The Day Our Love Became a Song
Ororo Taylor
Love is like food for the soul,
Warm and hardy, he’ll tell me he loves me and I’ll hunger no more,
When it rumbles he’ll fill me a bowl of himself and feed me.
Love is like music for the soul,
A gentle lullaby whispered into my ear like the soft voice of a mother.
This'll be my first time being loved.
Love is like dance for the soul,
Our love is motion dancing to the beat of our own drum like a bass-line,
They all watch as I dance through your arms like a girl on fire,
Your body is my pail, you wet me and the beat stops.
Love is like seasons changing like the first leaf of fall and the first snowflake of winter.
Love is the desire for love and the desire to be loved like no other,
Metaphors fill my mind of you, like well-written letters or a chorus to a song.
At some point, you became my soul,
My drum, my wind, my weather,
My change, my love,
My life, my heart,
My heartbreak, the thread mending my heart,
The doctor of my soul, my love,
My heart beats to the downbeat of yours,
My body hums to the piano of yours and that is the day our love became a song
The Night Color Died
Ororo Taylor
The night color died, I was awakened by the slam of a door,
You had come home once again on a tirade about your day,
I barricaded the doors like the city of Troy begging for it to be over,
But it never was.
Spring became fall than winter, again and again,
“Let me in”, “Let me in”,
You spew at the oak wood door until one day
You stopped and so did the seasons,
In an eternal winter I ran to the door throwing anything in my path to the ground
But to no avail.
The night color died I wrapped myself in a blanket and sang a lullaby
The absence of color was a lot like winter,
Cold and the absence of you was a lot like my childhood,
Lonely, the first color to go was orange and yellow
Too bright for the event it ran out of the sky and down the sewage pipes,
Then blue, red and green until,
There was no color,
I don’t know if you stopped yelling at the door,
Or if I just got used to the noise but,
The night we called it quits is the night color died
And so did you and I.
Meeting Myself
Karina Josephitis
The way you and I were the same person amazed me.
The more I saw myself in you, the more I loved myself because of you.
It’s crazy how I could love you so much yet dislike myself, when we are one.
What I Am
Karina Josephitis
My heart is not a toy.
It is not to be played with, nor tugged on, nor tampered with.
I am fragile and break easily.
I cannot come along with a warning, you will not truly see me until you open me up.
I am not for the weak-minded, nor the faint-hearted.
My soul is not a Jenga game.
You cannot choose what piece to take and where to place it.
I am not a guitar.
My heartstrings are thin and I really wish you wouldn’t pull them.
They will break,
And as will I.
The End of the World
Karina Josephitis
Tonight I stayed inside my room, I did not leave once.
The only sounds made were the quiet weeps and slow footsteps from pacing around my room, although my head was overflowing with thoughts and feelings.
My body being engulfed by a dark, deep hole.
Being in the space where I last saw you,
the memory of you plastered all over my walls and sheets.
The paraphernalia you left behind tricks my brain as though you’re still here,
but you’re not.
Everywhere I look is you, even when I look at myself.
Healing
Karina Josephitis
The words repeating in my head of the last things you said to me.
They haunt me.
The sleepless nights and moments spent wondering where I went wrong.
I’ve stared too long and too hard into the mirror at the scars you’ve left behind.
Silently judging what I see before me.
All the imperfections you gave me that I’ve never seen before pop up like a bad break-out the night before an important event.
I try to clear the thoughts out like I do the acne on my face, but I can’t seem to rid the scatter.
The you you used to be is what I miss the most. I wish the feeling of you attached to you as I once was, and had left along with you.