Under the Cover of Love

You don’t see my agony.

I try and hide it away.

But, what I really need are

hands on my body.

They say don’t feel sorry for yourself.

Well, that does not put the pain away on a shelf.

It keeps coming and coming and I can’t get away

to make it stay, gone.

When I am home alone,

no one here to wipe my tears

and every joint in my body

feels like it has reached its breaking.

What point is it to keep the tears inside?

Although, I want to hide

away in darkness so no one will see

the side effects this shit has on me:

grouchy, mouthy, tired and lacking luster.

My lusciousness stolen by fibromyalgia.

I know pain, and pain knows me well.

I am tying not to make my life a living hell

by complaining and begging for help.

But dam it; I need somebody to put their hands on me

I am not one that can live without the touch of a lover.

Under the cover of my lovers’ touch my pain can’t harm me.

It now becomes sweet relief, just a kiss away.

After our energy exchange, all pain has faded.

I know it is chemistry

but I still want that hold

that touches and rubs under my clothes.

Crying releases endorphins

but they say don’t be a cry baby.

Don’t co-host a party with pity.

Shit the partied already started

without my permission.

I tell you I am on a mission

to find that lover that won’t get tired

of putting her hands on me.

I try to be strong and smile with grace,

telling everybody I am okay,

but as soon as their gone

tears replace smiles,

fears invade joy,

sorrow,

pity,

come rushing through the door

looking for more of my goodness to squander.

It might make me wallow.

It might make me sigh.

It might make me wish I could die.

But, after tears something magical happens.

I feel like maybe, I can beat this,

and whether I have a lover or not

this is still my lot.

I chose to cry about it and move myself out of the way,

because I know it will pass and I will remember these days.

I will tell about them to my lover.

She will hug me under the cover of love.

Ugh I wish she would hurry up

by mozayik “the souls’ poet”

4.25.12

Abandonment

I had a demon riding my back and its name is abandonment.

It has tried to stop every accomplishment,

but what it didn’t realize was, this journey

I am on is divine.

All of this time.

All of the trials

are what make me.

I looked it in the eyes and saw just what the test meant.

I am never alone.

I always have at my disposal

the energy needed to overcome.

All the stepping stones thrown across my path

are crushed with optimism,

and used to create a mozayik poem

 

by mozayik “the souls’ poet”

4.15.12