Forgotten

I am a soul
In a temporary body
Living on borrowed time
Living on a nickel and a dime
Striving, struggling, and earning
The cycle goes around and around
My life is something to remember
Or maybe it’ll just sink into oblivion
Generations after, will they remember my name?
Or will I be just another entity,
Tucked and pushed away into someone’s distant memory?

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Aside

I Am Free

I am nothing but a soul trying to find peace
I have been beaten down to no return.
My mind is fragile, my confidence scarred
Think positive, but all I produce is negative
I feel as if I wander looking for something
Something that I cannot find
I search I search I search
I crawl, I walk, I run
Happiness, I guess that’s what I’m searching for
Or maybe it’s peace,
Hope, Or love
Love for myself once again
Love for me and my being.
I am locked. Trapped like an animal.
I try to claw my way out
But instead I end up being buried alive
I am suffocating.
It is debilitating, crushing.
Why oh why did this happen to me?
I suppose it was just a twist of fate.
If only I could see a little light
And breathe a little bit of fresh air
Maybe then this feeling will wash away
And I can finally say

I am free.

Daddy

hey daddy. It’s me, olivia. You know, your youngest daughter. Do you remember?

I can tell it takes you a minute to recognize me. Well, I go to MC now. I’m a junior and an english literature major. Do you remember when I told you that?

I’ve missed you so much, daddy. I hope that you have missed me, too. The smallest things make me think of you and our memories. Oh please daddy say you remember.

you’ve changed. You’re a different person now. You still have the same gentle soul, but now you possess a broken mind. What happened, daddy?

Do you remember yourself before we were told you have early on set dementia? Do you remember when you taught me how to ride a bike? Do you remember when you helped me with my science projects? Do you remember my high school gradation? Daddy, please remember.

It breaks my heart to see you live like this. In a constant state of inner turmoil and confusion.

But daddy sometimes you show flickers of who you used to be. Sometimes you are who you were.. But only for a few seconds. I wish that those times would last forever. Daddy, I know you’re still here. Are the memories tucked away somewhere?

You speak and try to make conversation. Your words are jumbled and you now have a stutter. Sometimes I wish that I could just grab you and shake you so you would be back to normal!

Daddy! Daddy! Why did this have to happen to you?

Some days feel so hard daddy. Some days it feels like I just can’t do it anymore. Can you hear me daddy? Will you remember what I’m saying?

Please, if you don’t remember anything else, just remember that I love you.

And I know you love me to

19

19.

Stuck between being a woman and being a child. She can’t help but live the fast life.

Dress to impress. Short shorts short skirts short shirts. Make sure you put your confidence on today.

Slather your red lipstick on, put on your glass facade. Your face is never complete without a smile; even if it’s fake. Never let the tears that stream down your beautiful face show.

Fake it till you make it. Fake it till you make it. Fake it till you make it.

Late nights are the regular. Doing God knows what.

“Take a hit of the blunt. Take a drink of the booze. ”

the fast life is all she knows.

But when does she realize it all comes to a screeching halt? When is the game over? When does the facade crumble?

Until then she keeps living her life, at the tender age of 19.

But she keeps getting caught between being a woman

and a child

 

Girl with an afro

I’m just another girl with an afro.

“Why don’t you comb it?” “Why did you decide to cut all of that long, pretty, straight hair off?” “Why would you want to look like that?”

Who would’ve thought there’d be so much criticism for wearing my hair the way it comes out of my head? I celebrate my hair and all of its kinks and coils. Why would I want to hide it? But, I’m just another girl with an afro.

I celebrate my hair, why can’t you? The snarky comments and the negativity are not needed. Your dirty looks and crassness are not warranted. I wish your opinion of my hair was asked for. Perhaps then your opinion would be valued.

But, I am just another girl with an afro.

 

City Feels

The red lipstick I wear stuns

As I sashay and strut down the city

The heads and the faces of the people turn

But I have no care

My mind only focuses on the present

And never the past

My body sways with the wind

As the cold bites my face

The city lights are like a carnival

Around me

They highlight my features

They create beautiful shadows

The people and their energy electrify me

I feel liberated; unchained

My being is left to roam this earth

My soul is left to frolic

My eyes bounce from place to place

And person to person

My senses are going through overload

But I have no complaints

The city captures me

The walk and the talk

The music and the art

The realities and the illusions

The fantasies and the tales

Are all here

But eventually

I fall back into my reality

I realize again

I am just another person in this great

Sea of people

I am just another spirit wandering these streets

Ashes

The ashes are still fresh. There’s a cigarette that’s barely lit, smoke gracefully flowing through the air. My heart tells me you stayed. But, my mind knows better. I roll over, and all I see is your indent. The place where your body once was.

You left not too long ago.

I can’t help ┬ábut clutch your pillow, the smell of you is still there. It’s intoxicating, it’s nauseating. The sheets are a tangled mess among me, and so are my emotions. You have me and my body wrapped around your finger. You have a piece of my heart. You have left an imprint on my soul. My mind wanders back to last night as the warm tears stream down my eyes.

The way your fingers glided across me felt like electricity. The glisten in your eyes gave me a high. The way you spoke to me made my skin shiver. You have me mesmorized. You have my every move calculated.

The morning after leaves me bitter. That joyous ecstasy is gone. The high is no more. The crash is unbearable. The hurt has rattled me to my bones. Every being of me is in unbearable pain.

I stumble to the bathroom, utterly terrified to look at my reflection. The harsh, artificial light paints a horrible picture all over my face. I am disgusted with myself. How could I let you do this to me again? How could I believe all of those hollow words all over? The girl looking back at me is disappointed. I repeatedly get my heart ripped out by you like clockwork. It’s a never ending cycle of joy and pain. I love you, I do. But I also despise you.

I try to get myself together for the day ahead of me. I clean up the running, black mascara. My cheeks are puffy, and red from the leftover blush. My lipstick is long gone. I fix my matted afro just as the phone rings.

It’s you again.

Asking if I want a repeat of last night. You say you enjoyed yourself. The words that come out of your mouth sound like a beautiful poem. They are a melody. They ring throughout my ear and bounce around in my mind. An excitement comes over me. My mind tells me no, but I hear myself say yes.

I know I will regret this. It’ll be another morning of tears, anger, and regret.

But, there’s something in me that can’t stop making a deal with the devil.

Conversations with Myself

“What do you love about me?”

“Oh gosh. Why do you ask me questions like this? I hate them.”

“Please, just answer the question. I just want to know. You can actually answer it, right? Or, do you actually have to dig deep for an answer? I didn’t think the question was hard.”

“Well, I find that the answer to your question changes. It may change hourly, daily, weekly, whatever. Some days the things that I love about you are your downfall. Sometimes the things that I love about you today are the things that I hate the next day. It’s complicated. Before, I used to crave and wish that you were someone else. I didn’t love you, and I rarely liked you. Your seemingly permanent insecurity was disgusting. It was something that I hated. There were always endless excuses on why you couldn’t and wouldn’t do something. They were hollow and baseless. Your thoughts were something that was vile. They poisoned you… I often wondered why you would do this to me…..”

“Are you just going to spew hateful things? The question I asked you was not relevant to your answer. Why must you always bring up those days. They are gone and they are buried. Tell me. What do you love about me? When you see me what emotions flicker and flutter across your mind and being? What thoughts consume you when you see me? What are the words you wish to tell me? Are my thoughts and actions still baseless and hollow? Or have they gotten some substance now? Surely there must be something within me that you love. Or do you just loathe every inch of me?”

“You’re never satisfied with the answer. Of course there are things that I love about you. I dare not hate every inch of your being. Do you feel as if I do? There are things that I love about you. In truth, there are many things. Well I’ll start off like this. I don’t want to randomly list things off that I love. You are not a bag of groceries that I must check off. There’s a certain type of comfort that I feel in you. Your being is simply intoxicating. Why? Ask yourself why isn’t it. The way your eyes glisten and gleam is lovely. You are learning to find a beauty in life now. I would say that is what I love the most. No, you are not perfect, and I will not tell you that. I have no urge to tell you that. However-

“Please stop. Your answer is vague. It seems generic, almost rehearsed. What is the honest truth? What is the honest answer? Maybe there’s more digging that needs to be done. Why am I even asking this question. What do you love about me… What a ridiculous question. I see the answer everyday. I answer my own question everyday… Nevermind. I wish to know no more. “