508: The Writer’s Curve

This was written on May 6, 2024. The perfect music to go along with this poem would be Alstad, Yana Chekina- The Seagull

It was the absence of love in the first place.

A lie that you told me there was no race.

No race for your heart.

No race for your soul.

Walking around lost.

Nobody that I deemed my whole.

All I wanted was a family to fall in love with.

A place for me to call home.

I give win to the abstract.

A lean to the depth.

And so under that bush across from Upstate Farms,

On the ground May 2023 I wept.

I wept for being lonely & pregnant.

With a man who didn’t want me.

I wept for being broken.

By those who didn’t call me.

Didn’t call me love.

Didn’t call me peace.

Didn’t call me angel face.

Feeling like I was beneath.

I couldn’t find my footing.

So I lost my ground.

And I sat there waiting for so long.

A love never found.

I laid on the ground.

Wishing I had someone to call.

Wishing there was a love.

For in which I would fall.

Desperate for deliverance.

For someone to answer at all.

So I gave up to the wind.

This was my doing.

My head against the wall.

Fate wins.