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Cover image for post I am not good at words, by Tyla
Profile avatar image for Tyla
Tyla

I am not good at words

I search his pockets for a punchline

Hoping  I find an audience

waiting for a laugh

how he could love someone like me

I smell his collar

hoping I smell some other girls perfume

so I can finally come to the terms

yes aha he is cheating

so it can comfort my insecurity that I am never enough

I look for the price tag attached to my body

hoping to find the wage

in which he took me home

I start Agruements

with him

convince him I am the monster they warned him about

I search under the bed

looking for a motive

for why he would want to lay next to me

I go Deaf when he says I love you

waiting to see the hate in his eyes

but all I find is confusion

i look over his shoulder

waiting For the blindside

i don’t let myself fall in love no more

i love like a crime scene

I am use to finding my heart

in a murder scene

I look at your hands

hoping to find my blood caked in your fingernails

but I will tell you

My meanness is to help with your anger

When the moments become to difficult to deal with my absence

My laughter is the heartbeat I stored in your chest

My smile is a practiced art I have sculpted upon a canvas

My frown is a thunderstorm , that rains upon you when the smiling becomes to hard  

you see

Razors became food

You can sever the lining of your stomach

And empty yourself

Cause after all

Your body is a crater

You can eat yourself

To a disorder

But vomit your way to Perfection

You could flirt

With a scale

And catch all the numbers

And steal won’t feel confident

i look for the tape measure you hold around my waist

checking to measure the time you have left until you leave

I stand by the edge of driveway

waiting for the Eviction notice

i pack my bags early

I tuck my sercets away

I sleep in a coffin

I don’t let myself feel alive

I get use to feeling like death

cause I know I die twice if you left

I take my backbone out when I sleep

I am sensitive baby

I makeup My face

so you won’t get to close

and see my broken

I search the soles of his shoes

hoping to find superglue

maybe that is why he stayed put

I sometimes wonder if I remind him of a basketball basket

like how you shoot and hit the back board

and shout rebound

do you like to hit it IN the back

so you dont  have to see my face and remid you its not her ?

i search his inbox

For answers I find no motive

I search my Thighs

Looking for no gap

he has gone missing inbetween me

pulling out the univesrse of me

i flow out like a Milky Way of stars

i use to wonder if it was the way my black blends in between the dark lit room

as if he was scared

of the way a raven crows in the daylight

I use to wonder if my hair

untamed and free curls

Would turn him away

from running his hands through

my tumbleweed of a crown

I stopped searching in his pockets

for why a black woman

can not be desired

as if eve offspring

Didnt come from the land of milk and honey

  If you could only open eyes dear then would stop searching  ?

Let him love you .....

*this piece is a year old I deleted it its a repost