Tag Archives: Literature

#93: A Game of Charades

I could hear him crying in the bathroom,

It was the third time this week,

And as much as he tried to lie,

He was just as broken as the rest of us,

 

He was the master of charades,

Every smile he ever wore was a front,

A constant effort to be strong,

To have it all together,

 

He stifled his cries,

But I could feel the vibrating pulses of a broken soul,

The door opened,

And I saw his silhouette,

 

Against the back drop of the bathroom light,

I saw him smile again,

It didn’t take him to long,

To return to his game of charades

 

© Aisha-Nicole 2016

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#92: It’s True

It’s true,

Sometimes I write about you,

Like therapy to an addict,

I’m trying to rid myself of you,

Yeah, it’s true

Sometimes I wish I had never met you,

But with every word and every line,

I will no longer be affected you.

 

© Aisha-Nicole 2016

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#76: Do it

It’s not the amount of times you say it,

It matters,

Only when you do it

©Aisha-Nicole 2014

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#75: Dreaming Out Loud

Today marks the day I will forever refer to as D-Day. As in, the day I finally let Destiny hold my hand.

I got laid off this afternoon, and as if it were a movie scene, it was raining and I was left to gather my belongings. No hard feelings though. I wasn’t the only individual let go and it was due to circumstances beyond anyone’s control.

I shed a tear, I will not lie. Then I prayed, knelt down and thanked God for his goodness to me. This reaction completely shocked me, and had I been laid of months ago, I would have been a complete wreck.

Not today.

Today I will be thankful for the experience I gained and the friendships I made. Most of all, I will be thankful because you can never realize your destiny if you’re to comfortable with where you are.

With peace and great confidence I have to look myself in the mirror and say what I’ve been afraid to say all along.

I want to write for a living.

I want people to read my poetry and be moved and have an impact on people’s lives.

Somewhere between adolescence and adulthood, following your dream becomes frowned upon and left for those to stupid or to naive to consider the consequences. I want to know when it became stupid to dream out loud.

My birthday is next week, and I’m going to give myself the best gift of all. I’m going to let myself be me. With no hesitation, no explanation and no fear.

I have my whole life ahead of me and life is too short to live as someone else.

So three cheers to me following my dream. Someday, this post will be the introduction to a moving speech, and an award winning book. Why? because tonight I am dreaming out loud.

Aisha Nicole

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#74: And So the Story Goes

It was the way he said it,

 

Leaning in close,

I caught the faint smell of bourbon,

 

Delicately playing with the folds of my skirt,

My eyes surveyed every crevice, and every fine line from aging,

 

He was a master at games,

Growing cold,

Leaving me wandering,

Begging for more,

 

His lips teased me

And then he kissed me

 

Made me forget,

 

Made me long to be his

And only his alone,

But that was a long time ago

I was naïve and he was a master at his craft,

And so the story goes.

 

©Aisha-Nicole 2014

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#73: This Side of Me

 

 

The reality is I’m still scared,

Afraid to exhale

I’ve been fighting with years of baggage,

And I would claim it,

But that would mean owning up to past mistakes,

Lost causes,

And occasional outbreaks of low self-esteem,

I’m telling you this as you sleep,

But I want to look you in the eye,

And let you see the un-manicured side of me,

But it’s too late,

I’ve been wearing this mask for too long,

And I’m afraid it’s become a part of me.

© Aisha-Nicole 2014

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#72: Inhale

I tasted your past,

Loved it for what it had made you,

I inhaled your dreams,

Intertwined them with mine,

I let you in,

And I thought you had done the same,

But sometimes,

Secrets lie in between warm sheets.

© Aisha-Nicole 2014

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#71: | One | Last Petal

she believed, 

and kept her promise,

she meant it when she said, 

till death do us part,

and even in the last hour,

as death waltzed in,

she stood firm, 

cradled his hand,

and remembered,

their first kiss,

the disaster on 4th street,

and most importantly,

the moment he asked her to be his,

yes, she believed

and when the last petal faded,

her heart remained his. 

© Aisha-Nicole 2014

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The more I long for you,

The more you steer away,

Baby, I’ll never understand

These games you play.

Aisha- Nicole 2014

#71: Childish Games

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#70: Breaking the News

 

Your heart is no longer mine,

And at some point tonight,

My mind will have to let my heart know

© Aisha-Nicole 2014

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