Rolling Tides

Last night I attended a underground session of vocalist, poets, and revolutionaries in a closed office in downtown Atlanta. There I felt full, fed, loved… there I shed tears and had an ephiphany. Artist Shanice Green shared her version of Sitting On The Dock Of The Bay and it inspired a poem from me.

I imagined a love that would be natural and free Easy flowing and enduring Filled up and running over The type of love that rolls over in the morning and whispers sweet nothings as the golden shades of morning drift across the room I am no longer a young girl but I have remained a die-hard romantic and every day I died a hard death waiting for this love it seems will never come Yet I plant daises in parting footsteps attempting to heal scars and wounds that I refuse to grant permanent residence And when I’m alone I cry Attempting to love broken fixtures Discarded pieces of what used to be Yet they court such pretty words Bat such beautiful eyes I remain confused by the long talks of getting to know me simply to come up empty-handed I feel the love slowly drifting out of me Leaving skepticism, disappointment, and apologies But I was a romantic once The leave you sweet notes and love songs type I wrote poems and cooked dinner I listened to the things you could only think of wanting and turned it into reality I planned surprise trips, gave back rubs, ran bath water I washed backs when arms were too tired to reach Encouraged dreams Gave a loving and caring shoulder to lean on Wiped away the tears of women that came before me and loved you like it was needed I put time, thought, and effort into making you happy My love was healing, warming, touching My love was deep as the rivers and as wide as the sea It ran as high as the mountains and as bright as the sun Yet feeling the cold of the water traveling between my toes The chill in the air Sitting here Waiting Wishing I have learned that some women in life can not handle loving Too many scarlet letters heat pressed on cold hearts keloid into permanent breaks Searching for a love they will never allow themselves to have Drowning in self inflicted misery from lovers that have long passed them by Walking dead before they could die So unaware of the trail of hurt they string that they will f*** you blind, deaf, and dumb Attempting to love women like this is a mute point Incapable of understanding or appreciating a feeling that doesn’t rip them from the insides, no Vaseline Love should be easy But like busting nuts, they make it hard And I have swallowed deeper reasoning Cheek and jaw, dribbled out easier solutions Solving them is infinite impossible to the negative 23 power I have learned that there are some women that even Solomon couldn’t court Those easy to bed They’d rather allow you between their legs Jezebel make believe feelings into their walls because that is what they consider love That is all they know how to feel Prostitutes trading sex for feelings I am sick of heartless whores Discarded concubines No one wives Who chooses to wed that which has bed the entire village The whole lot is ruined by their own doing One mans trash is not always another treasure because fools’ gold does exist What is left to have when the pickings are so slim What is left to want I have decided it is better to allow the tide to simply roll on by

#Poetry #Atlanta #shanicegreen #OnlineWriting #NykieriaChaney #livemusic #sittingonthedockofthebay #Romance #Vaseline #Shanice #Solomon #Arts #Relationships

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