he's chewing on

the shadows of her

in his memory,

trying to taste

that feeling

of morning,

when he made his way

through the dark

as she slept,

already missing the sound

of her breathing

in rhythm

with his tiptoes,

knowing with each step

she'd wake up

disappointed that

she didn't get to

tie her heart to the scene

of him pulling himself away,

but she's never looked down

on herself like this,

with parted lips,

sleeping as though

all the world existed,

to give her rest,

and he'll chisel

the moment like stone

until recollection becomes silk

and every detail is captured

like sunrise bleeding blessings

upon his day.

and she'll dream

of making him coffee

while he locks the door.

and he'll wish the sun would die,

so his day could be filled with

dreams of her,

instead of memories

too swift to hold

if feelings were

limbs strung from our bodies

would sorrow heal

wrapped in colored plaster

casts the class scribbled on in sharpie?

/amy.bobeda

I burn myself in fire to keep you warm

I bleed the River Nile trying to heal your wound

Yes, I cry you an ocean and you sail across on a boat

I drown myself in that ocean just to help you stay afloat

I hold seas in my eyes yet you are rather intrigued by its food

Yes, I give you the sweetness of life to enter my bees' swarm.

Notwithstanding, my thoughts are: 

Stars I cannot fathom into a constellation;

Words I cannot communicate in Shakespearean dialect

Musical notes I cannot arrange into a Mozart piece

But yet you shatter my broken hearts into pieces

And acting like you don't care, you stay quiet

Wondering how I could remain in your imagination.

You silenced my thoughts in Babel's tower

For you to awaken my voice in the graveyard

You heat me up to boiling up, now you ask for breathing space

Yet when I give you the whole world you demand for Space

Thinking I'm Armstrong, perhaps I'm not strong to keep up your pace.

Yes, I surrendered my heart to you 

Like the Aladura's claiming to be born anew.

But you mistake it for dust-

The dust which the cleaner ignores,

The harmmatan dust that lives people pale

Still you lead me on, dragging me on your Clydesdale

Knowing I would fall for your subterfuge

As a broken soul in need of refuge.

Yes, you shattered my already-broken heart

Thinking you could outsmart me with your sweetheart art.

Now I look at the ocean from a canoe

And shout from the south.

My north latitude will always be the thorn in your altitude.

INDEX:

Aladura’s: Classification of churches that abide by a Christian religious denomination founded in 1918 in West Africa

Harmattan: A season in West Africa, which is characterized by dry and dusty trade wind, of the same name, which blows from the Sahara Desert over West Africa into the Gulf of Guinea.

I'm selfish,

I know this.

I want to be loved,

By everyone,

For no reason at all.

But the world doesn't

Work that way.

you thought i was

tattered lace and

wilted flowers,

an easy fix of

stitches and sun

but i will take

the needle and

leave you the thread

to reopen wounds,

i will blister

my hands

to grasp the sun

and blind you

so you never think my

tattered lace and

wilted flowers

are an easy fix of

stitches and sun,

so you never think my

open wounds and

blistered hands

are the sinless scars of

purity and love,

so you always know i'm

a monster

in tattered lace, and

i will eat, i will eat

your tender heart.

You take our umbrella sweet

I'll be alright out in the street

Let me warm the car for you

I washed and gassed it up too

I planted pots of tulips

On the hill of many vines

One for you and one for me

My baby Valentine

As they grow they must endure the rapid winds of high

The rains, the storms the seasons as they grow up to the sky

I'll still hold your umbrella 

I'll open doors for you

I'm proud to be your fella

Your Valentine too

Now here's a little teddy bear with chocolate in his paws

His big brown eyes beg you to please

consider matrimony laws

The little bear I give to you wants me down on one knee

And ask you baby here's a ring, Will you marry me?

You don't know how deserving of love you are.

No one told you.

So when love took a hold of you

Panicked and frightened you attacked.

Hardened, killing every effect it had

shuting down your need for this gift.

Looking for some reason why you are better than that.

You felt soft so you told yourself you were weak.

Not knowing only hard surfaces break.

Mad.

No I can't be mad.

She is a pretty girl.

A nice girl.

A friend.

You

Are just someone

I admire from afar.

The only part of you

I know by heart

Is your smile.

The smile you have

Around her.

She brings out the

Beautiful things in you.

But is it so selfish

To wish that were me?

Is it so selfish that I wish

I could bring you glee?

I would sweep you off

Your feet

And in just seconds you

Would forget about

Everything else.

You would only remember

Me.

This heart inside my chest

Wants to be sad,

But all it wants is your happiness.

I suppose that's what she gives you.

It breaks my fall

But it doesn't stop my heart

From breaking.

Love is complicated.

There are words beneath my skin

That I do not dare search for.

There is a songbird

Trapped in my ribcage

That I have learned to ignore.

And my poetry has suffered for it.