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A Love Quote
For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart. It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul. -- Judy Garland
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Addicted to da poetic game
Laid awake on late nights
producing lines of
poetic aspirations to the beat
of the rain that fell freely from
blood shot eyes,
soaking endless pages of
while she watched ink flowing,
witnessing poems commit suicide
from the broken hearts
She embodied into
wide ruled cell blocks.
Heard them whisper lullabys
and death wishes in the form of
whimpers her pen and paper created.
She offered no salvation when
She drowned thoughts of her words
hypnotiq and hennesy
just so she could bleed literature from her soul
the blackened tears that
kept her womb weeping.
Page after page
She birthed prophecies in forms of
heart broken memories
hoping for just one second to herself,
so maybe poetry
wouldnt be the only thing she secreted
during late nights
when she found myself alone