence back

Mom you’ll never know how much I needed you.

But every woman i’ve hurt can easily see what I lack.

© 2013 P.S. Buford III


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Added on August 8, 2013
Last Updated on August 8, 2013
Tags: love, relationships, my-poetry, poetry

Author

P.S. Buford III
P.S. Buford III

Los Angeles, CA



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