He came to me...
as beautiful as poetry,
encouraging me to no longer look at love as a disease,
something I casually caught
through flirtatious smiles and phone numbers swapted.
He spoke intimacy...
Uh, I don't thing you all understand me...
He spoke, in-to-me-see
casue no other man before was as patient as He
waking the sleeping beauty hidden within me
through the soft kisses of His poetry.
Poetically He challenged me
forced me to convers with she,
the one I buired so deeply even my thoughts weren't able to reach she
to keep her company.
So she found solice,
wonderin in the darkness.
Deprived on contact she became content
over time forgetting what love ment.
But then you approached she
when you approached me
the mere attention setting her free
then you reintroduced,
me to she.
Taking our hands
we felt like the children entering the promised-land
He became her promised man
her destiny,
the one with whom she'd spend her eternity.
I mean come on,
who else could He be.
Cause He was the one able to reach she
all the others were too blind to see.
But then she became blind,
discovered a trick being played on she.
He had sniffed out her pain
like a hungry wolf stalking his prey,
He manipluated she
when He spoke poetically.
A crafter of words
He'd spoke things she'd never heard.
Capturing her smile in every simile
every onomatopoeia
tickled she,
in the lines He spoke her name became iambic pantameter,
even His alliterations didn't bother her.
But what did was that He too on the occupation of a liar,
while tossing out soul erecting line trying to but her...
attention,
and don't let me fail to mention
He than began to share her poetry
and she found that she had company,
over hearing them reciting the words of what He said their future would be all the while thinking the copyright belonged to she.
Needless to say, anger came into play
taunting her to stray away of the new her she was introduced to yesterday
It then became a battle,
me fighting against her, her fighting against she
who will be the victor...
right now its hard to see.
For they all wared until they had nothing left
each having to prove with the reguard to nothingness
all battling to the brink of death
all inches away from death's rest.
As the smoke clears
the dust begins to settle,
there begins a slight rumble amongst the rubble
emerging slowly as the echoing ticks of the second hand
revealing one's identity...
was it her
was it she...
no, the clearing remnants of this battle unveil me.
The one who's become so familiar, you see
so familiar of this dance between she and me.
She, holding out for her fairytale happy ending.
Me, one more so called relationship leaving my heart in need of mending.
She, still trying to convince me of a happily everafter.
Me, growing tired of this tale, ready to close the book
in the middle of this chapter.
So we place the book back on its shelf
she now disappointed in me,
me now discouraged in self.
Feeling defeated
and too afraid to ask for help...
we depart while leaving a part of
ourselves.






"Who taught us to ask for that which makes us weep? - Alice Walker

the story had me in the grip. the flow well a few misspellings but don't trip this was captivating nevertheless and i enjoyed reading it. something the way life is sometimes the very thing that free's us help us loves us cures us can be the death of us . well unless we learn to Let GO...freely

"keep pennin till the earth birth's your rightful seed then nurture it wit more ink..."
ASIEM
"Kuun fiyah Kuun" Quran
(Be and it is)
" A writer takes his pen to write the words again that all in love is fair" Stevie Wonder




www.myspace.com/asiem61

i thank you. my 'b' on the misspelling ;)


"Who taught us to ask for that which makes us weep?" - Alice Walker